Square One by, Fatha

A child's mind is vulnerable. They begin to form their sense of individuality at a young age. Experiencing a situation where they must constantly dissociate themselves to cope with pain can fractured their new found identity. Coping with the loss of a friend I would frequently choose to become different individuals with their own name, age, lifestyle and personality. I didn't want to stress about the outcome of losing my only friend so I had Adalyn help me socializing a new friend as a barricade for me recollecting the bad memory and the feeling of loneliness. But I blame myself for ever letting the incident happen and I have Eva remind me of it. She hates me and sadly I can't blame her. A part of me doesn't want the blame it was also creation of the sick world that took the life of a child and left another one broken: the kidnapper. He is as guilty as me. Jane knows this and her pessimism is always charismatic. But me? Who am I? To say I have my own introduction would be very faulty.

The incident was impossible to forget. It's fresh and vivid even after all this time. As a child the flashbacks would drive me insane with daily nightmares and anxiety attacks. But I couldn't do much. All I could do is just vision the shrieking screams from Caleb, the suddenness of the moment, and how weak I was and unable to do anything. I wonder if I yelled for help I might had a slight chance to save his life but I just stood there frozen and mute. From that day I become accustomed to pain. The feeling was glue and it cling to me as if it were another layer of my skin. I became numb. It was a thick blanket that engulfed my happiness, my childhood, and from those years I've been held captive by misery. When will it let me free or am I going to be this way my whole life?

During my teenage years the relationship I had with my mom was distant. We couldn’t communicate without having to get in an argument about my behavior or attitude.

“We should go to the doctors. Don’t you think?” she would sternly question.  

“No”.

“Why not? Will you stop responding to me in one word and speak properly?  ”

“You should not be concerned Alice. Your daughter is doing fine. Not a single doctor can fix how big of a mess she is.”

These conversations always shook her up. I would switch from speaking about myself to speaking in third person. But I was never aware how rudely or kind my moods were.

            “Alice!? Are you addressing me by my name?”

“Yes. What is wrong with that?”

“I am your mother! You must show me respect. I do not ever want to hear you call me by my name and I hope that is clear.  This conversation is over.”

“It’s not over until I say it’s over. Listen Alice that pathetic little daughter of yours may be obedient but I will do none of that soft. I make my own rules and stick to them whether you like it or not. So if I believe your daughter doesn’t need to be checked she won’t be. I will also continue to address you with whatever name I’d like. This conversation is now over. I will be in my room. Do not disturb.”

This kind of dialogue would torment my mother. I could hear faint whimpers and cries after Eva’s demanding and cold persona appeared. I would detect her staring intently at me but I pretended it was unnoticed. Curiosity would rise and I would wonder if she believes there is something she could have done differently or where did she go wrong. But my mother raised me well. I was the one who had no control and I would spend my life regretting the hurt I caused. My adolescence continued with me spending a lot of my time in my room and my alters causing a huge mess where ever I went.

            Throughout the years I began to find peace within the insanity of my life. The peace came from a serene and tranquil setting that over looked the ocean. While going on a family vacation I found myself wandering off to explore the new area with my parent’s car and I stumbled upon a breathtaking scenery of the ocean that was complimented by a massive field of grass. The land slowly sloped uphill until there was a steep drop. I would often run my fingers through the wet grass and let the crisp breeze tickle my warm skin. It was the first time I have ever felt something stronger than pain. The feeling is indescribable as words will not do justice. I visited the place as often as possible but reality would hit me and I would have to return home.             

            During my early adulthood I spend a lot of my time and energy thinking of my future or if I'll ever manage to create one. There wasn't a single profession that I would fit into nor did I have a passion. But Adalyn did and she wanted to become a vet. Eva wanted to become a critic and Jane wanted to become an environmentalist. These fields were distinct and I couldn’t do them all. My job and college interviews would turn disastrous. They told me I was unprofessional and they couldn't afford to have someone like me in their office or college. But what could I have done. Nothing. After all these interviews I gave up. Adalyn comforted telling me everything would work out. Eva laughed and snickered about my inability to do anything right. Jane reminded me that I couldn't spend the rest of my life relying on my parents. I began to reflect on my life, my future. I needed to do something. Anything? 

            The value of life is priceless. However just breathing itself doesn’t give its significance. I have realized after a hard reflection that I didn’t live. I was simply just surviving. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t have any ambitions, no one to live for and I don’t even have an identity or name to call my own. I came to a conclusion and I did do something. I wrote a simple ‘thank you’ on a blank piece of paper for my mom. I took the keys and began driving.        

The drive was longer than usual but I took my time visually savoring everything I can around me. I finally reached my destination and I strip myself off my clothes as I wanted to become one with Earth. The familiar cold air never fails to comfort me and I knew it supports my decision. I noticed that a few lilies were scattered around the field so I walked over and yanked one out. I began to stroll to the edge to get one last view of the ocean and I finally felt I had control over my own mind. With a small step I reached out for my freedom holding the flower close to my heart until I heard a faint scream of my name. Ana.  

*Years after Ana’s death a small garden of daffodils grew in the very spot where her heart molded with Earth. Daffodils symbolize new beginnings and that is what Ana created.*