As Inspired by Sia’s “Chandelier”
“You’re heading nowhere! You’re a loser! A failure!” My stepfather yelled at me.
My grades that term were very bad. The highest I made was a D. Academically, I wasn’t too sound. I was an average student but things turned upside down when my stepfather started sleeping with me. First, he raped me! I lost focus! I lost everything!
My father died when I was fourteen. The following year, my mother got married to another man. He was younger than she was but he was stinkily rich. His money was what my mother was after.
Few months after their wedding ceremony, he made advances to me. My mother wouldn’t have believed me if I had told her. She didn’t trust me, she thought I killed my father. I was just fourteen, why would I kill my father?
That evening, I made tea for my father and that same evening, he died on his bed. Autopsy revealed nothing. I didn’t poison my father, I didn’t kill him! Once, when I was younger, I had overheard them having a talk that I would be the one to kill him, according to the words of some lying prophet. That was it! Mother held on to it and the day father died, it was a confirmation.
I went to my room and cried out my eyes. My stepfather’s words hit me over and over again. I cried more because my mother was right there and she said nothing.
Years went by. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I held it all within me. It hurt more because my stepfather was also abusing my mother sexually and I could do nothing about it! She wanted a good and comfortable life but should she get it in agony? Should she?
I could hold on no more so I killed my stepfather and ran away as far as I could. I didn’t want my mother’s trust anymore, I knew I had lost it forever. I just wanted her to have back her sanity.
I turned a party girl, I became an alcohol addict. It was then I understood why some men get drunk often. I had to ease my pains, I didn’t want to feel anything. I knew I was taking in too much alcohol but I didn’t want to learn to know the truth I already knew–although my glass was always full, I was empty!
• • •
A knock woke me up that morning. I came home at midnight from a party, drunk. I was a mess. The stench of alcohol was all over my dress. On a daily basis, I’d leave where I lived very early. I never wanted anyone to know me. Would I say I was ashamed of myself? There was no way I could get out, the sun was up already.
I helped myself with a glass of alcohol before answering the door.
“Hi Judith,” Jude said with a smile. He saw me once at a party and told me his name. I wasn’t friendly that night to him so we had no long conversation. He found out we both lived on the same street and ever since, he’d been a pain in my ass.
“Hi”, I answered coldly. I was trying to figure out why he had a cake in his hands.
“Happy birthday”
I arched one brow. “Birthday?”
“I found it on your Facebook account.” I didn’t remember giving out my username.
“Sell the goddamn cake and get me a bottle of alcohol,” I said, rolled my eyes and slammed the door.
I actually didn’t remember it was my birthday, I never wanted to remember. What was the point? My life wasn’t worth celebrating, was it?
I was twenty five. There was nothing to show for it except the complementary cards of men old enough to be my father, inviting me to come over after their first adventurous sexual experience with me– I slept around for a living; and empty bottles of alcohol in my drawers and underneath my bed.
My three cell phones were ringing. Calls were coming in, messages were rolling in. I felt people still loved me, distant friends and well wishers. The least I wanted then was love. I wanted more alcohol just so the old hurting memories of the past years would fade away.
I walked to my dresser with tears in my eyes and grabbed a bottle of alcohol.
The first shot, one…two…three, I drank.
The second shot, one…two…three, I drank.
The third shot, one…two…three, I drank.
I took more shots until I lost count and passed out.
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