Rebel Rebel

When I turned 15 I gave up on everything.  I knew I wouldn't be worthy enough of my mother's respect.  My dad was completely out of my life at the time.  My brother was constantly in juvenile detention. You know, because our father has zero structure. There wasn't much My mom could do about that.  She had tried very hard to get my brother to move back but he refused over and over again. I'm sure now maybe he wishes he had.  It would've probably been easier to just suffer the ridiculous rules and constantly being grounded for breathing wrong than to keep winding up in detention. I wish I knew the struggles of my brother but I don't.  I was trying to make it out alive too. All I kept telling myself was, just hold till your 18th birthday.  You can do this.  You can leave and never look back. You can break the chains that have been weighing so damn heavy. You can stop carrying the load you've been meaning to drop. You can think of all the possibilities of the things I might be capable of.  

      But sometimes, there were the days that I was barely holding my head above water. When my mom and I fought I turned into this raging monster. I was loud, scared, full of hatred, and ranging anger. My mom was scared of me and I don't blame her but what she did was worse. She was so scared of me that she thought calling the police would be better. The police came to our home frequently.  I was so scared at first because I didn't do anything wrong. I was just angry and I wasn't allowed to be. How else am I supposed to react when I'm being accused? How am I supposed to react when my privacy is being invaded? How am I supposed to react when the thing I was desperately looking forward to, my mom purposely does something to aggravate me and tell me I'm grounded and can't go? Everything was about control. Everything about my young adolescent life was all about control. I literally could do nothing about it. I don't even know what things I was praised for. Remember, I'm not doing good in school and being as perfect as can be in church isn't working, so what are my options then? I threatened to cut myself with the biggest kitchen knife I could find. That's when my mom starts calling the cops. I didn't do it every time but most of the time. I knew it would hurt like hell and I'm not really one who gets hurt. I hate getting cut while shaving so actually cutting myself on purpose seemed like a good idea but also really freakin stupid. We didn't have any other resources of the easy way out at home. Taking in a bunch of pills wasn't a thought ever. I didn't think about taking this route myself. I asked God daily to do it for me. I prayed for God to kill me. I wanted to die but didn't want to do it myself. I wanted to drown but remember,  I don't like the water. I wanted to die but not feel it. I wanted to be numb to the pain of it because I was already hurting. It's as if I was just a criminal in my parents lives. I am constantly committing a crime and I needed to be locked away forever or 6 feet under. Never to be seen again. 

     The cops never did anything. I was never arrested in my life. My mom put me in Youth At Risk in Tacoma WA. I had a probation officer and went to court for the things I was doing. When I was 16 I really spiraled. I was underage drinking with strangers. I snuck out all the time. I started to skip school. It was easy because my mom was a teacher and left before me. She doesn't see me get on the bus. Im pretty sure the last time she did was when I was kindergarten. I lived on a small street. I didn't know everyone but we knew of each other. I think we all knew each other's routines at least. I would come home around 2 in the morning drunk as a pirate. I'm really really surprised I didn't get alcohol poisoning or hospitalized. My mom poured cups of water on me and it didn't work. I also started getting high. I smoked after school everyday. My neighbor across the street was a new friend. Not a good one but I didn't care. I just wanted to escape my harsh reality. It was so much easier to pretend to be someone I wasn't. I was already used to it by now. 

     My brother ended up living with us when I was just at the beginning of my rebellious stage. He blames me even now for me introducing him into alcohol and weed but he admitted many many times he did it way before he moved back. I really didn't care. I was like, this is what I'm doing and I'm going to do it. If you want to do it great. If not, also great. Just please don't tell mom. This was also during the time when weed wasn't legal. I never knew my neighbors behind our house but then somehow my mom got a complaint that it smells like weed and it was specifically coming from our home. Again, nothing happened but my brother got me in more trouble than I was doing myself. My brother was not smart. He didn't think. Yes I got in trouble all the time but I had a strategy and I stuck to a routine.  My brother destroyed my routine. He was sloppy, dangerous, annoying, and my biggest bully. He would ambush me in hallways at school and beat me when everyone was getting to class. He would point at me while calling me names and getting his friends to laugh at me.  My brother was just as bad as my dad. He wanted to be the center of attention and he did anything to get it.  My brother eventually got bored and left. I begged him not to go because I truly loved him. I was finally not physically alone. I had missed about 3 years being away from my brother. He was different. He grew up in a way but still a child. I knew we would eventually grow apart and live very different lives. 

After my brother left I decided that I wanted to change. I had just lost my viginity to an 20 year old. The house I went to might as well have been a Crack house and honestly looking back, maybe it was.  These people were dangerous. The father in the home invited me to bed with him. He touched me. He felt everything. My body was no longer my own. I was desperately trying to breathe but I couldn't. I couldn't even get away. I had waited what seemed like forever before he let me go. The son in the home took me on a joy ride one night in his car.  He was a speeder. I have my reasons now why I have a spit-shine record and I would like to keep it that way.  He took me to this park and it was not just any park it was like a very woodsy type park. I had seen this park before but it was not so big and scary during the day.  The son picked up some men.  I had never seen them before but they looked at me like they had scored a big grand prize. I knew this night wasn't ending any time soon.  We headed back to the house and it was the longest car ride. One of them held on to my thigh the entire ride back. I can't remember what I was wearing. I wasn't wearing any short skirts. I wasn't allowed to wear those. I was completely covered. Believe us when we say that it doesn't matter what you wear. If they want you, they will get you. 

When we got to the house finally,  they all stumbled in through the back. They offered me many shots of vodka which turned into just me drinking from the bottle. I didn't want to feel any of the shit that was about to happen to me.  I knew the night was still young and they were making sure I wasn't going anywhere.  I still get flashbacks from this memory because it's still very fuzzy. I know I had somehow got on the floor of a room. It wasn't like a bedroom type of room because this room was straight up empty. The men and I were naked. I don't know what this guy's deal was but when he was on me, he wasn't in me like he thought he was. He was hurting me with how fast he was going and he was dripping sweat all over my face. I tried looking away but he wanted me looking right into his eyes. He wanted this memory to burn in every part of my body. When he thought he was done he said "if you get pregnant, it's not mine." The next guy wanted me to just stand right above him. Naked and sweaty. I was physically disgusting. I just wanted to go home and shower but this night was far from over.  The man just wanted me to tower over him while he touched every inch of my body. I started to cry. I wanted to go home. I wanted to tell my mom everything. I didn't want this life. I wanted to be good. I wanted to repent of my sins. I wanted my mom to be proud of me one day. I wanted to be anywhere but there. Well I thought the night was finally over when the son when to come get me from this nightmare but that was not the case. He took me to a different room. This room was his room. I have never been in it but I knew. The smell of the room smelt just like him. He took his clothes off and grabbed me and gently put me on the bed. I saw all of him and he saw all of me. He put his hand over my mouth and he pounded until he was in all the way. Once he was I muffled a scream.  I screamed so loud it hurt. I don't like pain and this hurt so much. After this was over I was finally able to walk home.  They were across the street so I didn't have much of walk home. I cried so much. I climbed the chained link fence. My dog that was never trained properly, lunged at me and jumped all over me while I ran to the sliding back door. I shoved her away and got in the house. Our sliding back door was old. It was loud no matter how slow you opened it. I stumbled into my room and drowned in my drunken tears. I wish I never went over there that night. If I wanted God to kill me before I thought this was his way of telling me I should've obeyed my mother. Was I supposed to be out? Was I supposed to be drinking? If I would've been reading my scriptures I would know the I needed to keep my body pure. I would've known how to treat my body like a temple. How am I supposed to do that? The temple is the purest of white. I would never be that pure.