The Dark Journey - Chapter 2: The Razor's Edge

[The Ravyn]

[ 04-23-2002: Message edited by: The Ravyn ]</p>

looks like i deleted it all on april 23rd 2002 huh? has it really been almost two years????

I suppose I should start this off with a strong warning about subject matter and content. This is a story of childhood sexual abuse, rape, drugs, prostitution, homelessness, slavery and ... eventually ... freedom.


I can't believe it
how could it be
I am here
I tried so hard to leave
I did my best
the edge was sharp
the pain was great
life spilling out
on the bed
no hope
no where to turn
I thought it was done
now I am here
and he is here
and we are here
god help me
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have to admit that my attitude was very poor, my depression deepened weekly as my life became more and more of a nightmare. By the time I was 15 I was pretty much ready to die, mostly due to the abortion he had made me go through earlier that summer. I just wanted to give up on everything after that. Mom seemed oblivious to what I was going through, but I guess she had lots on her mind other than me. I wanted so badly to tell her the real reason for my moodiness but all I could think about was his grinning face as he told me, time after time, what kind of tortures and slow agonizing deaths he would devise for me, or for David and Annie. That was the worst. I felt like I held their lives in the balance, and if I made one mistake, he would hurt them.

It had gotten to the point where just a certain look from him, a certain tilt of his head or hand gesture could instill terror into my heart. I knew I couldn't go on much longer like this, and if and when I did tell, that would be the end of everything I loved. I felt I had no way of extricating myself from this net that I was caught up in and I sank lower and lower into the depths of despair.

I had been getting into more and more fights at school, both with other girls and with boys. I had a reputation of being a ruthless fighter. I rarely lost. Not that losing a fight mattered to me. I fought to let out my anger and humiliation, all the suppressed emotion eating me up inside that I could never share with another soul. The school counselors tried to wheedle the reasons for my behavior out of me, but I evaded their probings handily. I was becoming a very accomplished liar in the process of everything else. I made myself sick. I hated who I was becoming. I lashed out at anyone who so much as looked at me wrong.

Finally, I made my decision. I would end my own life, therefore freeing the rest of my family from any harm that might come to them if I finally slipped and told anyone about my situation. I thought about it for days: how I would accomplish it, when, where. I knew that pills were a hit or miss option, and that having one's stomach pumped was no pleasant experience. I had heard stories about that enough times. There were no handguns in the house, so that was out. Hanging myself didn't appeal to me at all, and besides, I had never been any good at tying knots.

While rummaging through Mark's tool box in the garage one evening looking for a small, flat blade screwdriver for my mother, I found a paint scraper. I examined it for several minutes, moving the blade out and then back in. It had a slot that you could insert or remove the one sided razor blade. Also in the same drawer was a small container of blades that fit the scraper. I took two of the cardboard encased blades from the container, slipped them into my pocket, and continued my search for the screwdriver.

For the following week I got into the habit of examining the blades I had pilfered, admiring the strength of the oh-so-thin metal, the sharpness of the edge, the way they shined in the light. My depression lifted more with each passing day and my mother seemed to see this as a good sign and breathed a mental sigh of relief whenever she would observe me laughing and talking gaily, animatedly, with David or playing some little game with Annie. Things I had not done in a very long time. Even the nightly visits by Mark seemed to be less humiliating and painful, more of a minor annoyance.

On Saturday, September the 19th, 1992, as my mother was putting together the evening meal, David and Annie played in the back yard, and Mark sipped his Gin and Tonic and watched baseball, I sat in my room with the door tightly closed and examined the blade for the last time. I thought about all the things that this would rectify. The hurt that I would no longer feel. The danger to my family that would be averted. I knew in my heart that this was the only viable solution to the problems.

I said a silent prayer, set the blade to my left wrist and pressed it firmly into my flesh. I let out a small shriek as I pulled the blade diagonally across my wrist, then I switched hands and did the same to the right one. I didn't hear my mother come into the room, but when she began screaming for Mark to get in here and help her, I looked up at her and told her it was going to be ok now, everything would be ok. She stood frozen in front of me until Mark shoved her roughly aside, pulled off his belt and wrapped it around my upper left arm, pulling it as tight as he could. He told my mother to hold it there and ran down the hall, returning shortly with another belt for my right arm.

He took hold of both belts and yelled at my mother to call 911. When she simply stood staring down at me, he kicked her leg and told her to 'Move God-damn you!!!' She moved. After she had left the room Mark began telling me what a stupid little bitch I was. How could I put my mother through this sort of torture? Was I so selfish that I had no love for her or my siblings? When it was time for me to die, HE would be the one to do it, not me!

His face seemed to fade and his voice receded into a dim, incoherent babble as consciousness slowly left me and the darkness I so desired came forth to envelope me in its cold embrace.

[deviouspuppet]

Amazing... you have made this so real...again I'm waiting for the next chapter... [img]images/smiles/icon_cool.gif[/img]

[The Ravyn]

apparently i hadn't deleted everything the last time ...

[Miyu]

I didn't want to reply to every chapter you post ravyn, but i couldn't help it. this is such amazing work...you leave me in awe after every chapter. i'm speechless...such a sad chapter

miyu

[JukotoxKanashimi]

your courage surprises me at posting this. It's a great story of teenage angst and can help teens in realizing that suicide is not a way. Great work Ravyn i await for more....