A Mother's Bond

65

Beyoncé  December 6, 2016
My eyes scanned the page, taking in the intricate loops of Sarayah's writing. A distant part of my brain realized this was my first time seeing her handwriting. My fingers ran lightly over her words, wondering what pain they contained. She'd marked off three entries. The first two were two pages each. The last one was longer, but she'd only marked one of its pages for me to read.

This was going to be incredibly difficult. The trouble wouldn't be starting, it would be finishing. Continuing to read. Making myself push past my own pain to give Sarayah the opportunity to release some of hers. I took another deep breath before finally allowing my mind to read the words in front of me.

November 10th

Cynthia told me I should write in you...Should I call you a 'you'? I kind of hate that. It's like giving you a life of your own, and the last thing I want to do is breathe life into the shit I'm about to write.

Where do I start? I guess I should say why I'm even doing this. I'm in rehab. Why? I tried to kill myself. I don't know if I wanted to die, but I didn't want to live anymore.

My life hasn't ever been the best, but I dealt with it.

But something must've broken along the way. That part of you that feels human? That part that tells you you're worth something? Mine was chipped from an early age, so I guess it was only a matter of time.

Anyway, I'm rambling. Maybe this is my way of avoiding. I'm good at that. Even now. I'm avoiding.

When I was five, I had my first sexual experience. I think that's when those essential parts of me started rotting away.

You know, I had this friend when I was younger who was scared of the dentist. One day his tooth started hurting, but instead of just telling his mom about it, he ignored it. FOR MONTHS. Then one day he was eating a burger, and his tooth broke off. Just like that. It was in his mouth, where it was supposed to be, and then it was on the desk. And can you believe he had the nerve to be surprised? I couldn't. He should've seen it coming, right? He knew something was wrong and did nothing to fix it, as if ignoring it would somehow make it go away. Even at a young age I thought, how stupid.

But that's exactly what I did.

He took a piece of me and everyday that hole got bigger. More shit happened, and it kept chipping away at me until I felt empty. And then eventually, I just broke.

I closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Five. Five years old. That was almost immediately after she'd been taken from me. I'd spent a lot of time imagining the horrors she'd had to face. Was she hungry? Were they hitting her?...Was she still alive? But I'd never let my mind–

I covered my wet face with my hand. My fingers dug into the sides of my face as I tried to squeeze the images from my head.

"I can't do this," I mumbled.

But the moment I put the notebook down, I heard Sarayah's words echo through my head. She'd chosen me to see her. The very least I could do was open my fucking eyes.

I picked the notebook back up and flipped to the next marked entry.

November 16th

So yesterday I mentioned Alison and her 'jobs'. Well, today Cynthia pointed out their connection to my later compliance. I've been writing about, or, well I've just been vaguely mentioning some of the bad things I've done. Maybe it's time to write them down. Release them from my mind.

When I was younger, I saw Alison sell her body like it was just another product. I didn't like it. But she made me understand that it was necessary. It was a last resort that she was only doing for my benefit.