Her afterlife.

I remember. Not distinctly, but like the stroke of summer's breeze on your cheeks. I remember the giggles, the sass, Jake and our tree house, our love for forts, his love for strawberries, and our legs intertwined as we slept in our Ben ten themed rooms, I remember the blonde of his hair, and his perfect smile that mirrors mine.

I remember Faye. I remember her so much it hurts. I remember the hours we would spend together and I remember our cries, cries that began immediately we were separated. I remember our friendship, it's purity, I remember it evolving, I remember our phases. I remember her catchphrases, and I remember the look on her face as they dragged me away.

I remember my Papi and my Mama. I remember the loves of my life. I remember the care, their love, the shouts and praises. I remember their scents, peculiar to just them. Their warmth and the peace that filled me when I crawled into their arms.

I remember Scary Sarah. I remember my childlike dislike of my older sister, but I also remember the taste of the milk jug that she got me every time she went on a date with Dave.

I remember Dave, but not really. I remember his scent and the huge crush I had just for him.

I remember that day. I remember it like it happened years ago and I remember it like it happened just yesterday. It's almost like a war the memories fight, to stay prominent or fade away with time.

I remember the car ride to the mall. I remember playing with Faye. I remember Jake's sleeping face, oblivious to the marker mustache on his angelic face. I remember his drool. I remember the car, packed to its fullest capacity, the scent of the bodies mixing to create harmony.

I remember that day, all the mundane events that led up to that evening.

I remember the familiar food from Cherries. I don't recall the taste, but I remember the feeling. I remember the movements of my bowels. It was different. It felt like I had something bad. My 12 year old bowels could not handle it. I needed the toilet.

Faye had to follow me, It was protocol. Time and again, I wish she had not. I wish she had not been invited to the dinner. I wish she had not witnessed what happened, but it happened.

It's funny that I do not remember. I do not remember how it was. I can't give you a vivid picture of how that life altering event occurred. I do not remember their faces, or their scents, but one thing I remember is their touch.

The feel of their hands on my frail body and the feelings of fear that came with it, icy cold fear.

I remember the force with which they grabbed me.

I remember her scream. It was the scream of a young child struck with fear. I remember now, almost like an out of body experience, my friend, my brave little fighter. I remember her screaming some more, not screaming, shouting.

She was a fucking gee. I remember her telling them to leave me alone. I can see it now, her lunge, dragging wildly at anything she could, any body part of my assailants that she could. "Leave Mia alone," she cries over and over again.

Mia. It was strange to hear her call me Mia, obviously not at the time, but now that I think about it. I was her Mini; I was everybody's Mini.

I remember her falling. I remember the thud as she was flung with force and impatience, just like a fly being swatted. I remember the car, and I remember her picking herself up, running back, and calling for help as we drove away.

I remember crying, screaming, and questioning. It went on for a few short minutes before I felt the stab of the needle and the thump in my chest as my heart slowed down. I remember sitting in fear as my heart tried to end itself before I fell unconscious.

I remember the days, weeks, and months after that: the tears, the pain, the hope, the hunger, and more tears. The slaps, the splitting headaches that felt like my skull was going to crack open at any moment, the tears, the hunger, and then her.

I remember Anna. I remember the love I felt for Anna. Anna was my saving grace. Anna became my everything; my mother, father, Faye, Jake, Sarah, I saw them all in Anna.

I remember the years we spent together. I remember the cocoon of love she wrapped me in, the oblivion to everything else happening.

Every single birthday spent with Anna, the cakes with HBD my Mimi, on every single birthday. I was her Mimi.

I remember our cries, our laughs. I remember her limping to my bed on some nights, obviously in pain, but always with a smile on her face as I crawled into her arms, safe as I could be.

I remember that year, the year Anna lost her shine, the year I saw her smile and the emptiness in her eyes, and I remember that day, the day my world shattered.

I remember her face. I remember what seemed like a mere squabble until it wasn't. I remember her eyes. They were not empty, they were filled with rage, with adamance, the curve of her lips the definition of resolute. She looked like a distant memory, like my Faye.

I remember the care with which Anna dragged me, pulling me behind her, and I saw it, the look on his face, a slow descent from dry humor to rage.

I remember his movements and the gun. Time seemed to slow down as I reached forward to tell her, to let her know that he had a gun, a gun that was reaching out, its direction obvious.

I can't say I remember it happening. It seemed like time slowed down only to speed up at this moment.

I remember Anna as she was. I remember the sound like the creak of a rusty door but more guttural. I remember the look on her face, the look in her eyes, the shock, the resignation, the acceptance but never the pain.

I remember her last words to me. I remember trying to make it a reality.

"Mimi... you have to be strong. It's going to be..."

I remember my first time. I remember my pride being torn from me. I remember my fight. I was going to be strong just like Anna. I remember the beatings and the stitches. I remember the pain.

I remember my last time, so different from my first time, years apart. I don't remember how it felt, but that could be because it did not feel that way. It felt like what resignation should feel like.

I am so glad I remember it all, and I am so glad I will not remember this pain in the afterlife Anna always talked about, the pain this knife leaves behind.