Damaged

           Sometimes I watched movies and saw scenes where the person’s “whole life flashes before their eyes.” I’ve always wondered how someone could fit his or her entire life into one small flash. There was one instance a small crowded room where I finally understood.
           So much had happened with a short period of time. I was no longer a child, I was now responsible for my own actions and my own protection. It’s a harsh reality to realize that the people who are supposed to protect you are the ones you have to be the most afraid of. Who would have known? That little Asian girl who made good grades and never made as much of a ruckus as her brother, she was the one who was the most damaged.
           Damaged. It’s a strange way to describe a little girl. The same way you would describe a dropped can of corn. Damaged. That was me. I was more than damaged. I was torn, I was broken, I was scalped. My head was torn open, my innocence was stolen and blackish red fists of anger pounded into my exposed mind. I had no choice. I had to do this. I had to take care of myself. No one else was going to protect me, no one could. I was a small blur in their peripheral vision as they cruised past my brokenness. Maybe now they would notice.
           I remember rummaging through the bottles. The sound of empty plastic was very appropriate for my empty soul. I had no idea what they were, just that I needed a lot. I remember trying to make the most noise that I could (secretly hoping that someone would ask me what I was doing). Nope. Nothing. Not even a footstep on our creaky stairs. I even tried to walk back to my room slower than normal so that someone would hear me crying. Still nothing. I put my R&B Mix in my tape player (my go-to-tape for dramatics), sat down on the floor and spilled out the multi-covered “saviors” to my life. I almost threw up, but by this time my pain turned into anger. I even chewed some because I was so disgusted I wanted to taste what was happening.
           It’s a short movie after that, a “not that interested to stay awake” type of movie. Still, no flash of my life. I guess I didn’t feel worthy enough to have a flash. Just tiredness. I remember closing my eyes and letting my head rest on the wood floor. It was a slap in the face when I woke up to literal darkness in my own vomit and no one even noticed.