Fun fact, the color for security is dark blue.
If security is dark blue does that mean a lack of security is crimson red?
When my mother (previously mentioned goddess) was growing up, my grandparents moved around quite a bit, having my mom go through a series of awkward first day- transfer student- interactions. Not wanting the same thing for me, my mother sought out solidity. I had mentioned before that due to my mystical "shouldn't exist but totally do" status, my mother relied heavily on my uncles wife to watch me while she was at work. It is more accurate to say that I was in fact, watching my uncles wife.
You see, my uncles wife was very fond of drinking, doing drugs and avoiding responsibilities. I was once even kidnapped at 3 years old by my older brothers, literally ex- con, father. This was due to my "aunt" not paying any attention as I casually walked outside, and got into the vehicle of a stranger because..."Hey look... my brothers.."exciting stuff right?! Obviously my mother found me, she didn't have to look hard, even though my own dad did not claim me, my brothers father did...over and over again. Glad someone could see my greatness, even if it was a crazy, rampaging, drunk criminal. -YEET!-
To add fuel to my already unstable fire, my uncle and his wife had 4 kids, 3 boys and a girl. The two oldest boys are born in 2 year stair step formation after me. Her two youngest are Irish twins (Boy than girl) born 11/12 years after me. As you might have figured out by now, we all lived together. My family owns a 3 bedroom 1 bathroom house smack dab in the middle of nowhere, backwoods, East Texas. So, not only was my uncles wife not paying any attention to me but her own sons often got forgotten, leaving the 3 of us to adventure our backwoods hick life mostly unsupervised.
Second to that great fuel, was her extensive need to OVERSHARE every detail she could possibly imagine with her pre-adolescent niece. My uncles wife was not only alcoholic, and drug addict but also a sexual deviant. Being as my mom and uncle were at work all the time, my "aunt" found unique "remedies" for her lust ridden addiction, which she would inevitably share with me. Let us just say that she was not the most faithful or modest wife, aunt or mother. I bet you are wondering why I never said anything to my uncle, or even my mom. The answer is simple really, I was afraid. I didn't think anyone would believe me, I didn't want to get in trouble... but most importantly, I didn't want to hurt my family.
Remember my brothers? Well they only visited during the summer and winter break, otherwise they stayed in Mississippi with their father's sister... the whole convict father thing meant that they didn't see him not behind bars. As I am sure you can imagine, they were not so happy with the way life was going for them in Mississippi. SO, my brothers would often take it out on me whenever they saw me. As we got older, I discovered it was a weird jealousy based around our mother. One that my brothers felt primarily.
It wasn't long until my grandparents, and 2 other uncles became a part of my daily life as well. My grandmother is a loss story of her own so I digress for now. So even though my physical home stayed static the environment and emotional climate around me was constantly shifting.
"Much like a scatter-blot test, my dark blue security was corrupted with rushes of intruding color causing both inner and outer chaos. Muddy, becomes the beauty of a hidden image when color corrupts the message."~Katt Drury
The fall after I turned 14 years old my entire sense of security shifted and then ultimately shattered. My uncle, may he now rest in peace, was also diagnosed with PTSD. One night his lovely wife convinced him to drink with her, like they did back when they were teenagers. My uncle, having previously served as a member of our Navy force, knew he shouldn't be drinking due to violent flashbacks and outbursts, so he initially refused. After a bit of discussion my 3 uncles, 2 older brothers and my eldest cousin made a pact. As along as the men stayed awake to prevent any mishaps, than Joey would drink. They say, hindsight is always 20/20, but I still wish I knew then, what I know now. I wish 6 men was enough security...
It was dark when I felt someone ever so lightly shaking my shoulder, to this day I can still hear the breathy sound of my name being said, almost in shame. When I opened my eyes, there was no-one, but the light down the hall from the bathroom was glowing brightly. Thinking one of my brothers must have left the light on, I lazily shifted out of my bed and half-asleep slumped down the hallway to the bathroom. What I saw next, burned into my memory like a hot brand onto skin. A lady I had never seen before was curled into a ball, knees to her chest, naked in my bathtub with blood streaming down her face as the shower rained onto her. She was shaking all over and her eyes flashed with both pleading and embarrassment. Her features resembled that of a round faced Chinese woman, yet she looked so familiar. After the shock broke I realized, she was not a random Chinese woman, but in fact a very hurt version of my aunt Libby. My uncles wife, who has features that usually resemble a Nordic Englishwoman, where all kinds of distorted.
Having NO IDEA what in the world was happening I ran back down the hall, grabbed the blanket off my bed and put it around my aunt as quickly as I could. I was not thinking clearly, so I briefly forgot to turn the shower off before wrapping her in the blanket, but she was shivering and bloody so by barely-a-teenager logic this meant cold, not shock. After wrapping her up, I ran out the back door as fast as I could to the secondary apartment (affectionately referred to by the family as "The Shop") we had built in the back yard to help aid the amount of people living in our house at this time. The same 3 bedroom 1 bath that had once only held my mom, myself and my uncles family before now had 13- 15 residents depending on if my eldest cousin, or my brothers best-friends were visiting or not. On this day, everyone was home. My mind raced as I ran outside, all I could think was that someone must have broken in, I just needed wake up my uncle, he would make it all better... or at-least catch the bad guy. When I reached the doorway of the shop, I was once again welcomed to a mental branding. Everything was covered in blood, not to mention my uncle was no-where in sight. Terror now stormed inside of me and I did a complete 180* in time to see my uncles van pulling out of our driveway. I ran as fast as I could, chasing after him, screaming "Wait! Uncle Joey Come back! Aunt Libby is in the bathroom and she's covered in blood... WAIT!!! UNCLE Joey! Come back, Uncle Joey!" over and over again. I made it half-way down our drive way before his van was no longer in sight. In total, only about 5 minutes had passed since I had awakened, but every second felt like hours. At yet ANOTHER impasse, my heart pounded, mind raced and for a brief second I was unsure of if this was real or a very vivid nightmare. Deciding to wake my grandfather I took off back inside the house, through the living-room of sleeping men -So much for "staying up to prevent mishaps.." huh?- and down the hall to my grandparents room.
It should be noted that my grandmother is not one who likes to be woken up... much less by the sound of a hysterically crying 14 year old girl. So I tried my best to only wake my grandfather, which I assure you, did NOT work. After a series of "Caitlin Danielle what the hell are you saying? Stop crying and SPEAK." interactions, my grandparents finally had a grasp of what I was trying to telling them. At first, they believed I was having a nightmare and, in an effort to prove to me that it was just a bad dream, my grandfather went down the hall to the restroom. Unfortunately for everyone, this was a very REAL nightmare we all got to live together. "Shes not having a nightmare!" My grandfather called down the hall. Quickly my family erupted into chaos and movement. I was immediately instructed by my grandmother to wake up my mother who was than instantly rushed into taking my aunt to the hospital. No longer was there a living-room full of sleeping men, now the living-room was empty except for the brief moments of passing men as everyone hurriedly searched for the answers to last night's events. Luckily, my aunt/uncle's two oldest kids were not home that night, so only my youngest cousins needed to be relocated. After the kids were gone, and part of my family was at the hospital, the police came and raided the shop. Taking everything into evidence, snapping pictures and taping off the shop. So that Sunday, while most of my small hometown was listening to the word of god, my family was searching for WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD had happened.
My uncle met my family at the hospital and after getting my aunt settled into the trauma ward he awaited the officers taking him into booking. The bridge of my aunts eye was shattered along with some other things and she had to have facial reconstructive surgery. It was later discovered that my uncle had a drunken PTSD trip and not only hit her, but also sexually assaulted her. Even though she dropped the charges, the state of Texas still pursued him as per their right. My uncle ended up with 16 years in TDCJ which he never denied. He was a strong man, he never attempted to excuse his error. Which, blame me if you will, I have always admired him for.
So with my uncle arrested, my aunt hospitalized and my cousins temporarily relocated, my family put the situation on the back burner. Unfortunately, everyone forgot one really super, duper important step when they began to clean up the mess... Me. My family naturally rushed to aid my Uncle and Aunt, which I have never blamed anyone for. However, no one took a second to seek therapy or even talk to the barely-a-teenager who had discovered and reported it to them about her own mental facilities. To this day, I will randomly have flash backs of those 15 minutes that felt like hours. I can still smell fresh blood on old wood. Still hear the sound of my screams as I raced after my uncle. Scariest of all these, I still have trouble feeling secure in even the safest of places. After all 6 men... is not enough security.
As I wade through the storms of my past I wonder to myself, will the rain still touch me, if I become a part of it? Will the sun still shine, If I become one with the moon. Will I ever feel the dark blue fountain of security again?