Page 5

Wherever There Is…

“We all dream. Fortunately for many, they remain in their inner consciousness, never spilling over into one’s life. For me, no mornings are safe, no nights to be spared. Luckily for me, within my frown there is forever a smile looking back at me.”

—Ivy, age 12, back in the 90s

I t’s about eight forty-five; I’m one of the last ones here working on staff form for our upcoming demo performance and competition.

My father’s voice penetrates my ears from across the room.

Chills churn up my spine as the look on his face tells me all I need to know.

They hit me like daggers from across the blue carpet with red lines, perfectly placed vertically from me to him.

I watch him and Sensei head back into Studio C.

One look is all it takes for me to be fully aware my world is about to flip upside down, and I will soon be back on the roller coaster called my childhood outside these walls.

Taking a deep breath in, I close my eyes releasing it, beginning my mental preparation for the car ride home and the argument I know will soon follow between my father and I.

Rounding up my weapons, I head to my locker.

I’m at war with my body fighting like hell to hold back the tears burning my eyelids like someone is holding a torch to my retinas.

Taking another deep breath, I still my face like stone, keeping them slow and steady, fighting like hell not to allow a single one to spill over at the risk of someone seeing.

Nobody must ever know, nobody must ever know, pain is weakness, and compassion is strength.

Worse than what happens when I disappear is the idea of people knowing.

Luckily, nobody has found out yet—not even T.

I’ll be damned if they ever do, if he ever does.

I was raised to endure pain and trained to never let the enemy see fear.

For me, everyone in my life is the enemy.

For anyone knowing what my life is truly like is ammunition, one I will never hand over to someone willingly.

It is the only weapon that can break me.

Reeling my emotions in, I stand tall, proceeding to my locker, nodding at Elijah as I pass him.

Opening it, I place all my weapons in, grabbing all my things, my clothes, my hygiene kit, and my most personal items of all, my football folded letters from Tayden.

Loading them into my backpack, I slide on my flip-flops, heading to find Sensei and my father.

Turning the corner, I look over to them, backpack on my shoulder, rage in my eyes, and defeat in my heart as I release a breath.

“Sir,”

I breathily gasp, nodding in their direction, acknowledging their conversation.

The look on his face says it all, but he does just as he trained me all these years—stand tall and show no emotion.

But I see it in his eyes; he loves me, and he doesn’t understand any of this, for my father wouldn’t dare give him the full truth, nor could he ever, not without throwing himself under a catastrophic bus.

One I’m sure he’d bury my father under if he ever found out.

The thought brings me a piece of solace in this horrible moment.

I’m not sure I could handle the only man I’ve ever looked up to and trusted wholeheartedly, knowing the ins and outs of my life no matter how much I want to cry out to him for help.

My father looks at me with tear-filled eyes he probably had to work overtime to create.

Standing strong, I focus my eyes on him, away from Sensei, for when I look at my father, I fill with rage, and in this moment, more than anything, I need to get the fuck out of here before I crack in front of the man I never want to see it.

“Let’s do the dance, Dad,”

I say to him, my tone filled with disgust, my heart shattering, knowing what hell awaits me on the other side of his passenger door. I say no goodbyes, for that would only make things harder as we head to the car. Staring down at the white rocks, using their sounds as a calming mechanism as they tumble beneath my feet, crossing through the parking lot to his all too beautiful black Lexus that makes him believe he is creating this image of wealth, but let’s be honest, Grandma has the money, not us.

How can this be? Fucking Jessica. I’m going to kill her, scratch that, I’m going to kill my father. How the fuck am I going to get out of this? I can’t do this again. I am so fucking tired, fuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkk.

Slamming the door shut, I pull on the seat belt so aggressively I overextend it, causing it to lock on me. Fucking great. Releasing it, for it to real back in, it slams into the interior before I snap it back out, stretching it across me, clicking it in.

“Not sure why I’m buckling myself at this rate. The best thing that could happen is you throw us off a fucking bridge and just take me out already,”

I growl at my father.

“Really, Ivy, that’s exactly why you’re in this mess, your words and that anger,”

he responds.

“Ha, my fucking anger? Wouldn’t you be angry too if your parent locked you up for every indiscretion you ever made as a child? Fuck grounding, right? Just admit her into an insane asylum cause Grandma has the pockets for it, right, Dad? Fuck normal punishment, right?”

I question without even wanting a response. Tears break from my eyes, my voice cracking as the pitch rises to screams.

“It couldn’t possibly be your fault for this sharp tongue I have? Or the wives you’ve brought into our lives just to force them out, no concern for my relationship with them, or the constant back and forth together then not? No, Dad, that has nothing to do with it. I’m always caught in the fucking middle, fuck I am the middle. Fuck your own demons, right? The fact that you can’t control me and mold me is your fucking problem; you and everyone’s inability to take my words with dignity like real fucking grownups because their truth wrecks your inner narcissistic views of yourself. No, something must be wrong with me, but since there isn’t, let’s create the narrative because I have a fucking voice, because I know daddy’s little secrets. Fuck, I’m so tired of being railroaded by unstable adults in my life and blamed for their own issues. Yeah, Dad, no fucking reason I’m angry. Itcouldn’t possibly be that you don’t allow me to have friends and that you isolate me and control me, but go off, tell me what’s wrong with me now. Better yet, pay some quack thousands of dollars to torture me yet again because you can’t look in a goddamn mirror, and when you do, all you see is what you’ve done to me, what you’ve become. The monster that destroyed every fiber of my innocence!”

The pure rage, halting my cries.

“Jessica. What was that, Ivy? You can’t go around fighting girls in school every time they upset you,” he snaps.

“Oh, you want to talk about Jessica? Fine, let’s talk about her. She got what she deserved. She came up to me when I was minding my own business and slapped my drink and food out of my hand, queuing to me that she wanted it, so I thought I’d help and smashed it across her face. You know, trying to give her a taste.”

“It’s lunch, Ivy, not a justification to beat her with it. Her family could have pressed charges, and the trophy cases?”

“I don’t give a fuck, Dad. It wasn’t about the food; it was the principle, and she obviously wanted a fight, so she got one, more than she bargained for judging by her face. The trophy cases were just innocent bystanders, again, not my fault. I find it ironic that you literally put me in martial arts, you literally smoked me when I lost a fight, so I win one by record status, and you punish me. The fucking irony in your old ass is astounding.”Anger builds, and I can’t hold it in.

“And pressing charges? Do you really want to go there? With the demons you hide? I may have to suffer at the hands of your demons, forced to never fight back but don’t ever fucking ask me to take disrespect from someone else. I have taken six lifetimes of it from you already. I’ll be damned if I ever allow someone to step to me sideways ever.”

You fuck me like your wife, then expect me to follow the rules of a child, which is it, Dad? Who am I? Oh, you think the medicine makes me forget? We both know why I’m going back to yet another hell hole, and it’s not about Jessica. Far the fuck from it.

I cross my arms, huffing and puffing. Suddenly, I remember Tayden’s birthday party, and I know no matter how upset I am, I must bite my tongue and figure a way out of this.

“You better watch your mouth, little girl, ” he snaps.

I swear if any human on this earth ever calls me little girl once I’m free of him, it will be the last thing they ever fucking say before I cut their goddamn tongue out.

Think, think, think. Okay, so apologize, show remorse, accept responsibility, and tell him whatever he wants to hear. You cannot miss Tayden’s party.

“Okay, Dad, listen. I am so sorry, truly, you are right. I shouldn’t have handled myself that way. I will go to school and apologize. I’ll do extra chores around the house. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please don’t send me away again. I can’t take another place. I will do better. I promise. I beg of you to give me another chance; I don’t belong in those places.”

I plead with him, placing my hand on his no matter how much these words and his touch disgusts me to my core. I can’t miss Tayden’s birthday; he will be so heartbroken.I’ll be heartbroken.

“Ivy, I can’t. I’ve already called ahead, and I was lucky to get you a spot. It took a lot to make this happen. I have a good feeling about this place. I just want you to be happy and healthy.”

Yeah, happy and healthy, yet you’re the reason I am not.

“I go in tomorrow?”

I ask, fearful of his response.

“No, Monday, but you’re grounded until you go. I can’t risk you trying to run off again; plus, I want to spend time together before you leave, and I’m having a party Saturday.”

“Okay, Monday, great, but Dad, I need you to do me a favor, please. I beg of you. Tayden’s birthday party is this Sunday, and I can’t miss it. Please let me go, and I promise I will go without a fight this time, nor will I run off, and I will behave at the party. Please, if you love me at all, you will let me go,” I plead.

The silence is killing me, my mind conjuring up more barters I can devise when suddenly my father surprises me. “I will let you go, only because I know how much he means to you, but I will drop you off and pick you up, and do not say a word to anyone, or I will keep you there longer. Understand me, little girl ?”

His voice stern and fearless.

“Yes sir,”

is all I can respond before we both fall silent, nothing but the sound of the tires on the road as we approach the gated entrance of our community.

A tear falls from my eye as my hands fidget with each other, the sweat cascading like Niagara Falls, and all I want to do is crawl in my bed and hide forever, in Tayden’s words, his letters, because although I got Sunday, I want no part of Saturday.

I roll out of my covers, peeking out the window next to my bed.

I’m exhausted and sore thinking about a life outside these walls, frozen, stilled in my thoughts.

My head is foggy, I’m in pain, and my soul a little more chiseled away.

I sense the tears running down my face.

I’ve been awoken by another bad dream.

A reminder of what’s to come, come Monday.

How I even had time to dream with the little sleep I got is beyond me, but welcome to my brain.

Night terrors have consumed me for as long as I can remember.

Sometimes, I wish I dreamed of fairies and hobbits.

That my dreams were the one place I could escape all that is my life, but it never happens.

Most nights, I’m stuck reliving the same dream I dreamt the night before or six years before, a reel of terror on repeat.

Wiping the tears from my face, I stretch my arms, a smile coming to fruition on my face, the horrors of the last forty-eight hours whisked away because I remember it’s Sunday, which means I get to go to Tayden’s birthday party.

Forcing a shift in my mood, I race to my walk-in closet, set on finding the most perfect outfit and swimsuit for today.

I would have done it sooner, but my father and I haven’t been on speaking terms this weekend, per se, like usual, before I prepare to leave each time.

I know it’s his guilt, and I refuse to give him the resolve he seeks by me ok-ing his choices because they aren’t okay, they never will be, but my opinion doesn’t matter as I am a child with no legal regard to my own body, my own mind, or my own care.

I can’t help but believe that won’t be the case one day.

I’m just not sure it’s a destination I will ever reach, and if I do, what will be left of me then?

Brushing away my thoughts, pulling my shirt down over me, I close my bedroom door, heading down the spiral staircase, my hand brushing against the red oak-stained banister, making my way to the foyer of our home.

I used to find this place beautiful; it was once a hope of a happier future when we bought it.

It was my favorite place to play Clue.

I do love a good mystery, and I’m always Colonel Mustard.

Over time, it’s become the gates to my hell when I’m not in the other prisons of complete solitude when I return.

Turning round the banister as I reach the last step, I draw in a deep breath attempting to calm my nerves.

I’m unsure what version of my father I will converse with this morning, as I never really am; mostly, I’m fearful he changed his mind.

“Hey, Dad,”

I say, joining him in the kitchen, allowing him the courtesy of knowing I’m downstairs.

His back is turned to me, his broad shoulders resting in a crew-cut sweatshirt and athletic shorts as usual for a Sunday.

He stands 5’11”, tall like a baseball player yet built like a linebacker, his brown and silver hair ungelded, telling me he has just awoken recently if he even slept at all after.

Does he ever sleep after? Standing over the counter, he pours himself a cup of black coffee straight up.

Turning around, his eyes tired and broken, I struggle to look at him, fearful that all the hate I have for him will spill over.

When I see how broken he is, I can’t help but love him, feel for him, and want to hold him.

I know this is just my abuser bond, but I try to think I’m just a girl who loves her father regardless of what he does to me—to us.

I must be the bigger person, better than him, always kinder to him than he has been to me.

I like to convince myself we are just two lost humans trying to survive, but that explanation wears thin when you evaluate the reality; one a child, one a whole ass adult, and I only suffer with him because of him.

My mother isn’t off scot-free.

She’s the reason I’m even in this fucking boat.

Fuck, why can’t I have a normal family?

“Good morning, Ivy,”he says to me apprehensively, leaving words left unspoken.

“Tayden’s mom should be here soon. Thanks again for letting her pick me up instead of driving me,”

I exclaim, worried his mind may have changed, baiting him for reassurance.

“Yeah, Ivy, just don’t forget we have an agreement,”

he mutters lifting his world’s best dad coffee mug to his lips, slurping a sip, trying not to burn his lips.

Fuck, I hate him, all of him. I hope you fucking choke.

My eyes shift away from his gaze, a lump fully forms in my throat from the weight of his words. I fight the dryness in my mouth, over-eager tears stinging the back of my eyes. I’m so fucking relieved to be out of here for a few hours.

“Yeah, Dad, I know—”

The doorbell chimes, cutting me mid-sentence. I jet to it, excited to spend my last day of freedom with the boy I love, who has never, and could never, let me down or harm me—the boy with whom I matter.

“Hello, Mrs. Bergess,”

I say, opening the door. Her beauty is intimidating. I look around, not seeing Tayden. She acknowledges my concerns.

“He’s in the car.”

I turn to give my father a hug before I exit, rushing to buckle in next to him.

I hate hugging him, but rule number one: keep up with appearances, smile pose, smile pose.

Followed by rule number two: nobody must ever know.

Maybe I’ll grow up to be an actor or possibly work in the government as a spy.

Lord knows I’m already dead inside.

Break me bitches, I dare you. Oh, kill some random? Say less. God, I’m fucked.

Liliana and my father talk for a while, and although I know their conversation is more than likely about me, I have no concern in the matter.

As soon as the cold surrounds my body and Tayden’s arms are around me, I’m safe—at least for the next few hours, anyway.The car begins backing out, igniting a chill up my spine.

The feeling of relief and safety the car pulling out brings is refreshing.

I can breathe.

We don’t say much, just holding hands and making small talk about school, grades, and our future plans with his mom.

I’m just hoping I survive to my eighteenth birthday.

That’s my only dream in life right now, my only future goal.

Hell, thirty would be amazing; now that’s wishful fucking thinking, like me feeding his mom my UCLA aspirations.

Wearing my mask is truly a learned art form I’ve perfected over the years.

It’s sad but true.

For today, Tayden celebrates another year, their lives unphased, and I sit here acting like tomorrow I won’t disappear, and he will have no answers, a hole left in him, created by me.

Outside of karate and soccer, Tayden has always loved laser tag, so I was not surprised that’s where he chose to have his birthday.

I am the only girl though, and it makes me feel insecure being surrounded by all the boys.

I’m used to men, not who they were before they became them.

However, it was nice being the only girl worth inviting.

We mostly chased each other around, searching for a corner to share a kiss undetected by his friends.

Luckily for me, we found a few in between the chase.

Looking back and seeing him hot on my tail trying to catch me are the memories I want to hold onto forever.

It’s how kids should be at my age.

We arrive back at the Bergess’ Estate and it’s stunning.

I’ve never been to his home, and I try to take it all in as we pull in, but it’s certainly overwhelming.

I knew they had money, but this, this is generational wealth.

There’s a huge canopy made of marble, covered in vines, with perfectly placed patio furniture and a full outdoor kitchen resting underneath it.

The corners are draped with white fabric blowing in the wind.

Directly between that and the house is an Olympic-sized pool.

Okay, not really, but it’s all that comes to mind.

The other end of the pool rests just before the largest French doors I’ve ever seen.

I find it crazy that he comes from this kind of money, and his personality doesn’t spew an inkling of it, always treating everyone with kindness and respect, never flaunting his family’s money.

He truly is a fucking spade, and I’m a lucky girl for having that spade’s heart.

I’m insecure about my bathing suit.

Is it too much? Too little? I’m the only girl here, and my self-conscious emotions are trying to get the best of me, but watching him having the time of his life with his friends somehow calms me and takes away my fears.

The water is the perfect temperature; it feels like velvet across my freshly shaved legs.

Swimming to the diving board, I raise myself up out of the water, my palms face down on the stone, my head tilted back from the weight of the water as it races down my body returning back into its dwelling.

Walking over, I step onto the board, getting the attention of all the boys in the pool effortlessly, looking directly up at one, shooting him a smirk, my face soft, my eyes wide, entangling him in my thoughts.

One, two, three, bounce, double bounce for height, and I throw a one-and-a-half twist off the board into a seamless dive with minimal splash.

Oh, if Bryan could see me now.

I scurry to pull my bottoms and top back up before rising to the top of the water, expunging the water from my eyes. Looking directly at him, a laugh escapes me, and his face is exactly as I had hoped: endearing, surprised, genuine.

“Whoa, where did that come from, Ives?”

he questions, swimming towards me. The rays of the sun glistening through his water-filled jet-black hair as he runs his fingers through it.

“I mean, I am a girl of many surprises, T. I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

A smile fully elongating across my face, my confidence boiling to an all-time high.

“You are certainly that and so much more, Ivy Sage Rutledge.”

I nudge his shoulder with my hand playfully to avoid deep conversation. I know it should make me feel good, but it truly makes me uncomfortable. It’s a weird thing to crave something, then receive it and find no joy in it, like I do with kindness.

“Catch me if you can,’’ I shout, Tayden hot on my fins as I splash through the water.

The thud beating in my chest, loud in my ears as I splash through the water, eagerly hoping he catches me.

Suddenly, I feel his brisk hands on my waist, and although this pool is heated, they send shivers through my spine.

“You can run, but you can never hide,”

he says, turning me towards him. Our eyes lost in each other as he brushes my wet hair from my face. No words spoken, just a moment of understanding and endearment—we tend to have a lot of those. Tayden looks nervous, like he has something to say. I want to ask, but I don’t. Both of us just silently wade in the water, and for a moment, the world has melted around us.

“I have something I want to share with you. Follow me,”

he says, grabbing my hand pulling me towards the stairs. I follow as we both exit the pool.

Throwing me a towel, I catch it and begin wiping off the excess water dripping down my legs before wrapping it around me.

“Where are we going?”

I ask, curiosity entangling my thoughts.

“It’s a surprise. You’re not the only one allowed to have secrets, Ivy Sage Rutledge,”

he counters.

Pulling me into his home, dragging me through the halls, he stops us for a moment in front of a door.

“I can be mysterious too,”

he says, opening the door.

I look around, taking it all in.

His room.

I’ve always wondered what it looked like.

On the right sits his bed, with a soccer ball comforter draped over it—perfectly made.

A beautiful picture window rests across from the door looking out over the pool we just ran out of.

The view of the pristine green lawn behind it seems to go on forever.

Breathtaking.

To the left sits a long dresser; above it is a flat-screen TV, only people like his parents could afford.

A PlayStation and racing games stacked a mile high on top of his dresser, F1 and soccer posters hanging all around.

Tayden sits on the edge of his bed.

I can feel him watching me as I take in all that is him.

It’s so nice finally seeing the place he calls home.

Other than the park, our relationship is solely based at karate and school. An under breath laugh escapes me.

“Well, it certainly is you. Cars and soccer, with everything perfectly in its place.”

He straight faces me, pretending to be insulted by my attack on his OCD, but he’s not, and we both know it. Oh to be as organized as him.

“You love it”

confidently rolls off his tongue.

“Sooo….is me seeing your room the surprise?”

I am unsure why exactly he brought me up here, but I am taking it all in while I can. Happiness is my only emotion today since being with him. He curls a brow at me, his face smug and conceited, as he strolls to his dresser, rummaging through his drawer, pulling something out before heading back to me. I remain still and frozen in front of his window, nervous and unsure of what could be in it.

“Ivy, I know we are kids, and I’m well aware we have our whole lives ahead of us, but I got you this. It’s a promise that we will always be a part of each other’s lives, a promise to each other, a promise for forever.”

His hand begins shaking as he pulls the tin can metal ring from a black velvet box that I am certain it didn’t come in. My face turns sheet white, and my stomach churns because although I am happy, tomorrow races through my brain, and Tayden has no idea.

Poor fucking Tayden, poor me, poor us, forever ends tomorrow. Ends the moment I leave here today.

I reach my left hand out, allowing him to place it on my finger, my ring finger to be exact, because, to me, he is my forever. He owns that finger, and he will forever own my heart, no matter the waves that try to hold us under its ocean.

“I love it, T.”

I exhale, fighting back the sting burning my eyes, not saying too much because I know the moment I do, the tears will fall, and the word vomit I promised my father to keep hidden from all will gush out .

Run away with me, help me, I’m drowning, save me, love me forever.

All the things I want to say but can’t. I don’t want my story to be his; he deserves more. He deserves the innocence that a childhood should be. He deserves only the good parts of my life. He deserves this innocent memory to be exactly what he intended when he planned it.

Throwing my arms around him, I hug him tighter than I ever have, knowing it could be the last time I ever do. My heart cries in my chest.

“Thank you, T, truly it’s beautiful,”

I whisper against his skin as my face nestles in the curve of his neck, his arms pulling me in closer.

“I thought you might; you’re always so smiley, my smiley Ivy . Let’s head back down before everyone wonders where we are.”

“Yeah, just give me a moment, please?”

I request.

“See you in a few. Don’t take too long. I want more time before your dad picks you up. Tomorrow at karate seems so far away,”

he replies before pulling me back into him and placing a kiss on my lips so gently like he has a million times before.

Releasing my hand, he heads towards the door, keeping my stare until the tips of our fingers disconnect, and he is no longer in my view.

Fucking gutted, that’s how I feel, every ounce of happiness his gesture brought me being swallowed up inside by self-contempt.

Sadness and anger, God, the fucking anger surging through my veins right now is uncontainable.

He doesn’t know, but I do and fuck does that hurt.

I’m aware I always come back, but this time feels different.

This time feels forever.

I have all I’ve ever wanted in him, and it’s usually in those moments I have learned my destitution awaits me shortly thereafter, only this time it arrived early taking everything away from it.

A single tear greets my cheek, my breaths shallow and swift as a tightening in my chest that’s so foreign forms.

I release a single gasp of air, drawing in a larger one, before releasing it.

Pull it together; no room for tears on your last day, no room for error, nobody can know.

Take this moment for what it is; it’s beautiful.

Embrace it and hold onto it forever; he LOVES YOU, he always will.

You cannot break right now, Ivy, don’t fucking break.

His innocence, my driving force to pull myself together.

I take a look around his room, taking it all in one last time.

I plop down onto his bed, breathing in his scent, taking the moment I need to gather myself fully.

Wiping my eyes, I head towards the door, looking back briefly as I close it for my first and possibly last time.

Heading down the stairs, I check myself in the antique mirror hanging on the wall, his mother glaring back at me through it.

Her look is all I need to know that I’m not welcome but tolerated.

I smile at her nonetheless.

Turning the corner, I find the big French doors and rejoin everyone in the pool.

We spent the next few hours splashing around being kids, making sure to have a few moments for ourselves and sneaking a few underwater kisses.

The day is truly perfect.

Every moment in it I will remember for the rest of my life, at least, I hope so.

Startled by the sound of my father’s horn, I rush out of the pool, gathering my things.

Tayden comes up from behind, wrapping his arms around me before turning me, laying a kiss smack on my lips with zero concern for who sees, and I fucking love it.

Fuck you, Tayden’s mom, and fuck you, Dad.

Making my journey to hell, the most beautiful voice shouts to me.

“I love you, Ivy Sage Rutledge.”

“I love you too, Tayden Bergess,’’ I playfully yell back to him as I skip to my father’s car, giving him zero hint of my apprehension for the rest of my day to come.

“Ready, kiddo?”

my father asks closing the door to my coffin on wheels.

“Do I even have a choice? Are we leaving now? I haven’t packed yet,”

I reply, my excitement instantly switching to dread.

“No need, you don’t need anything where you are going, ”

Words I wish to never hear again, forever imprinted on my brain.

Exiting the driveway of what should be my future home, my hand touching the glass, the smiley face ring staring back at me as I peer past it at the one who gave it to me for every second left I possibly can. Holding onto every moment before I can see him no more, and he is simply a memory imprinted in my brain. A new scar etched into my shattered heart.

Goodbye, T. I love you more than you will ever know. Happy Birthday, I’m sorry Monday at karate never came.

Dear Diary,

Date: The day I wish I would’ve pulled the trigger :)

What a fucking day one.

The kids here are rough.

In all the places I have been, this one takes the cake.

I’m not sure this one is survivable.

I’m scared, like fucking terrified.

At least I am allowed paper and a pen under supervision.

Smart move after my entrance yesterday.

I’d probably fucking stab myself and end it all.

God, I am so fucking tired; I just want to give up.

I woke up this afternoon, my life completely ripped away from me once again, then two crazy chicks in the room next to me came in my room in the middle of the night and pissed in my closet all over my things.

The smell woke me once the medicine wore off.

I never needed to pee as badly as I did this afternoon after being knocked out for so long.

I headed into the bathroom and walked out to both of them, twins to be exact, Skyler it makes me want to vomit because what seems to be misunderstood by many is that scary movies are someone’s true nightmare.Today, they are once again mine.

I already know this is going to be harder than any place before if this is the kind of shit, no pun intended, on the first day.

Step one, make myself unsafe to have adjoining rooms with, create the behavior to force the narrative to get me assigned to solitary.

Crazy to believe just two days, ago I was with him, happy; even though I knew this was coming, the memories still sting.

How one’s world can completely go from perfection to disconnection is eerie.

What I would give to be back in his arms in his room, wearing my ring, safe and loved, laughing with friends and just being a kid.

I don’t think he’s ever realized he’s the only person who ever saw me.

Although I certainly did deter him from knowing otherwise.

My mom never saw me, miscarrying me a few years too late while her damage and choices imprinted on me further than my looks.

My father never saw me further than being a moldable child he could control, condition, and be angry with because I was the epitome of the biggest devil he had and will continue to ever face, all while loving me too much—or claiming to.

Our relationship is impure and built on chaos and lack of boundaries without resolve in the future.

I was never allowed to have friends to be seen by.

My own personal bodyguard made sure to destroy them the moment I attempted one.

He’d swoop in and irrigate them from my life with a simple phone call.

The psychiatrists and counselors could never see me because they were blinded by my father’s money that flowed so graciously at my own demise.

It pays more to treat a child who doesn’t need treatment than to help a child who is being murdered by her own father day in and day out.

God, he is so fucking good, but one day I will be better.

I don’t even think the padded walls can hear me as I cling to them, tearing at their fabrics, screaming at the top of my lungs as the man with the straight jacket and all too anxious nurse with a syringe, lunges for me, my screams filling the room, begging them to stop and listen to me, pleading frantically.

“I am not broken. I am being broken.”

My cries falling short as the needle enters my body, and once again, I am fighting the meds filling my veins. “Don’t fall asleep,”

I say to myself, feeling the itch of the jacket, my arms being threaded through the straps tightened one by one.

My eyes feeling heavy, I’m in overdrive, avoiding the drug induced sleep because, for someone like me, every moment of sleep is light years of terror, my dreams transcending into horror I can’t wake from, physically trapped, vocally screaming out from my bed in a realm of darkness.

Trauma purgatory, if you will, on replay with no one to wake me, unable to awaken myself.

Come morning, when the screams fade, I wake to relive my darkest fears in the awoken, world clinging to the last shred of hope that someone will help me eventually instead of further harming me.

Neither night nor day can I escape from the damage done by others.

So, what do I do? I wake each morning cold as stone inside, for to take it, you must become it; at what cost to me, I am uncertain, but it’s my only coping mechanism, and it’s my only hope of getting out of here.Be what they say, then taper it back to pretend you got better because being who I really am from day one doesn’t work.

They think you are pretending.

Fuck I’m tired of pretending to be crazy to get out.

It’s hard as fuck, it’s causing real issues within myself.

Not to mention these insane meds. Lines are blurring.

I am the only voice who hears me.

I am the only voice to keep me alive.

When the entire world tries to murder everyfiber of your existence, stripping away the good and replacing it with their own demons, the projections of their own twisted and cruel shortcomings, you can only depend on you.

Never forget that, Ivy, re-read it, and read it again.

Focus on Tayden.

He sees you, all of you, who you are, who you were, and who you should have been.

Cherish that Ivy, fucking take that like every time before and use it, remember it, and when you feel you are going too far into the dark on your search for the light, and you may get lost for good, use him, reach for him because he is there.

He’s never left you. FUUUUUCKKKKKKK God, I fucking hate you!

—Ivy-