I walk through the rain
I walk the same route every day.
I come into contact with you always
And only today did I notice you properly.
I see you in the rain spattered window
At night, I see you.
But, I do not want you to see me
When I think our eyes will meet I hide.
But tonight, just now
Our eyes did meet.
And, for a second
I saw anger and fear in your eyes.
The lights went out and I hid in the shelter of the darkness
But that did not stop you.
I heard the cock back of the gun
You have with you always.
You come through the door
You turn the safety off.
Your identity forever protected,
You pull the trigger...
This blog is a collection of creative writing I have written. Contact me on: myjourney@live.co.uk. Follow me on Twitter: KarevJSparks - Follow me on Instagram: KarevSparks. WARNING: May contain explicit content, language and themes.
Thursday 26 August 2010
Falling Apart
The smile quickly turns to tears
Her porcelain face cracks to pieces,
Salty tears run down the lines of her cheeks,
She can not open her mouth to speak.
Up above, sunshine turns overcast,
She knows her little act just will not last,
Everyone can see her every flaw,
It’s the red trails you just can not ignore.
The minutes drift away,
Stop pretending everything’s okay
I’ll look to tomorrow and start
As she started, falling apart
Falling through shadows, an image so surreal
Hits my eyes so hard, it’s overkill,
You build me up but just to watch me break,
I know what I should do but I just can’t walk away…
Her porcelain face cracks to pieces,
Salty tears run down the lines of her cheeks,
She can not open her mouth to speak.
Up above, sunshine turns overcast,
She knows her little act just will not last,
Everyone can see her every flaw,
It’s the red trails you just can not ignore.
The minutes drift away,
Stop pretending everything’s okay
I’ll look to tomorrow and start
As she started, falling apart
Falling through shadows, an image so surreal
Hits my eyes so hard, it’s overkill,
You build me up but just to watch me break,
I know what I should do but I just can’t walk away…
A Deadly Lifestyle
Nakano takes to tarmac as the homeless take to doorways
Flying through the air, like a ragdoll, caused by
A slip of the clutch/ A grab of the brake
A slip of the slicks/ A grab for safety
The catalyst stops/ The Fireblade keeps going
He hits the floor/ Lucky he had his Arai on.
Flying through the air, like a ragdoll, caused by
A slip of the clutch/ A grab of the brake
A slip of the slicks/ A grab for safety
The catalyst stops/ The Fireblade keeps going
He hits the floor/ Lucky he had his Arai on.
In Memoriam (Geeta Aulakh)
Butchered for falling out of love.
Where is the honour in that?
Killed for wanting to be free.
Where is the honour in that?
Why is there punishment for this in life?
It’s getting out of hand.
Why should we live in fear?
It’s spiralling out of control.
Something needs to be done so women can feel safe.
Have you ever heard of a man killed in an honour crime?
None of this has to happen.
What is being done to protect women?
Women being circumcised without consent
Don’t they want their wife to achieve orgasm?
Obviously not,
Or are they that insecure of their performance?
Why are we seen as inferior?
We are sick of being patronised.
What can we do to change this?
We are sick of being ridiculed.
*This poem is about an honour killing near my house in Greenford, West London on Monday November 16th 2009
Where is the honour in that?
Killed for wanting to be free.
Where is the honour in that?
Why is there punishment for this in life?
It’s getting out of hand.
Why should we live in fear?
It’s spiralling out of control.
Something needs to be done so women can feel safe.
Have you ever heard of a man killed in an honour crime?
None of this has to happen.
What is being done to protect women?
Women being circumcised without consent
Don’t they want their wife to achieve orgasm?
Obviously not,
Or are they that insecure of their performance?
Why are we seen as inferior?
We are sick of being patronised.
What can we do to change this?
We are sick of being ridiculed.
*This poem is about an honour killing near my house in Greenford, West London on Monday November 16th 2009
An Open Letter To Amanda Knox
Banged up, sent down
Smiles come from frowns.
Gone just 16 years
Thought you were clear
A crime meets punishment
Prison food for nourishment
Exercise one hour daily.
Stay safe, pay protection
Build up a connection
Safer to stay silent
That night turned violent
You and your boyfriend
You didn’t show mercy
Now neither will I
You ignored my cries
You took my life
Justice will take yours
…
A killer without cause
Smiles come from frowns.
Gone just 16 years
Thought you were clear
A crime meets punishment
Prison food for nourishment
Exercise one hour daily.
Stay safe, pay protection
Build up a connection
Safer to stay silent
That night turned violent
You and your boyfriend
You didn’t show mercy
Now neither will I
You ignored my cries
You took my life
Justice will take yours
…
A killer without cause
Broken
I am broken, I can not feel
Right behind this steering wheel.
My mind is bleeding, thoughts of you
I don’t know what I am going to do.
A big part of me has been ripped away,
I will never recover, never again be “Okay”,
Every day I think of you as I grow to the end of adolescence
Here goes my morning dose of anti-depressants.
I think I’ll drive, into this wall
It’s made of brick, stands twelve feet tall,
I’m gonna die, you said to me
Tears fill my eyes, I can not see.
I went into your room that night
To make up from our only fight.
I saw the bed sheets, no longer white, but red, soaked
I tried to scream, but I only choked.
If you are dying, I am too,
Screw this shit we’ve been through,
This is the worst day I’ve ever had.
I can’t believe I’m losing you, Dad.
I wanted to tell you “I’m sorry”, but then
Your heartbeat stopped, at 3am.
I think, as I spot the clock on the shelf,
I could always overdose, or hang myself.
I look into the mirror
I see you looking back, your features have never been clearer
You are the other half of me,
My half of 46, now just 23.
I wish I could take back the things I said,
I wish I told you I love you, and I didn’t want you dead,
I found the box of undelivered letters under your bed
From my mistakes, my anger has fed.
It’s been five years since that night.
I’m still not winning the recovery fight
I long for the day, we meet again,
Knowing what I lost causes me pain.
I close your eyes for you, my dear.
Now you’re ridden of your fears,
And as I blow your face a kiss
I swallow a bullet; it’s come to this…
Right behind this steering wheel.
My mind is bleeding, thoughts of you
I don’t know what I am going to do.
A big part of me has been ripped away,
I will never recover, never again be “Okay”,
Every day I think of you as I grow to the end of adolescence
Here goes my morning dose of anti-depressants.
I think I’ll drive, into this wall
It’s made of brick, stands twelve feet tall,
I’m gonna die, you said to me
Tears fill my eyes, I can not see.
I went into your room that night
To make up from our only fight.
I saw the bed sheets, no longer white, but red, soaked
I tried to scream, but I only choked.
If you are dying, I am too,
Screw this shit we’ve been through,
This is the worst day I’ve ever had.
I can’t believe I’m losing you, Dad.
I wanted to tell you “I’m sorry”, but then
Your heartbeat stopped, at 3am.
I think, as I spot the clock on the shelf,
I could always overdose, or hang myself.
I look into the mirror
I see you looking back, your features have never been clearer
You are the other half of me,
My half of 46, now just 23.
I wish I could take back the things I said,
I wish I told you I love you, and I didn’t want you dead,
I found the box of undelivered letters under your bed
From my mistakes, my anger has fed.
It’s been five years since that night.
I’m still not winning the recovery fight
I long for the day, we meet again,
Knowing what I lost causes me pain.
I close your eyes for you, my dear.
Now you’re ridden of your fears,
And as I blow your face a kiss
I swallow a bullet; it’s come to this…
Sod’s Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
“THIS IS BLOODY RIDICULOUS! WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY GLASSES?”
I ranted, above the sound of Coronation Street.
“How am I supposed to know, George?” My wife, Anne, said glued, as usual, to the Television set.
I rolled my eyes and stomped my way into the kitchen. Maybe I left them in here when I was putting the shopping away. I began to look on the work-surfaces. My search quickly expanded to the cupboards, the larder, fridge, freezer and even inside the microwave. I sighed as I remained empty-handed.
I then remembered putting the bins out after a good hour nagging from the missus, so I took a torch and headed out into the front garden to inspect the contents of our bin bags. Whilst rustling through old newspapers and soiling my fingers with damp coffee grounds and moist potato peelings and the remains of last night’s dinner, my next-door neighbour came bustling out onto her porch sticking her beak in again.
“Who’s there?” she asked, in her usual shrill voice into the cold, misty night “I’m calling the P-”
“It’s just me, it’s George Parker” I assured her.
“Oh, well, what are you doing out here, in the dark, at this time of night?”
“I’ve lost my bloody glasses!” I said, still fumbling with the contents of the black bag.
“When was the last time you saw them?” she asked.
“Well, if I bloody knew that I wouldn’t still be looking for them would I?” I replied, rather rudely.
“Have you tried your car? You were working on it this afternoon in your garage. Quite loudly I might add” she said disapprovingly.
“I thought you might mention that” I said coyly, dropping the bag and wiping my hands on my handkerchief. “I’ll check now, thank you Mrs Pewterschmidt” I said, making my way over to the garage.
I flicked the light switch and waited, rather impatiently, for the knackered old light bulb to fire up. “I really need to change that infernal thing” I complained to myself. I gave up, and began to feel my way through the darkness to the far wall where the key hook is.
“Ouch!” I groaned as I stubbed my toe on the desk, the lights finally fired up just as I comforted my toes with my hands, hopping like a kangaroo on a pogo stick. “Sod’s fucking law” I said as I reached for the keys and deactivated the alarm.
I looked on the dashboard, the glove box, under the drivers’ seat, under the passenger seat, in the boot and even under the bonnet! No glasses. I sat in the drivers’ seat and gripped my hands on the steering wheel, clenched my teeth and shook the steering wheel as hard as I could.
My eyes fell onto my Parker Pen in the Cigarette Ashtray in front of the gear shifter and I remembered having my glasses on when writing my memoirs, in my study, before dinner. I got out of the car, set the alarms and put the keys back onto the key hook, then made my way to the study, optimistic that I would finally find my glasses.
I looked through my papers, which were strewn all over my desk, ripped the drawers from the desk, rifled through the filing cabinets and even went through my waste paper bin. No glasses.
“For fuck sake!” I screamed, collapsing into my leather chair behind my desk. I then heard my two children Ryan, 17 and Megan, 13, thundering down the stairs and into my study.
“What’s up Dad?” they said, in unison.
“I can’t find my fucking glasses!” I ranted.
They laughed.
I glared at them sure that my face was red as a chilli.
Megan came and sat on my knee, reached above my head and said, “They’re on your head, Dad!”
I ranted, above the sound of Coronation Street.
“How am I supposed to know, George?” My wife, Anne, said glued, as usual, to the Television set.
I rolled my eyes and stomped my way into the kitchen. Maybe I left them in here when I was putting the shopping away. I began to look on the work-surfaces. My search quickly expanded to the cupboards, the larder, fridge, freezer and even inside the microwave. I sighed as I remained empty-handed.
I then remembered putting the bins out after a good hour nagging from the missus, so I took a torch and headed out into the front garden to inspect the contents of our bin bags. Whilst rustling through old newspapers and soiling my fingers with damp coffee grounds and moist potato peelings and the remains of last night’s dinner, my next-door neighbour came bustling out onto her porch sticking her beak in again.
“Who’s there?” she asked, in her usual shrill voice into the cold, misty night “I’m calling the P-”
“It’s just me, it’s George Parker” I assured her.
“Oh, well, what are you doing out here, in the dark, at this time of night?”
“I’ve lost my bloody glasses!” I said, still fumbling with the contents of the black bag.
“When was the last time you saw them?” she asked.
“Well, if I bloody knew that I wouldn’t still be looking for them would I?” I replied, rather rudely.
“Have you tried your car? You were working on it this afternoon in your garage. Quite loudly I might add” she said disapprovingly.
“I thought you might mention that” I said coyly, dropping the bag and wiping my hands on my handkerchief. “I’ll check now, thank you Mrs Pewterschmidt” I said, making my way over to the garage.
I flicked the light switch and waited, rather impatiently, for the knackered old light bulb to fire up. “I really need to change that infernal thing” I complained to myself. I gave up, and began to feel my way through the darkness to the far wall where the key hook is.
“Ouch!” I groaned as I stubbed my toe on the desk, the lights finally fired up just as I comforted my toes with my hands, hopping like a kangaroo on a pogo stick. “Sod’s fucking law” I said as I reached for the keys and deactivated the alarm.
I looked on the dashboard, the glove box, under the drivers’ seat, under the passenger seat, in the boot and even under the bonnet! No glasses. I sat in the drivers’ seat and gripped my hands on the steering wheel, clenched my teeth and shook the steering wheel as hard as I could.
My eyes fell onto my Parker Pen in the Cigarette Ashtray in front of the gear shifter and I remembered having my glasses on when writing my memoirs, in my study, before dinner. I got out of the car, set the alarms and put the keys back onto the key hook, then made my way to the study, optimistic that I would finally find my glasses.
I looked through my papers, which were strewn all over my desk, ripped the drawers from the desk, rifled through the filing cabinets and even went through my waste paper bin. No glasses.
“For fuck sake!” I screamed, collapsing into my leather chair behind my desk. I then heard my two children Ryan, 17 and Megan, 13, thundering down the stairs and into my study.
“What’s up Dad?” they said, in unison.
“I can’t find my fucking glasses!” I ranted.
They laughed.
I glared at them sure that my face was red as a chilli.
Megan came and sat on my knee, reached above my head and said, “They’re on your head, Dad!”
The Morning After The Night Before
“Good morning” I said to Zoe, who was crouched over her cereal. I was ignored.
“Good morning” I said again, louder than before.
“Morning.” Zoe replied sharply.
“Oh…Kay” I muttered dismissively, I wondered what her problem was as I poured myself a glass of Orange juice and sat down, opposite Zoe, at the kitchen table.
“What were you playing at?” Zoe asked aggressively, still staring at her cereal which was slowly coagulating on the table.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I looked at her, confused by her question.
She glared at me, fury in her eyes. “You know very well what I mean, Nick. Last night. What were you playing at, dancing with that slut?” she demanded.
I thought for a second. “What girl? Oh what’s-her-name?” I said clicking my fingers. “Claire? She just started dancing with me; I have no idea who she was.”
“Then how do you know her name? And why didn’t you just walk away then?” Zoe retorted, giving me an icy look.
“She introduced herself to me while we were dancing, and we were in a nightclub, you’re supposed to dance at a nightclub. I wasn’t planning on paying £6 to get in and not have a good time, was I? What do you care who I dance with anyway? I didn’t know you were there, I thought you didn’t like Oceana? And in any case, you dumped me remember? I replied coyly, looking into her eyes searching for a reaction. I got it.
“That’s not the point Nick and you know it!” She shouted, throwing her cereal bowl at the wall. She had always been volatile, since I first met her last September.
“Well what is the fucking point Zoe? Because I’m obviously not getting it!” I shouted back, slamming my fist onto the table.
“Whatever Nick” Zoe resigned stormed out, slamming the door behind her with such force that the glasses in the cabinet shook.
“As soon as this semester ends I’m gonna find a new flat to live in because you’re driving me up the fucking wall!” I screamed, now seething in anger. I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Shit! I’m late for my fucking lecture. Great!” I grabbed my bag and ran out the door towards the bus stop muttering to myself “Never go out with your flat mates your own brother told you. Did I listen? Did I hell. Idiot!”
“Good morning” I said again, louder than before.
“Morning.” Zoe replied sharply.
“Oh…Kay” I muttered dismissively, I wondered what her problem was as I poured myself a glass of Orange juice and sat down, opposite Zoe, at the kitchen table.
“What were you playing at?” Zoe asked aggressively, still staring at her cereal which was slowly coagulating on the table.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I looked at her, confused by her question.
She glared at me, fury in her eyes. “You know very well what I mean, Nick. Last night. What were you playing at, dancing with that slut?” she demanded.
I thought for a second. “What girl? Oh what’s-her-name?” I said clicking my fingers. “Claire? She just started dancing with me; I have no idea who she was.”
“Then how do you know her name? And why didn’t you just walk away then?” Zoe retorted, giving me an icy look.
“She introduced herself to me while we were dancing, and we were in a nightclub, you’re supposed to dance at a nightclub. I wasn’t planning on paying £6 to get in and not have a good time, was I? What do you care who I dance with anyway? I didn’t know you were there, I thought you didn’t like Oceana? And in any case, you dumped me remember? I replied coyly, looking into her eyes searching for a reaction. I got it.
“That’s not the point Nick and you know it!” She shouted, throwing her cereal bowl at the wall. She had always been volatile, since I first met her last September.
“Well what is the fucking point Zoe? Because I’m obviously not getting it!” I shouted back, slamming my fist onto the table.
“Whatever Nick” Zoe resigned stormed out, slamming the door behind her with such force that the glasses in the cabinet shook.
“As soon as this semester ends I’m gonna find a new flat to live in because you’re driving me up the fucking wall!” I screamed, now seething in anger. I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Shit! I’m late for my fucking lecture. Great!” I grabbed my bag and ran out the door towards the bus stop muttering to myself “Never go out with your flat mates your own brother told you. Did I listen? Did I hell. Idiot!”
Sonnet II
I’ve decided to cheat on my husband to curb my needs
On the charge of gross adultery, guilty, I do plead
Pull me up into the dock; bring me in front of the judge
Sentence me for these heinous crimes against morality
I deserve to be punished for what I have done to him
I betrayed his love, his belief, his trust, and our marriage
But I just could not help myself I have been so lonely
I know that he will be devastated when he finds out
On the charge of gross adultery, guilty, I do plead
Pull me up into the dock; bring me in front of the judge
Sentence me for these heinous crimes against morality
I deserve to be punished for what I have done to him
I betrayed his love, his belief, his trust, and our marriage
But I just could not help myself I have been so lonely
I know that he will be devastated when he finds out
Sonnet I
Here in the dark I embrace my lover
‘til morning when I go to brush my teeth.
And after which I take a swig of Gin,
Then slide my body under the cover,
To intake the beautiful comforting heat
Let’s let the lovemaking begin
We’re interrupted by his kidney stones,
Weird pain felt in my head and chestal zones.
August,
When pollen gives a hallucination
The only thing that soothes me is music,
Which is the only thing I have at night,
Because these days there is just no passion,
I wonder what happened to the magic
“Honey, will you please go turn off the light?”
‘til morning when I go to brush my teeth.
And after which I take a swig of Gin,
Then slide my body under the cover,
To intake the beautiful comforting heat
Let’s let the lovemaking begin
We’re interrupted by his kidney stones,
Weird pain felt in my head and chestal zones.
August,
When pollen gives a hallucination
The only thing that soothes me is music,
Which is the only thing I have at night,
Because these days there is just no passion,
I wonder what happened to the magic
“Honey, will you please go turn off the light?”
Lithium
These voices
They tell me
To light a match
Go set fire
To everything
Parasitic thoughts
Infesting my brain
I’ve lost my mind
Walls close in
I’m screaming
“Help me”,
I can’t do
This on my own
How will I
Survive, alone?
These voices
In my head
They just won’t leave
Will not let
Me go
I can’t
Break free, just
Can’t let this go
I need my
Lithium, please
Cant deal
With the voices
There’s nowhere to hide
You took away
My safety
I’m not
Addicted to the
Carbonate or the Citrate
It calms my
Mania, shame
I don’t
Want a life
Without my true saviour
Anything is better
Than emptiness
Please help
Me Lithium, don’t
Fall out of love
With me, I’ll
Do anything
Don’t lock
Me up alone
Im fine with my
Lithium, safe, strong
Together, sane
I need
To be able
To fly away full
Of clarity and
Hope, please
What is
Wrong with me?
Why can’t I just
Be sane, normal?
Don’t go
Can’t cope
With this pain
Can’t cope without my
Carbonate and Citrate
Not fair
You can
Not expect me
To live without you
I will not
I will
Press the
Self destruct button.
They tell me
To light a match
Go set fire
To everything
Parasitic thoughts
Infesting my brain
I’ve lost my mind
Walls close in
I’m screaming
“Help me”,
I can’t do
This on my own
How will I
Survive, alone?
These voices
In my head
They just won’t leave
Will not let
Me go
I can’t
Break free, just
Can’t let this go
I need my
Lithium, please
Cant deal
With the voices
There’s nowhere to hide
You took away
My safety
I’m not
Addicted to the
Carbonate or the Citrate
It calms my
Mania, shame
I don’t
Want a life
Without my true saviour
Anything is better
Than emptiness
Please help
Me Lithium, don’t
Fall out of love
With me, I’ll
Do anything
Don’t lock
Me up alone
Im fine with my
Lithium, safe, strong
Together, sane
I need
To be able
To fly away full
Of clarity and
Hope, please
What is
Wrong with me?
Why can’t I just
Be sane, normal?
Don’t go
Can’t cope
With this pain
Can’t cope without my
Carbonate and Citrate
Not fair
You can
Not expect me
To live without you
I will not
I will
Press the
Self destruct button.
Starving to Survive
She covers the scars on her arms so well
Hiding the evidence of her own private Hell
The feeling of blood is still crawling on her skin
And her fingers are down her throat to make herself thin
These voices are coming around again
The voices that caused all of the pain
Her parents don’t notice, she cries by herself
Willing herself to get better in the name of her health
The blood drips from every pierced vein in her arm
She doesn’t see that she has a problem, she doesn’t see the harm
These voices are coming around again
The voices that cause her pain
Her body is decaying, it’s just wasting away
She doesn’t see the harm or how the voices betray
She’s not hurting anymore because it just feels so right
She’s too weak to eat, but too hungry to fight
These voices are coming around again
The voices that cause her pain
Her veins are broken, her flesh is raw
It’s too late; she’s slumped over on the floor
Her fingers in her throat, razor blade at her side
The day when her heart and problems collide
The voices in her head becoming more and more evil
She’s been heading here for so long, on this downward spiral
These voices are coming around again
The voices that caused her pain
The voices are back for more
It’s too late; she lies dead on the floor.
Hiding the evidence of her own private Hell
The feeling of blood is still crawling on her skin
And her fingers are down her throat to make herself thin
These voices are coming around again
The voices that caused all of the pain
Her parents don’t notice, she cries by herself
Willing herself to get better in the name of her health
The blood drips from every pierced vein in her arm
She doesn’t see that she has a problem, she doesn’t see the harm
These voices are coming around again
The voices that cause her pain
Her body is decaying, it’s just wasting away
She doesn’t see the harm or how the voices betray
She’s not hurting anymore because it just feels so right
She’s too weak to eat, but too hungry to fight
These voices are coming around again
The voices that cause her pain
Her veins are broken, her flesh is raw
It’s too late; she’s slumped over on the floor
Her fingers in her throat, razor blade at her side
The day when her heart and problems collide
The voices in her head becoming more and more evil
She’s been heading here for so long, on this downward spiral
These voices are coming around again
The voices that caused her pain
The voices are back for more
It’s too late; she lies dead on the floor.
Death Sentence
I died in your arms that night.
Why didn’t I take a knife,
And cut you out of my life,
Like you cut me out of yours?
You tied the noose.
Fixed it to the rafters.
Placed it around my neck.
Kicked out the chair.
You grabbed the Glock.
Loaded the magazine.
Cocked the mechanism.
Turned the safety off.
You were my gallows.
As the rope held my hands.
You blinded me.
Asphyxiated me.
And now I see it’s you
Who is bad for me.
I was lost in the forest.
Now I see the wood through the trees.
I thought I loved you once
Nemo will be
My name
Forever more.
Why didn’t I take a knife,
And cut you out of my life,
Like you cut me out of yours?
You tied the noose.
Fixed it to the rafters.
Placed it around my neck.
Kicked out the chair.
You grabbed the Glock.
Loaded the magazine.
Cocked the mechanism.
Turned the safety off.
You were my gallows.
As the rope held my hands.
You blinded me.
Asphyxiated me.
And now I see it’s you
Who is bad for me.
I was lost in the forest.
Now I see the wood through the trees.
I thought I loved you once
Nemo will be
My name
Forever more.
Valentines Day, 2009
“I’m gonna kill you!” She yelled as she ran towards me, the knife in her hand. Her eyes used to be a mesmerising shade of hazel. Now they seemed almost possessed, infuriated, and dangerously out of control.
As she made one swift movement with her left hand I thought I had been punched. I fell to the floor cradling my stomach struggling for Oxygen Winded. Something warm and wet trickled over my fingertips and onto the carpet.
Blood.
Then the pain hit me. I whined as it ripped through my stomach. “Shut the fuck up!” She pulled me onto my feet by the back of my t-shirt and screamed into my face. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” What had I done to make her so mad? Did I forget to get the Milk on the way back from work? What had I done this time?
She walked over to the window, her body trembling. “Why am I surrounded by bloody idiots?” My eyes struggled to focus on her back as she turned to face me. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, retard!”
I couldn’t focus.
She came at me again. Eyes wide open. Teeth clenched together. The vein rose in her temple as she stared into my eyes. I grabbed the nearest thing to me. A baseball bat. As she moved to hurt me again, I swung the bat. It connected with the inside of her wrist, sending the knife flying out of her hand and crashing onto the table.
She let out a low whine, cradled her wrist and stared at me with her war face. Her body straightened up slowly as she turned to face me dead on. A smile crept through her face. Her eyes smiled with it. She rubbed her wrist again and began to walk towards me. Slow and full of confidence. I backed up until I tripped onto the bed. A twinge of pain was met by my hands hastily attempting to subdue it. My retreat was followed by her slow fluid movement towards me, her face softening as the ‘puppy dog eyes’ made it to her face again.
“Aww, what’s up baby K bear? There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just me. You know what’s so great about fighting?” she smiled again, that beautiful smile. “We get to make up”.
“I-I’m bleeding”
“It’s just a scratch babe” she sat down beside me, and ran her fingers over my hips. “Normally this works really well” she winked at me this time.
“I c-can’t. I think I need to go to a hospital”
She ran her fingers over the inside of both of my wrists and gripped them tightly, forcing them over my head. I let out a low moan, the skin around my wound stretched. Inducing more pain.
“You like it rough, do you?” she mocked, a malicious expression infected her familiar eyes, ridding them of any ounce of compassion that she had left.
“Please don’t” but my plea was no use. That just fuelled her motive. Her face hardened, her eyes seemed to hone in on something I had said, like a guided missile. Another smile found its way to her lips.
“Why not? You’ve never said no before. Besides, whatever you don’t give me, I will take from you.” I opened my mouth to speak. She used one hand to trap both of mine and pressed a finger to my mouth. She smiled, leaned into my ear, whispering “Just like your lovely stepdad did when you were seven”
I froze. I had never told anyone else that. I just wanted to forget it. I knew it could be used against me. But I trusted her. She let out a schoolgirl giggle. “Hit a nerve? Come on, take your clothes off” she started undoing the buttons of my work shirt. Flashbacks met my mind with unparalleled power. That Saturday, in summer. I couldn’t go through all of this again. I’d come so far.
“Stop!” I yelled half at her and half at the memory. Her eyes widened with surprise. I’d never raised my voice to her before. She sat on my lap, still holding my wrists above my head. She leaned in to me her eyes fixed on mine. She came so close to me that I could almost taste her breath. Her lips brushed mine softly then she pulled away slightly. She leaned in again and kissed me with such force that I felt the skin on the inside of my mouth snag against my teeth. Her eyes stayed fixed on mine the whole time. When she had finished, she pulled away, so I could taste blood mixed with saliva. She tasted it too and spat it out onto the carpet.
I rolled over into the foetal position holding my stomach, as tears began to roll their way down my hot cheeks. I’d let this happen to me again. I didn’t even try to fight her off me. I knew there was no point. I didn’t have the strength in me. I felt her get up from the bed.
She ran her fingers through my hair softly. “You were great. As usual” I stared at the wall, trying to repress from my memory what had just happened forever. She got up and turned to me “Hey, I was talking to you!” She grabbed my hair and pulled me up from the bed. “Get dressed. You disgust me”
She looked around the room, searching for something as I tried to stay upright. My dizziness had reached new heights.
“Ah!” she chirped.
I remember thinking Oh my God, what has she found?
“This’ll do” she said, slowly putting on my motorbike gloves, the ones with the carbon fibre knuckles. She delivered a sucker punch to my stomach. Point blank range onto the seeping wound.
I fell to the floor now covered in blood. An excruciating pain made its way through my stomach, and my chest, as I kneeled to cradle the pain in a futile hope that it would stop. A pain in my left breast. A tingling. I was finding it hard to breathe.
My heart…
I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear.
Was I dead?
Another pain tore its way through the back of my head and down my neck. I opened my eyes. Pressed my fingertips against my scalp.
Thick.
Sticky.
Like Jam.
More blood.
She had hit me round the back of the head with a chair. I leaned back against the cool wall. I could just make out the outline of her body. She was standing over me. Forcing me to swallow something.
A scarily familiar taste hit my tongue. It tasted chalky. Wrong.
The world started spinning. I was no longer in fear of what may happen today. I didn’t feel happy. Didn’t feel sad. For once, I felt at peace. Is this how it feels to die?
This was not how I pictured my life ending.
I thought back to all of the rows that I had with my family before she convinced me to move out. Why didn’t I listen to them?
They always knew best.
My eyes close for what I come to believe will be the last time…
“Hello? Hello, can you hear me?” a voice comes out of nowhere.
“Do you know where you are?”
There is a strong smell. Cleaning fluids. Sanitisation.
A rhythmic high-pitched beeping followed by the mechanical sound of breathing apparatus.
I wake up.
The outline of a woman dressed in blue meets my eyes. Fuzzy. Blurred. She leans over me. Mum is holding my hand, crying and caressing my cold fingers with her thumb.
“Mum…” I whisper, fighting back tears.
“Shh” She doesn’t look at me. “Why did you do it? Why didn’t you come to us? How could you do this to me?”
“But Mum –” How could she think I did this to myself?
She lets go of my hand and turns away. “There are people here to see you”
My eyes meet the wall at the end of the bed. Two police officers. They introduce themselves as Hayley and Michaela. Hayley replaces my mum on my left hand side as they take a seat on either side of my bed. Michaela clears her throat as she takes out her notebook.
After asking ‘routine’ questions, they ask my mum to wait outside. I protest but mum insists on getting a Coffee, and leaves the room. She doesn’t even like coffee. Not from hospital vending machines anyway.
Michaela is the first to break the silence. “Firstly I need to tell you that you are being placed under arrest on suspicion of Actual Bodily Harm. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you would later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”
I nod. What are they arresting me for? I know I hit her with a baseball bat but that was self defence!
“I want to begin by asking you what you remember of 15th February of this year”. My eyes are still fixed on the door my mum left open.
I’m confused. “What’s the date today?” I ask no one in particular.
“It’s Maundy Thursday” Michaela says, looking at the crucifix on the table by my hospital bed.
“Maundy Thursday?” I run through the Christian calendar in my head. “That’d mean… April…?” I frown, trying to remember.
“Ninth” Hayley finishes my sentence for me.
“We have arranged for you to see to see an independent psychologist to assess you; she’ll be here in an hour or so” Hayley fails at reassuring me.
“What do I need a psychologist for?” I snap under what she is insinuating.
They both look at each other then back at me. They think I tried to kill myself. “The doctors found a large amount of Paracetamol in your system, and officers found an empty bottle in your hand, could you explain how it got there?” Hayley was trying to be open minded, as if she could somehow believe me, but I could see through her act.
I can not remember the whole thing; huge blurs in memory fill my account.
I tell them my story…
Maybe this time I will be believed.
As she made one swift movement with her left hand I thought I had been punched. I fell to the floor cradling my stomach struggling for Oxygen Winded. Something warm and wet trickled over my fingertips and onto the carpet.
Blood.
Then the pain hit me. I whined as it ripped through my stomach. “Shut the fuck up!” She pulled me onto my feet by the back of my t-shirt and screamed into my face. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” What had I done to make her so mad? Did I forget to get the Milk on the way back from work? What had I done this time?
She walked over to the window, her body trembling. “Why am I surrounded by bloody idiots?” My eyes struggled to focus on her back as she turned to face me. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, retard!”
I couldn’t focus.
She came at me again. Eyes wide open. Teeth clenched together. The vein rose in her temple as she stared into my eyes. I grabbed the nearest thing to me. A baseball bat. As she moved to hurt me again, I swung the bat. It connected with the inside of her wrist, sending the knife flying out of her hand and crashing onto the table.
She let out a low whine, cradled her wrist and stared at me with her war face. Her body straightened up slowly as she turned to face me dead on. A smile crept through her face. Her eyes smiled with it. She rubbed her wrist again and began to walk towards me. Slow and full of confidence. I backed up until I tripped onto the bed. A twinge of pain was met by my hands hastily attempting to subdue it. My retreat was followed by her slow fluid movement towards me, her face softening as the ‘puppy dog eyes’ made it to her face again.
“Aww, what’s up baby K bear? There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just me. You know what’s so great about fighting?” she smiled again, that beautiful smile. “We get to make up”.
“I-I’m bleeding”
“It’s just a scratch babe” she sat down beside me, and ran her fingers over my hips. “Normally this works really well” she winked at me this time.
“I c-can’t. I think I need to go to a hospital”
She ran her fingers over the inside of both of my wrists and gripped them tightly, forcing them over my head. I let out a low moan, the skin around my wound stretched. Inducing more pain.
“You like it rough, do you?” she mocked, a malicious expression infected her familiar eyes, ridding them of any ounce of compassion that she had left.
“Please don’t” but my plea was no use. That just fuelled her motive. Her face hardened, her eyes seemed to hone in on something I had said, like a guided missile. Another smile found its way to her lips.
“Why not? You’ve never said no before. Besides, whatever you don’t give me, I will take from you.” I opened my mouth to speak. She used one hand to trap both of mine and pressed a finger to my mouth. She smiled, leaned into my ear, whispering “Just like your lovely stepdad did when you were seven”
I froze. I had never told anyone else that. I just wanted to forget it. I knew it could be used against me. But I trusted her. She let out a schoolgirl giggle. “Hit a nerve? Come on, take your clothes off” she started undoing the buttons of my work shirt. Flashbacks met my mind with unparalleled power. That Saturday, in summer. I couldn’t go through all of this again. I’d come so far.
“Stop!” I yelled half at her and half at the memory. Her eyes widened with surprise. I’d never raised my voice to her before. She sat on my lap, still holding my wrists above my head. She leaned in to me her eyes fixed on mine. She came so close to me that I could almost taste her breath. Her lips brushed mine softly then she pulled away slightly. She leaned in again and kissed me with such force that I felt the skin on the inside of my mouth snag against my teeth. Her eyes stayed fixed on mine the whole time. When she had finished, she pulled away, so I could taste blood mixed with saliva. She tasted it too and spat it out onto the carpet.
I rolled over into the foetal position holding my stomach, as tears began to roll their way down my hot cheeks. I’d let this happen to me again. I didn’t even try to fight her off me. I knew there was no point. I didn’t have the strength in me. I felt her get up from the bed.
She ran her fingers through my hair softly. “You were great. As usual” I stared at the wall, trying to repress from my memory what had just happened forever. She got up and turned to me “Hey, I was talking to you!” She grabbed my hair and pulled me up from the bed. “Get dressed. You disgust me”
She looked around the room, searching for something as I tried to stay upright. My dizziness had reached new heights.
“Ah!” she chirped.
I remember thinking Oh my God, what has she found?
“This’ll do” she said, slowly putting on my motorbike gloves, the ones with the carbon fibre knuckles. She delivered a sucker punch to my stomach. Point blank range onto the seeping wound.
I fell to the floor now covered in blood. An excruciating pain made its way through my stomach, and my chest, as I kneeled to cradle the pain in a futile hope that it would stop. A pain in my left breast. A tingling. I was finding it hard to breathe.
My heart…
I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear.
Was I dead?
Another pain tore its way through the back of my head and down my neck. I opened my eyes. Pressed my fingertips against my scalp.
Thick.
Sticky.
Like Jam.
More blood.
She had hit me round the back of the head with a chair. I leaned back against the cool wall. I could just make out the outline of her body. She was standing over me. Forcing me to swallow something.
A scarily familiar taste hit my tongue. It tasted chalky. Wrong.
The world started spinning. I was no longer in fear of what may happen today. I didn’t feel happy. Didn’t feel sad. For once, I felt at peace. Is this how it feels to die?
This was not how I pictured my life ending.
I thought back to all of the rows that I had with my family before she convinced me to move out. Why didn’t I listen to them?
They always knew best.
My eyes close for what I come to believe will be the last time…
“Hello? Hello, can you hear me?” a voice comes out of nowhere.
“Do you know where you are?”
There is a strong smell. Cleaning fluids. Sanitisation.
A rhythmic high-pitched beeping followed by the mechanical sound of breathing apparatus.
I wake up.
The outline of a woman dressed in blue meets my eyes. Fuzzy. Blurred. She leans over me. Mum is holding my hand, crying and caressing my cold fingers with her thumb.
“Mum…” I whisper, fighting back tears.
“Shh” She doesn’t look at me. “Why did you do it? Why didn’t you come to us? How could you do this to me?”
“But Mum –” How could she think I did this to myself?
She lets go of my hand and turns away. “There are people here to see you”
My eyes meet the wall at the end of the bed. Two police officers. They introduce themselves as Hayley and Michaela. Hayley replaces my mum on my left hand side as they take a seat on either side of my bed. Michaela clears her throat as she takes out her notebook.
After asking ‘routine’ questions, they ask my mum to wait outside. I protest but mum insists on getting a Coffee, and leaves the room. She doesn’t even like coffee. Not from hospital vending machines anyway.
Michaela is the first to break the silence. “Firstly I need to tell you that you are being placed under arrest on suspicion of Actual Bodily Harm. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you would later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”
I nod. What are they arresting me for? I know I hit her with a baseball bat but that was self defence!
“I want to begin by asking you what you remember of 15th February of this year”. My eyes are still fixed on the door my mum left open.
I’m confused. “What’s the date today?” I ask no one in particular.
“It’s Maundy Thursday” Michaela says, looking at the crucifix on the table by my hospital bed.
“Maundy Thursday?” I run through the Christian calendar in my head. “That’d mean… April…?” I frown, trying to remember.
“Ninth” Hayley finishes my sentence for me.
“We have arranged for you to see to see an independent psychologist to assess you; she’ll be here in an hour or so” Hayley fails at reassuring me.
“What do I need a psychologist for?” I snap under what she is insinuating.
They both look at each other then back at me. They think I tried to kill myself. “The doctors found a large amount of Paracetamol in your system, and officers found an empty bottle in your hand, could you explain how it got there?” Hayley was trying to be open minded, as if she could somehow believe me, but I could see through her act.
I can not remember the whole thing; huge blurs in memory fill my account.
I tell them my story…
Maybe this time I will be believed.
Session one
I stare at the solid Oak door. My eyes trace the grain of the wood. The long winding paths that they make, crossing over one another every so often on their varnished travels.
I knock on the wooden door. Its solidity raps against my knuckles. His familiar voice beckons me in. I walk over to the black leather sofa and sit down. The cushions are so soft that I’m half expecting to fall into another world. A world where there is still hope.
He opens the conversation with the question he asks me every single week. “How are you feeling today, Grace?” His pen held rigidly in his hand ready to jot down notes in the secret journal that contains my darkest, most disturbing secrets.
I answer with the same answer as I always do.
“Fine.”
He scribbles something down then replaces the cap of his Parker pen with a click. His eyes meet mine. I look at the pictures on the wall, cradled by the sickly pea green wallpaper, the flower pot in the corner, the fish bowl on a wooden stand by the window. Anything to escape his intruding stare.
“I would like to ask you a question – and I would like your answer to be truthful.” I look down at my hands. He takes my hesitation as a yes. He points at the chain around my neck. Another betrayal of who I should be. My eyes stray to the open window, the warm summer air tickling my spine. I look amongst the trees and the people in the street getting on with their lives. Their perfect, problem free lives. I envy them. They have no idea how lucky they are. I don’t know who I am.
“Are you a catholic?”
I close my eyes. I don’t understand. Why is he asking me this? And what has it got to do with why we are here?
I open my eyes. “Used to be.”
He jots something down. “Then why do you still wear your crucifix?”
I could feel his eyes burning into me.
“I lost my faith when my father passed away.” He was writing again. A knot had grown in the pit of my stomach. His question had disturbed something deep within me; placing a tight grip around my heart.
“When your father killed himself?”
I was now in a lift freefalling twelve floors to the ground. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve casually and continued to stare out the window at the outside world. The breeze made the leaves dance on the arms of the trees. A squirrel ran up to it with an Acorn in its mouth.
“So you have gone from a Catholic to an Atheist?” Pen at the ready.
“Even Angels fall from Grace sometimes,” I whispered.
“You have lost all of your beliefs over one incident?”
Incident.
That word tore its way through my chest, my lungs. My head. It left a gaping hole within me. The grip around my heart increased ten-fold.
“I have my own beliefs now” I muttered, looking down at my hands cradling the sleeves of my jumper, concealing my own dirty little secret.
“Maybe I would like to hear them sometime.”
“Maybe I’d like to keep them to myself.” I felt a fireball rise up through my now heavy stomach. My head was waging its own silent war with my heart, as the lump in my throat grew. I stood and walked to the door, placed my clammy hand on the cool steel of the doorknob. I turned it.
“How can you expect me to help you when you can’t even help yourself?”
I stopped. Closed my eyes. Whispered.
“Only God can still help me when I don’t want to be saved…”
I knock on the wooden door. Its solidity raps against my knuckles. His familiar voice beckons me in. I walk over to the black leather sofa and sit down. The cushions are so soft that I’m half expecting to fall into another world. A world where there is still hope.
He opens the conversation with the question he asks me every single week. “How are you feeling today, Grace?” His pen held rigidly in his hand ready to jot down notes in the secret journal that contains my darkest, most disturbing secrets.
I answer with the same answer as I always do.
“Fine.”
He scribbles something down then replaces the cap of his Parker pen with a click. His eyes meet mine. I look at the pictures on the wall, cradled by the sickly pea green wallpaper, the flower pot in the corner, the fish bowl on a wooden stand by the window. Anything to escape his intruding stare.
“I would like to ask you a question – and I would like your answer to be truthful.” I look down at my hands. He takes my hesitation as a yes. He points at the chain around my neck. Another betrayal of who I should be. My eyes stray to the open window, the warm summer air tickling my spine. I look amongst the trees and the people in the street getting on with their lives. Their perfect, problem free lives. I envy them. They have no idea how lucky they are. I don’t know who I am.
“Are you a catholic?”
I close my eyes. I don’t understand. Why is he asking me this? And what has it got to do with why we are here?
I open my eyes. “Used to be.”
He jots something down. “Then why do you still wear your crucifix?”
I could feel his eyes burning into me.
“I lost my faith when my father passed away.” He was writing again. A knot had grown in the pit of my stomach. His question had disturbed something deep within me; placing a tight grip around my heart.
“When your father killed himself?”
I was now in a lift freefalling twelve floors to the ground. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve casually and continued to stare out the window at the outside world. The breeze made the leaves dance on the arms of the trees. A squirrel ran up to it with an Acorn in its mouth.
“So you have gone from a Catholic to an Atheist?” Pen at the ready.
“Even Angels fall from Grace sometimes,” I whispered.
“You have lost all of your beliefs over one incident?”
Incident.
That word tore its way through my chest, my lungs. My head. It left a gaping hole within me. The grip around my heart increased ten-fold.
“I have my own beliefs now” I muttered, looking down at my hands cradling the sleeves of my jumper, concealing my own dirty little secret.
“Maybe I would like to hear them sometime.”
“Maybe I’d like to keep them to myself.” I felt a fireball rise up through my now heavy stomach. My head was waging its own silent war with my heart, as the lump in my throat grew. I stood and walked to the door, placed my clammy hand on the cool steel of the doorknob. I turned it.
“How can you expect me to help you when you can’t even help yourself?”
I stopped. Closed my eyes. Whispered.
“Only God can still help me when I don’t want to be saved…”
Welcome!
Well, hello there!
Welcome to my blog!
Here, I will post up some stuff I have been working on etc and you can let me know what you think! Honesty, of course, would be greatly appreciated, but please, keep it polite :)
I look forward to getting your opinions!
I am also prepared to critique others work.
Goodbye for now!
Tempest
Welcome to my blog!
Here, I will post up some stuff I have been working on etc and you can let me know what you think! Honesty, of course, would be greatly appreciated, but please, keep it polite :)
I look forward to getting your opinions!
I am also prepared to critique others work.
Goodbye for now!
Tempest