Post by Ailera on Nov 6, 2014 16:44:05 GMT -5
Kirrily Mavis Blair
six -- thirteen
<rewind
I lifted my head out of the water, coughing and wheezing. Water fell like rain out of my nose, and every breath came heavy and choked off. My hair, always kept so neat, was soaked. As if to reflect on everything it hangs in front of my face like dead things. Any other time, I would have grabbed a towel and begun drying it immediately. Then I would brush it and pull it up, or braid it if I was in a hurry. It was something I did religiously. Stay neat, stay well kept, but not to overdo it. I don't stay neat to look pretty, I do it because it really does matter. It wasn't just my hair that was soaked, but when I brought my head up the water it fell onto my clothes. Onto the dark maroon shirt, turning little spots black. Black reflected me. For once, my appearance was reflecting on me. I wiped my face with my sleeve, taking only a few moments to collect myself, cough - breath - before I grabbed the towel. No, I couldn't do it today. I might never have the courage.
The water was disgusting and slimy. There, with my hands on the sides of the bucket, I knew inside I wouldn't be able to do it. I was nobody's favorite. No one looked at me and saw my accomplishments, only the things I had failed to do. Mother and father looked at me with disappointment for not doing what they wanted me to. Medicine called to me, I wanted to save lives, not take them. I made the decision to study from books, instead of with my father. They used to scare me, then I felt sorry for them. I could see what my parents were doing to my siblings, but I couldn't do anything to stop it. Instead I chose to divert my eyes and think of other things. I lost myself in knowledge. Because of that, I lost them. What family of murderers wants a doctor? Somewhere along the lines, I lost my train of thought. I inhaled. The water came rushing in like a fire, and my back snapped up.
I stared into the bucket thoughtfully. No, I definitely wasn't strong. I couldn't defend myself. Sometimes, I wished I hadn't distanced myself so far from my family. In many ways my siblings were better than me. Oh, how deeply I cared for them. I felt sorry for them, then I would feel jealous. No matter what they did, though, I always ended up caring how they faired. Without meaning to, I sought their approval. The things I did wouldn't impress my parents, but I always imagined they would, and it helped. How would I ever gain what I wanted, though? In most families, the youngest child received the most attention. The most care. Where was my cut of the generalization? There wasn't room in my family for a baby. I had to grow up, and I had to get away from their habits before I became someone I didn't want to become. Now, when it was too late, I wanted them back. I couldn't change my mind. I looked back at the bucket. I needed to do it before I thought my way out of it. I held my breath and plunged my head under the water.
The part that startled me most was getting away. How did my legs support me? When did I pull up my skirt? I didn't remember. I only remembered running away, getting away from the filthy black ground. I was hurting, and the pain was throbbing with my heartbeat. I didn't know how long I laid on the ground or how long my glassy blue eyes stared into the shadowed sky. Getting away was on my mind. A thousand thoughts played through my head. Weak resonated coldly, drilling itself into my head. Then failure. Then, like a scream amongst whispers, DIRTY.
All I did was go to the library. I left school and went straight to the library with intentions of getting a few books on anatomy. It was a tradition of mine to go every Friday, something I had done every Friday for three years without interruption. I didn't expect that when I stepped outside with the books in my bag, they would find themselves on the stairs. Later, the librarian would go outside and pick them up. She'd be confused for a while, but check them back in and return them to their shelves. Meanwhile, a smelly hand was over my face, dragging me further and further away. I wasn't the type to express her feelings, but I was terrified. And I let him know. I let him know until we were in the alley, and I let him know the entire time he took me for his. I only stopped when he was finished.
Stupid things always seemed to befall me. In my head, I prided myself on being mature and intelligent. I was going to be a great doctor someday, and I was going to save lives. I wasn't going to hide behind my profession as a way to do what I liked. Unlike my siblings I could delve into a topic. Let Zephyr be vicious, let Vyra be cunning. Let Pandora be perfect and let be the devil, but I was going to be the smart one even if it meant losing the attention of my parents. Soon, I would figure out how wrong I was. I was the dud - the failure. At school, I was awkward and I stuttered if someone asked me a question not to do with facts. Having friends, in my opinion, slowed down my ability to study, so I chose early on not to have them. Later, I would regret it. But it was too late. I left school that day with their mean names falling behind me, head down and bag hugged tightly against my chest. It was finally Friday, and I knew where to go.
I don't know why my dad decided I needed to see. Maybe he thought seeing would set me straight. I knew he was disappointed that I wasn't like my siblings, but I thought he had forgotten about me. Left me to go off on my own. How wrong could I have been? He knew me, and he didn't give a damn how strong willed I acted. Somehow he knew what I was like on the inside. He knew watching Zephyr kill would tear me in half. Not once was I asked to do anything but watch. They knew it would stay with me, and haunt me. It wasn't the first time. When I was very young I saw it often, my dad hoping to influence me when he saw I didn't have much interest. Most of those memories were blocked out, but I did remember two occasions. One when I was seven, one four years ago. But this one shook me. I went to bed with a thought in my head. One I hadn't had in months.
"No, I can't. I can't change, I'm sorry. I don't want to. You can't make me do anything. Stop, no. Don't make me go down there. I know what happens down there. You never let me down there. No, stop. Let me go. Let go. Ow! Don't hit me, please! No! Mom! Please don't. I don't need to see, you're wrong. You can't make me go down there. Ow, my knee! Stop, you're hurting me! Turn on the light. Than- ow no, ow! Ah! Stop, that really hurts. Put me down. Please. Please put me down. No, no, stop. Why is he here? Who is he? Dad, don't hurt him. Why is Zephyr here? Oh my god, no, dad, don't. Zephyr stop, you're hurting him. Zephyr you're going to kill him. No. No stop. Please stop. Just stop. Stop. Please..."
I came home from school after supper time, the easiest time to avoid running into family. I thought I was being discrete when I crept to my room, but just as I entered the hallway my father came towards me. I began to push myself against the wall to let him by, but instead of ignoring me he stopped and glared at me. He was muttering things under his breath that I couldn't quite catch. I felt my heart rate quicken, and then he had me by the hair. He began to mutter louder, telling me to act like a part of the family. His voice slowly rose, until he yelled across the living room at Zephyr to get downstairs. Downstairs, a place I was never allowed to go. A place I was scared of, the place which's door I couldn't even bare to look at. I began to cry when he opened it. And I said...
Afterwards, I sat in my room in silence. On my bed, I leaned my back against the wall and let my large blue eyes stare in the direction of the door. No one was coming, because it was over. I failed myself in what I was so sure I could do right. My right arm throbbed, remnants of the pain of the broken arm still resonating up and down. No painkillers for me, and I had run out of tears long ago. Looking back, I see that day as the day my imaginary world collapsed in on itself. Every now and then afterwards I would return to it, but at eleven years old I decided to let go of everything. It was for attention, the doctor said. Apparently, a roof wasn't high enough. Before today I was a hard studier, but after I would throw myself into books. My struggle to avoid the family business would be over - for the most part. Somehow my actions turned my parents away from me for good. The light flickered, and I left my room to go to the kitchen. Someone tell the doctor I'm not finished.
I wasn't good with pain, I still can't tolerate it. The doctor berated me for half an hour, and the woman that found me stood nearby the entire time clicking her tongue and shaking her head. I couldn't have felt more shame or embarrassment. What made me do it, they asked. I didn't answer questions. If I did, I might tell them something I didn't want them to know. Instead I kept quiet, and kept my gaze on the wall off to the side of the doctor. The woman took me home. She saw my mother first, and explained everything while I kept my head down. Every word sent a fresh coat of red over my face, and soon the woman was gone and I was alone with the mother that had nothing but disappointment for me, as far as I knew. She didn't yell at me, she sent me to my room.
"Go away," I cried, and rolled onto my back. My head was throbbing, and I couldn't move one of my arms. The woman ran to my side anyways and placed her hands on my shoulders. When she did so, I cried out again and kicked a leg up. She said something to me I can't remember, because I fainted. Every time I woke up I was in someone's arms, but the last time I did the woman was supporting me. She was crying, but my face was grey. Realization hit me too late to do anything, and I figured, going on for a little longer wouldn't hurt. I'd try again another time. For now, I had to convinced everyone I was still a book worm, still mature, still in control of myself. No one needed to know how out of control I really was, really still am.
I can't tell you how I did it, but I did, and now I'm here, wherever here is. When I was thirteen I wanted to get here, but I was scared of anyone finding me out and stopping me, so I regularly pretended I was still me, before things started going nuts in my brain. The public was well convinced I was a good student, maybe with a few social difficulties but promising as a doctor nonetheless. Teachers saw me as the mature one, the one they could look at and exchange a look with if the rest of the class was misbehaving. I adored those relationships. I really was clever, especially for a girl of just thirteen. My only downfall was my family, in my opinion. They drove me mad.
My family largely kept up the appearance of being doctors to mask their true goings-on, the killing of people my father deemed "guilty." At first, it appeared I would go down the same path as my siblings and be forced into doing the same. They learned quickly I had no interest, and would do everything in my power to stay away. For some reason they let me - maybe they'd had enough successes to give me leeway. Sure, I'd come around sometime or another, right? Wrong, and my disinterest made my father furious. No amount of blank faces or unattached stairs would push him away, though I succeeded in making my siblings think I was simple. When my dad was angry enough at me, I would turn around and walk away, imagining I was walking to fairytale land. When I turned ten, he said enough, but never followed through. Instead, I found him giving up. I would turn corners to see him telling my mother what a disappointment I was, how much weaker I was than my siblings. My repeated successes at school and the adoration of my teachers never made their way into the conversation - I was a simpleton in his eyes.
The first time I tried to get here I was eleven years old. I'd tried to stay the intelligent, independent little girl I thought I was, but in my head I was convinced I was a dud. I'd heard too much. After I jumped off the roof, I no longer heard my father call me anything. When I tried again the same day in the kitchen, he wouldn't even say my name. I tried to tell him I'd try to be the daughter he wanted me to be. I offered and begged him, but it only lasted a month before I realized what I was doing. I stopped, and tried once more when I was twelve to make it to this place. Why I wanted to get here so bad is beyond me. How old am I now? Oh I don't know, we'll just wait and see.
