Destiny Destroyed

Chapter 2 (1985)

"Wake up Destiny. Dinners ready," Faith says as she softly pokes me. She knows not to scare me. Sleeping isn't easy for me and when I do sleep, I don't like being startled awake. The last two years of my life have scared me in more ways than one. After my boyfriend and I tried to kill ourselves, I woke with no memory of the past year before that. It was like tenth grade never existed. I can remember everything before that. I sit up and look down at the ever-present scars on my wrists. My second unsuccessful attempt. I don't know why I tried to kill myself. I think it's something bad though. There's something dark I am hiding from. It's always there. In the back of my mind. A mind that I can't find.

I make my way down the stairs and to the kitchen. "Hi Princess," my dad says when I walk in. "Hi daddy," I say as cheerful as I can hoping to make him happy. I even throw in a smile. "Did you have a good day," he asks as I sit. I didn't kill myself so you can call it a good day I think to myself. "I did," I say not missing the scowl on my mom's face. I take a scoop of casserole and attempt to eat. Faith is talking about her science project, so no one is really paying attention to me. I wish desperately we had a dog. I eat a little and spread the rest out on the plate hoping it looks like I ate more than I did.

My mom shakes her head when she notices my plate. I am grateful she doesn't say anything. I help her clear the table and load the dishwasher. We all sit in the family room and watch a movie after dinner. They try to keep me busy. I do better when I am busy. It's when I am alone or bored that I get that feeling. It's a feeling of dread. I don't understand it. It just creeps in and steals my breath away. It's like the Grimm reaper is stalking me. I feel like there is no escape but my inevitable death.

When the movie ends, I take my meds and go to bed. I'm sleeping a little better on the new meds. The nightmares are gone. I think about the jumbled mess of nightmares I have. I can't make any sense out of them. It's like clips of weird shit flashing in my head. My therapist has spent hours trying to get me to talk about them. I don't really understand them so how am I supposed to talk about them. It's like I took LSD or some other kind of drug you hear weird shit about. They don't make any sense. I clear my thoughts as I feel my eyes growing heavy. The meds are kicking in.

My days pass in a blur. A couple weeks later when I try to wear the AC/DC shirt to school again, neither Faith nor my mom will let me. "What is so important about that shirt Destiny," my mom huffs. "You can't even remember where it came from. It's not flattering at all on you." I pick up the shirt and look at it. I run my hand over it. I wait for the memory to come, but today it doesn't. I drop the shirt back onto my bed. Frustrated I head to my dresser to look for something else to wear. I pull out a short sleeve blue blouse. It's wrinkled beyond any help. It's wrinkled because there are no hangers in the house. It will stay wrinkled because there is no iron in the house. It's all thanks to me. I shove the blouse on and slip into a clean pair of jeans.

I don't feel like having wet hair dripping down my back, so I put my hair up into a ponytail and then clipped it to the top of my head. I haven't figured out how to off myself with either item yet, so it is still on the approved items list. And as always, no need to look in the mirror. We don't have any of those anywhere in the house. Hope I don't have a booger hanging. Actually, I don't really care if I do. I don't care what I look like. It's quite the opposite of what I used to be. I made sure I always looked perfect. It was a must with Gabby. You can't hang out with me if you look like a slob she used to say to Tara and me. But we weren't allowed to ever look better than her.

This day goes pretty much like all the prior ones. No one talks to me, but they talk about me. Today my mom drives me to my therapy session after school. I sit in front of Dr. Adams and stare at her. I've been doing this twice a week since my release several weeks ago. I never talked about much at Meadow Crest. They tried to get me to open up, but I kept most of my thoughts in my head. I finally started talking over the summer. It was the only way they would release me. I overheard them talking to my parents. So, I told them what they wanted to hear. It was easy. I needed to get out of there. I needed to find a way to finish what I started. That was never going to happen at Meadow Crest.