Reece's Haven

4

"I want you. Beautiful, clumsy, sassy  you..."
– Nautica

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~ D O R O T H Y ~

October 1997

It's half past midnight and I'm tossing and turning in my bed. Every time I move, I expect a squeaky sound to grace my ears, but it never does. Unlike the bed back in the dormitory, this one is spacious and quite comfortable. I guess it will take time for me to fully appreciate it.

As I shuffle in bed, my mind is flooded with too many thoughts. I am confused about what I should feel towards my mother. The fact that she, like me, was a victim to abuse is reminding me of everything that had happened to me, including that night.

"Forget the past," I whisper to myself, shutting my eyes tight in an attempt to sleep.

But how can I forget the past? Everything that has happened today reminds me of it.

"Urgh!" I groan, shooting up in a sitting position.

I feel weak and pathetic by not being able to stop the past from haunting me.

I have to be strong.

...I have to face it.

I rip the blanket off from my body and leave my bed. I throw open the curtains, allowing the street light to pour into my room. I walk towards the full length mirror and stare at myself. The light hits the white midi-dress nightgown that I am wearing, giving it an ominous glow. My dark, wavy hair cascades to just above my waist.

I reach for the spaghetti straps and pull them down, along with my dress. The dress that covers every inch of my body's curves so well is now lying on the floor and I step over it. Standing in just my underwear, I slowly turn my body around to look at the reflection of my back. I can very vaguely see thin streaks scratched across my back, like shooting stars except that they never disappear.

I never touch my back. I never had the courage to. But today, I have to overcome it.

With trembling hands, I reach to my back and, ever so slowly, brush my fingertips against them.

My breath gets caught.

Oh gosh...

I feel them.

They are a bit thick and are a bit harder in texture compared to my unharmed skin.

Suddenly, it feels like someone sliced my old wounds open again. Memories of that night pour into my mind, ruthless and vivid.

The blood.

The pain.

The despair.

The trauma is still there.

It's always there.

My whole body begins to shake and my bedroom suddenly feels suffocating. I pick up my dress from the floor and hastily put it on before dashing out. I enter the kitchen, where there is a large glass door that leads to the garden. Unlocking the door with a click, I open it wide and enter the garden, feeling the cold air hit my face.

"Calm down, Dorothy," I whisper to myself, trying to breathe in and out deeply. "Calm down."

I step forward until my bare feet feel the cool, wet grass. My vision becomes blurry and wetness spreads down my cheeks. Images of that horrid woman and the steel ruler drenched in my own blood plague my mind.  I crouch down onto the grass, covering my face with my trembling hands. I bite my lower lip to avoid making any sound of my cries.