Connecting the Broken Glass

A traumatic experience from when I was young, brought to life by me~now 21 year's old.

Staring at the faded blue-green wallpaper peeling from the walls, I tried to play with them, to laugh with them... and keep my mind of my surroundings.

I was observant for such an innocent little girl. I've realized how strong of a memory I have, as of late.

 

I could smell thick cigarette smoke, alcohol, and the rot of oppression.  I could see purple on their bodies, I noticed because they matched the color of my little dress. I picked it out special because my Mom had just made it for me, and I wanted to look like a princess. I was afraid to take my shoes off because of the broken bottles laying around on the carpet. I could feel tension in the air from surrounding the grown up woman.

 

We played on a mattress with holes in it, driving toy cars into the holes to hide from monsters.

"Do you believe in monsters?" He asked staring me directly in the eyes. I nervously avoided eye contact and played with the design at the bottom of my dress.

 

Suddenly everything became loud, dark, and blurry as we heard screams outside of the bedroom.

The woman was thrown to the floor, smashed in the head with a whiskey bottle. The front door was open and a man standing with no shirt on, full of dirt, long greasy hair...in a mullet cut stared me down as if I was a demon.

They hid in the corner shivering but I was too afraid to move. The woman yelled his name, told him to calm down, told him to relax, that everything was fine. He turned and looked at her slowly, throwing a chair over her.

 

He grabbed my arm, I could smell the ripe sweat dripping down his body. He pushed me aside ripping my white tights under my dress on a shard of glass on the floor where I landed. Grabbing them throwing them and locking them in the small bathroom he grabs the tall woman by her arm. He kisses her and brings her to the bedroom.

 

She sits me on the mattress, staring at me. He is standing in the corner with an incandescent repulsive glow around him. Everything was blurry. The poster on the wall was half-coming down...I couldn't see the picture on it. I wanted to know what was on it.

 

I stared at the shattered glass on the floor, trying to match up every piece in my mind, blocking out the feeling of her hand running up my thigh, blocking out his image in the corner with his hand down his pants, and a knife in the other hand. I woke up on the mattress, bugs were crawling in an ashtray where my little purple hair clip laying near.

 

I heard them playing in the other room, I walked to their quiet laughter and they looked at me silently...handing me a toy car. I sat the toy down on the blanket on the floor, staring at them silently. They looked at me with piercing eyes, "So, do you believe in monsters?"

 

I laid my head down, and an hour later I woke up staring out the car window smelling the perfume of my true safe haven, and seeing the smile of my real life super hero...I began staring at the forget me not fields...

 

And I never looked back.

I never tried to connect the blurred images, or the reflections I saw in the broken pieces.

And now...It is suddenly as clear as glass.

Author's Note

ignore grammer, thank you for reading <3

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

Oh dear Nellie, how horrific. I do hope you are talking to someone to help you through this memory and to help you resolve the memories. The worst thing about this kind of experience is it can leave echoes in our mind that play havoc with our now and our future. The writing was very compelling. From a technical standpoint and because there are holes in your memory, I would suggest you make it a poem. But that is really beside the point. From a personal standpoint, you are very brave and however they may have made you feel, you are beautiful and loved.

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

Impressive narration! I like this a lot, Nellie. Though, I must say that it was a very traumatic experience. It's a good thing you were okay writing about it. Every time I write my own traumatic past, I can't seem to finish it. I was crying halfway. This piece shows a courage of a woman who has overcome her monsters. Keep writing! :)

[Misery]

I am very sorry for your trauma, Nellie Johnson. It is difficult for innocence to survive for long in a world bursting at its seams with cruelty and deprivation. Thank you for bravely sharing your story.

[Nellie Johnson]

Thank you, Misery. :) You're very welcome. I am happy that I have become an open book, sharing my stories could help others potentially overcome their own traumas.