TW: panic attack.
Please do not feel forced to read that part, you can skip it as soon as u see it happening.
Luella Jones
You're a fucking bitch!! That's what you are!" I hear her yell at my face.
"Don't you dare call yourself a daughter of mine!"
"You're absolutely useless! So fucking not worth it! If you die now it'll be just another weigh off my shoulders!" She spits in my face, looking at nothing but through my eyes.
"Go fucking die, you don't deserve to live." She points a finger at me as she yells even louder.
"Is this how I raised you?? Because I dont remember raising a bitch." She brings her hand up to slap me, my face going to the right because of how hard she hit.
"Gosh you're so fucking dumb, you definitely get it from your aunts." She grabs my hair roughly, pushing me away from her way, going straight up to her room.
"I want this kitchen shinning and clean as a crystal! If you dare leave one dirty thing in the way, you'll be out of this house!" She turns around one last time spitting on the ground "I would've raised a dog better than I did to you."
I stay grounded in my place, my crying getting louder now.
She moves up to the stairs, going faster than ever, seeing her slip and trip on the carpet, making her head roll backwards as she falls down to the last step of it.
I see blood dripping down her head, causing my heart to crumble in my chest.
It all happened so fast, I don't even have to blink and it's right in front of me.
"Mom! Mom! No! Please no! Wake up! Please!" I yell at her as I crouch down, holding her face firmly in my hands, shaking it a bit.
"Mom pease wake up! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please just wake up" I yell louder now, tears streaming down my cheeks, wetting my clothes.
I see my dad in the corner of the room, looking shamefully at me, shaking his head in disappointment as he starts talking "This is all your fault! You can't do anything right! This is what happens when your being an ungrateful brat, you bitch!"
I shake my head quickly."Dad please help, please I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean it. I swear I'll clean the whole house for you, just please help mom" I say as I choke on my own sobs, feeling myself cry even louder, if that was possible.
"No! You don't deserve help! You get to do this on your own! You killed her! You're going to fix it! Alone!" He shouts through his gritted teeth, leaving me alone in the house as he disappears through thin air.
"Mom wake up! Please wake up! I promise I'll do anything for you! Just please wake up!" I shake her body even more, strongly feeling a deep pain in my chest.
"Mom! Please! I'm begging you! I said I'm sorry!"
"Mom!"
I shoot out of my bed, gasping for air, as I look franticly around.
My eyes are so wide, feeling sweat coast my whole forehead, neck, and palms.
I know I just had a nightmare, making me slightly dizzy.
I feel so trapped, like the walls are caving in. I pull the cover off of me quickly, getting out of bed to walk to my bathroom.
I'm choking on air, not knowing how to breathe anymore.
I go to my sink, gripping it tightly I see my own knuckles turn white.
"It was just a dream, it's not real. It's not real. It's not real." I say to myself over and over again, now crying because of how much it affected me. It's always like this, I clearly know they aren't real, but it's this thing in my head that tries to convince me they'll happen at some point, making me so scared about it.
I turn the water on, trying to hide my sobs as much as I can so others won't hear me. I cup my hands over my mouth, crying hard into it as i squeeze my eyes shut.
This always happens, I should've known better to not sleep.
"C'mon breathe, you know how to breathe, jusy breathe, in and out, in and out." I say in encouragement, staring at myself in the mirror, trying to calm my breath down.
I fall to the ground, not taking standing up any longer.
I feel my chest hurting, clunching it with my hand to try and ease the pain, as I'm still crying.
"C'mon five things you can see." I whisper to myself, slowly looking around my bathroom.
The shampoo in my bathtub, my toothbrush, the sink, the trashcan, and the shower head.
"Four things you can touch." I whisper to myself again, using a technique I've been using for years now.
The water coming down the sink, the toilet paper, my loafa wash, and the mirror.
"Three things you can hear."
The water running, my own sobs, the voice in my head helping through all of this.
"Two things you can smell."
My shampoo, and the bathroom floor, because I mopped it yesterday.
"One thing you can taste."
Water.
I keep breathing in through my nose, out of my mouth while thinking of all these things, distracting myself from the dark thoughts I just had, noticing how it's kind of calmed down now after a few minutes.
I stay on the ground a little bit, not having the strength to get up after that.
I slowly do so, holding on to my sink again. I wash my face three times with cold water, knowing it always helps.
I get out of my bathroom, going to turn my bedroom light on, not wanting to be in the dark anymore.
I go to check my phone's time, seeing it's 2:14am.
Well, at least I slept for about 6 hours.
I go to change my clothes, my sweat wetting the edges of my white hoodie, pulling it off my head, doing the same to my shirt.
I feel the cold air hit my breasts as I rush to put on another hoodie, this time being black.
I run a hand through my hair, tip toeing to my door to go check on....my mom.
It's a weird thing really, everytime I have this kind of nightmare, I always check up on her, I know she'd be alive, but it's always that part of me that needs reassurance.
I see the bedroom door slightly cracked, peeking through it to see her sleeping.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Now going down the stairs to get water.
I don't even know what caused my nightmare, sometimes nothing really triggers them, they just happen out of nowhere. I've learnt to not sleep everytime I'm feeling more sad than usual, because I know it's my brain's way of pulling them up during my sleep.
Sometimes music helps, sometimes it makes it worse, I don't really get it, but I've dealt with this since I was 13, so it doesn't really matter what or who causes them anymore.
Yes, I've been having those since I was 13, they dont always end up the same, but they always start with her yelling at me.
It's not like I can go to therapy or something, it's really expensive, and plus, my mom believes that mental illnesses are nothing but what children make out to be, exaggerating in the way they feel.
I pretend that her words don't hit as much as they used to anymore, I've lived with them my entire life, but they always come back to bite me in the ass while sleeping.
It's the trauma since the childhood, really. I barely even remember what happened sometimes, but I still get small glimpses of it in my nightmares.
I pull the blankets over me now again in my bedroom, feeling colder because of what I just went through.
I won't sleep, I know I won't, so I just pull my phone in my hand, scrolling through pinterest or instagram, whatever helps distract me.
After all, it's always the distractions that help, nothing more.