WARNING. Poorly written self-destructive behavior is about to ensue. It's not graphic or anything but like idk. Tbh idk why you're reading this if you do get triggered because this book is a minefield, but do you I guess.
Sarayah October 9, 2016
I sat in the darkness of my room, waiting. I'd kept the lights off and even pulled the curtains shut, to keep the light out. But nothing helped. My head was pounding. A layer of sweat covered my body. It felt like every one of my cells was screaming in pain. I'd already missed four of my doses thanks to Beyoncé and Jay. I felt like shit.
I'd tried to sleep, but every time I shut my eyes I was assaulted with vivid nightmares. So, I stayed awake. But that brought along its own set of issues. My memory was bleeding into my conscious mind, keeping me in a constant state of panic. I was trapped in my own body, in a hell of my own creation. I was going crazy.
I pressed the heels of my palms into my temples, trying to push out the thoughts swarming my mind. It was too much. The physical pain I could handle. But the memories? No. I needed something to get me through the day. Anything. I got out of bed and crept towards the door. I pressed my ear against the wood, trying to hear Beyoncé and Jay. They'd been upstairs talking for over an hour. Every few minutes or so, I'd check to see if they were gone. I just wanted them to leave. I groaned in frustration when I heard Beyoncé's voice.
"I really don't think this is good timing, Jay. I don't want any people who aren't family up in our business. I don't even want family in our business."
Jay sighed. "Bey, we've been over this already, and you agreed. We need someone to help out around here. Carla was a great nanny for Blue. You loved her. She never let anything slip. We were only supposed to let her go for a few weeks until we got Sarayah settled. It's been months."
"Yeah because shit keeps happening."
"And shit will keep happening. I honestly don't know when things are gonna settle down so we can't keep waiting. With everything that's going on, I would feel a lot more comfortable with someone else helping us look after Blue. Another set of eyes. Your mom has Blue now, but to be honest, I think she should focus on Sarayah. Sarayah trusts her...well, more than us anyway. Maybe if they spend enough time together, alone...I don't know. Is that a bad idea?"
"No, it's a good idea." Beyoncé groaned. "But why can't you go?"
"Beyoncé. You know I have that meeting to head. I can't keep postponing it."
Beyoncé groaned even louder. "Fine! I'll be back in two hours tops. And the next time an annoying thing comes up, YOU have to do it."
Jay laughed. "Deal." There was silence for a moment. "It's nice to finally be on the same page again," Jay confessed.
I rolled my eyes. "iT'S nIce To bE On thE SaME nyah nyah nyah," I mocked quietly. I knew I was being childish, but it irked me to no end that somehow my 'drug addiction' was benefitting Beyoncé's relationship. So typical.
Beyoncé chuckled. "We just argued."
"Nah, we spoke rationally, and you actually considered my opinion. Progress."
"Whatever, don't get used to it. Two hours, Jay. Bye."
I waited, listening to her footsteps recede. I heard heavy footsteps coming to my room. I hurried back to my bed and threw my covers over me. There was a timid knock on the door.
"Sarayah, it's Dad. Can I come in?" Jay asked.
I reluctantly said yes, watching as he stood in the doorway. He squinted into the darkness, trying to make out my face.
"I just wanted to check up on you. See how you're doing."
"I'm fine," I snapped angrily.
Jay held up his hands. "Okay. I brought you some Tylenol in case you're feeling any pain. I'm gonna put it on your nightstand."
I glared at him as he set down a glass and a small plate with two pills on it. He stood there awkwardly rubbing his neck for a few seconds before he spoke.
"Listen. I need to handle some business, so I'll be in my office if you need me."
"I won't." I turned my back on him, staring out my window.
Jay sighed. "Listen, Sarayah. You were wrong for bringing drugs into this house. No question. But I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. That's not how I handle things. I just never expected one of my kids to get involved with that shit."
He paused for a few seconds. "I grew up dealing. I saw firsthand how drugs poison you, and not just your body. Your life. It destroys everything in its path. When I left the game, I promised myself I would never let that happen to me or my kids. Never. So, when I saw you...I just snapped."
I continued to stare out my window, his words rolling off my back with no impact. They meant nothing to me. Not when my body felt like it was on fire. Unless he had something stronger than some got damn Tylenol, I didn't care.
"I know you're not listening to me," Jay admitted. "Right now you're in the worst stage. You're in a lot of pain, and you're pissed off, right?"
I didn't speak.
"Yeah," he continued. "That's withdrawal. The drug's final kick trying to get you to sabotage yourself and take more. You'll do anything. Because of that, I can't trust you." He took a breath. "So, I'm locking you in your room."
I turned around at that. "Locking...me in?"
"You still have your phone, so you can call me if you need anything. But I can't let you have free rein of the house."
I started shaking. "No, wait! Don't lock me in! I can be good. I promise."
Jay shook his head, backing out of the room. "I'm sorry. I just can't trust you."
I hopped out of bed, rushing towards the door, but he shut it before I got within a foot's reach. I heard something slide shut. I twisted the doorknob. It moved both ways with ease. I yanked hard, but the door wouldn't budge. He'd installed a bolt on my door.
"JAY! DON'T LEAVE ME IN HERE!" I yelled, pounding my fists on the door. "DAD!"
My breathing picked up and my heart raced in my chest. Danger. Danger. I was in danger.
"MAMA! MAMA, LET US OUT!" I yelled, slamming my fist into the door. Blue cried against my shoulder.
"She's not coming," Chris said in an almost bored tone.
"NO!" I yelled. I slammed my palm into the door. I wasn't there anymore. I was far away. He couldn't get me. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. I had to get the fuck out of here.
I grabbed my metal ruler off my desk. I went back over to the door and stuck the edge of my ruler into the groove of the screw, twisting. I put all my focus on my task, blocking out all other thoughts. I was done in under a minute. I removed the doorknob and stuck my hand through the hole. I extended my arm as far as I could and circled the diameter, feeling around for anything. There was nothing. I figured. I pulled my hand back into my room and walked over to my dresser. I grabbed my compact mirror, a hair tie and my ruler. I wrapped the hair tie around my open mirror, securing it to the ruler and stuck the contraption through the hole. I angled it upwards.
I hummed in acknowledgment. He'd installed a slide bolt. I pulled my mirror back inside and thought for a moment. Usually, I would use a wire hanger for something like this. It was in my top five choices for repurposed household objects. Unfortunately, Beyoncé and Jay were too rich for wire hangers. So, I needed something else.
I grabbed one of my notebooks and unwound the wire. That took longer than I would've liked, but desperate times. I straightened it out and hooked the end. I stuck the wire through the hole and angled it, making it vertical to the door. I felt around for a bit before I felt the bolt. After I got a feel for the latch, it only took me a moment to pull down the slider and ease it across, unlocking it.
The door swung open. Freedom.
I paused, staring into the hallway. I'd done it. I'd escaped. That was all I'd wanted, right? To be able to get out. I thought about the pills Beyoncé most likely had in her room and shivered, my body tingling in anticipation. I shook my head. No. No, I wouldn't prove Jay right. I was in control...But I needed something.
I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I rummaged through the cabinets. They had to have a stash somewhere. I opened the top cabinet, and there they were. I grabbed the first bottle I saw and snuck back upstairs to my room.
First, I needed to make my door less...broken. I stuck to doorknob back into the hole and screwed it enough so that it wouldn't fall off. When I was satisfied with my work, I sat the liquor on my nightstand and stared at it.
Was this all there was to my life now? Numbing? I shook off the thought, grabbing the bottle and taking a deep swig. I immediately choked, coughing violently. The liquor traced a burning path to my stomach. I sat still for a second before bringing the bottle back to my lips.
What would I do after this? Beyoncé and Jay would strip the house bare after finding out what I'd done...and then I'd be left with my memories. Trapped. Forever.
I drank deeply again, trying to drown out my thoughts, but it wasn't working. If anything, it was making my thoughts more depressing. I slammed the bottle on the nightstand and stood up, swaying on my feet. I still had another option.
I snuck down the hall to Beyoncé's bedroom, stumbling slightly. I walked straight to her bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. It was clean. I frowned for a moment. She must have hidden them.
"Sneaky sneaky," I said softly.
I trailed off, my eyes landing on a tampon box. I squinted, snatching it up. I stuck my hand in and pulled out a brand-new bottle of Xanax. I glanced behind me before shoving it in my pocket. I closed her cabinet and crept back to my room.
I staggered into my bathroom and locked the door behind me. I deliberately kept my eyes down so I wouldn't have to see myself in the mirror. I filled up a glass of water and put it off to the side. I pulled out the bottle of Xanax and clumsily twisted the childproof lock. When it popped open, a muffled 6 O'clock Blues started playing. It took me a second to register what was happening. It was Solo's ringtone. I struggled a bit before finally pulling my phone out of my pocket. Solo was calling me. A flash of shame hit me, but I brushed it off, setting my phone on the counter.
"Sorry," I slurred sardonically. "Sarayah can't come to the phone right now because she's hiding her drug addiction."
I forced myself to laugh, ignoring the pricks of disgust and sadness that poked at me. When it stopped ringing, I reached for the pills again. Just as I wrapped my hand around the bottle, the song picked up. I looked over at my phone. She was calling again. The bottle shook in my hand, pills rattling lightly inside. I stared at Solo's name, the seeds of self-hate growing inside me. Choking me.
Sweat beaded down my face as I waited in agony for it to stop. I couldn't stand it anymore. Finally, it stopped ringing. I breathed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I lifted the bottle again. The notes of the pre-chorus blared out again, startling me. I jumped, causing the pills to spill on the counter.
"FUCK!" I swore. "Why won't it STOP?"
I put my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound of Solo's voice singing to me. Calling to me.
I backed up, my back finally hitting the corner. I sunk to my knees.
"STOP CALLING ME. STOP CALLING ME." I shouted, not wanting to hear her tender lyrics.
When I was sure it was over, I slowly lowered my hands. I looked up, realizing I was in the same corner I'd been in the day before, crouched in an eerily similar position. I shuddered at the memory. The way Beyoncé had looked at me. Her expression. Like she was looking at someone completely new. A stranger. And she was terrified. 'What happened to you?' She'd asked me.
A question I'd asked so many times. As if somehow, I'd misplaced...myself.
What happened to me?
A nine-year-old boy grinned at me from his desk, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
"Your hair is crazy, and you're kinda weird...I like that," the little boy announced, stroking his chin in thought.
He gestured to a curly haired girl who sat behind him. "That's Nevaeh. I'm Mekhi. You can be our new best friend."
"What happened to me?" I whispered aloud.
"It's actually really easy," a 10-year-old me assured Vaeh and Kai who were looking up at me from the ground, skeptical looks on their faces.
"All you gotta do is grab on and pull yourself up." I reached the higher branch, demonstrating for them. "Just like that."
Vaeh made a face. "I don't think we can do that."
"Sure you can," I said cheerfully. "I'll help." I swung down to the lower branch and got on my knees reaching down.
Vaeh grabbed my hand, and I pulled her up.
"What happened to me?" I repeated angrily, my eyes blurring.
"Sarayah! Grab my hand!" a 13-year-old Kai yelled, skating quickly beside me.
He reached out, and I skated faster, grabbing his hand without hesitation. He swung me around. I laughed wildly, throwing my head back in abandon, joy exploding from me.
'What happened to me?' The thought echoed in my mind as I crawled to the sink. Searching.
I adjusted my easel, preparing to paint.
"Paint me like one of your little French girls," a 15-year-old Kai requested, diving onto my pullout couch.
Vaeh and I shared a look. I smiled, picking up a brush. "Okay, pick a pose and stay still."
He threw his head back, dramatically resting the back of his hand against his forehead. I covered my mouth in an attempt to cover my snicker.
"Perfect. Okay, now don't move," I instructed him.
Vaeh handed me an earbud and put her phone on the easel between us. Netflix flashed on the screen.
"How's the view?" Kai asked from the couch.
I hunched over, trying not to laugh.
"It's perfect," Nevaeh told him, winking at me.
I pulled myself up, looking in the mirror at my foreign reflection. Bruised face. Dead eyes. Hollow cheeks. "What happened..."
"Hey, Julez," I called from the couch.
"Sarayah, if this is another pun, I'm gonna kill you." He warned from the kitchen.
"It's not a pun! I just wanted to tell you about this crazy dream I had, but if you don't wanna hear it..."
"No, I do! What happened?"
I fought off a smile. "Well, I dreamed I was swimming in an ocean of orange soda."
"Huh. That is weird."
"Yeah," I continued, trying not to laugh. "But it turns out it was all just a...Fanta sea."
A few seconds passed. Then suddenly I was being pummeled with a pillow. I laughed hysterically, trying to grab at the fluffy weapon as Julez continued his attack.
'...to me?' I looked down at the scattered pills in front of me. Each one a sweet promise.
"MAMA!" I screamed, reaching towards the door. I stared over Chris's shoulder, hoping she'd burst in. That someone would help. Anyone. But they didn't. And then it was too late.
"What happened to me? What happened to me?"
A tear slid down my face, splattering on the counter. Too late. I'd realized too late. I'd tried too late. I'd come back too late.
He should've shot me. He should've just killed me.
Because that night, in that room...
I scooped the fallen pills into my palm. I shoved them into my mouth, grabbed the glass of water and downed them.
What happened to me?
I sunk to the floor, my head lolling forward.
I died.
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Ugh, guys. I know. I know. I am so embarrassed. You don't need to secretly think it. I'm acknowledging it. This was confusing and it was COMPLETE and utter TRASH but I promise I tried SO HARD. FOR SO LONG. It just wasn't working out. And I'm over it. OVER IT, DO YOU HEAR ME! Idec anymore 😭 So...here 💩
I wish that poop looked less cute.
Ok byeeee ✌🏽