Self-Inflicted Wounds, Part I
"Now that he's gone, I can clear my head," she thought.
She looked down at her fingers that only hours ago had touched his face, his lips, his beard, no longer feeling the electricity that sparked beneath them when her skin grazed his. They were empty now--powerless, but when he was in front of her, she could start a fire with the sparks between them. They were hot. There was passion. They were breathless.
They met at church when they were ten. Now, this wasn't any ordinary church. This church was actually kinda cool to the kids. It was a sort of subsidiary church for area youth without access to Christian services through their parents. The main sanctuary was across the street for regular family attendees, but there were services in the Christian academy held for children of parents who didn't regularly attend. Almost every Sunday since she was five she had gone faithfully. It was where she learned her favorite Bible songs, she got saved for the first time, and she learned most of everything she knew about Jesus. The only thing her parents ever did religiously was drink and fight. In that church, she learned to pray for them and their deliverance.
She had been focused on the healing of her parents the most. At home she was almost always devastated with their drinking and fighting--it got pretty bad pretty regularly. Sometimes managing to get up and be ready by the time the church bus arrived Sunday morning was the hardest thing she could do because she had been up til five a.m. helping to sneak her naked mother back into the house after her father drunkenly beat her, threw her out, then passed out. Bus church, like school, was a vacation. A home away from home. A reprieve.
They were friends. They sang songs about Jesus together, but she didn't actually notice-notice him until they were twelve. By then hormones were almost raging and she felt flush around him because he was so damn cute. He was so damn cute. His bronze skin was smooth like butter and his eyes were bright like sparklers in the dark on the Fourth of July when he smiled. His smile. Her heart fluttered when she thought of it. Her heart skipped beats regularly whenever he smiled. His teeth were bright and white, straight and fit perfectly inside of his soft, brown lips. His lips looked like they were expertly shaped by Hershey themselves, full and soft, and turned up in the corners like a raised velvet theatre curtain. When she went home every Sunday she went to her room, laid in bed and held her teddy bears thinking of him and smiling, remembering his laugh. He was perfect.
They talked about everything. He listened to her struggles with her parents' alcoholism and domestic violence. He offered her a shoulder to cry on. He didn't judge her or look at her like she was damaged, and she liked that. It was easy to get lost in his face. When they finally exchanged numbers she was relieved. She knew her dad would never let her talk to boys on the phone, but he was worth the risk. Dad wasn't home all the time.
And she did risk it. They spent hours on the phone at a time talking about nothing and talking about everything. From music to their favorite TV shows, sometimes they'd sit and watch MTV for hours while he'd say nothing and just listen to her sing her favorite songs. She liked it. A lot.
The only time she was able to see him was on Sundays at church. They went to different schools in the city during the day, and that killed her. The boys in her school were immature and teased her constantly about everything--from her frizzy hair to her butt, thighs and her little tummy pudge. She hated the boys at school, but when she got home she could call him and all of the other mess was over.
Once after school she invited some friends over while her parents weren't home. They both had just retired so they were taking night classes at the local community college. She knew she wasn't supposed to have people over when her parents weren't home, but she was lonely and wanted to make friends with somebody close by. She boiled some hot dogs and made a spread, but people were mainly just hanging out looking around the house. It was too much for her to handle too fast, and she finally got them out of the house and tried to clean up. She almost got away with it, but someone stole one of her father's huge 1980's camcorders during a distraction. She was in big trouble. He screamed at her. She had to confess about the friends being over. The police came to her house so her father could report his camcorder stolen, he accused her of setting up the robbery and deleted her passcode to the security system. The responding detective refused to charge her for the missing camcorder. She was no longer allowed to be home alone.
For the next two years, after school she'd come home to her dad watching Judge Joe or People's Court. You couldn't tell him he didn't graduate from law school. She hated those damn court TV shows for the rest of her life.
Summertime was her favorite time because that meant she got a break from the drunken asshole. Every day he'd drop her off at her god mom's house while he went to work, or sometimes she'd just spend the night for weeks at a time--those were her favorites. She told her god mom about everything. She wasn't allowed to talk to boys on the phone at home, but Mama & Daddy (her godfather) let her. Her biological parents weren't her parents at all, they were Yes Ma'am/No Sir. She and Mama were so close, and she loved that she was allowed to be herself around her. She'd even cry to her and tell her how much she hated her parents, but Mama didn't judge her for it. When they talked on the phone, they weren't doing anything bad, she was always being watched, especially by her little brother, so the reins were pretty loose. She called him every chance she could. He was, after all, her boyfriend now.
They were in love. She loved being in love with him. He was kind, attentive, and thoughtful. He asked her how she was doing, what she ate that day, what her dreams were. They'd sit on the phone, eight hours at a time, every chance they could. She hated days when Mama had appointments because that meant no telephone calls until they got back home. Her heart ached when she couldn't hear his voice in her ear, but as soon as she got back to Mama's first thing she'd do was pick up the cordless phone and dial his number. He was her peace.
She looked down at her fingers that only hours ago had touched his face, his lips, his beard, no longer feeling the electricity that sparked beneath them when her skin grazed his. They were empty now--powerless, but when he was in front of her, she could start a fire with the sparks between them. They were hot. There was passion. They were breathless.
They met at church when they were ten. Now, this wasn't any ordinary church. This church was actually kinda cool to the kids. It was a sort of subsidiary church for area youth without access to Christian services through their parents. The main sanctuary was across the street for regular family attendees, but there were services in the Christian academy held for children of parents who didn't regularly attend. Almost every Sunday since she was five she had gone faithfully. It was where she learned her favorite Bible songs, she got saved for the first time, and she learned most of everything she knew about Jesus. The only thing her parents ever did religiously was drink and fight. In that church, she learned to pray for them and their deliverance.
She had been focused on the healing of her parents the most. At home she was almost always devastated with their drinking and fighting--it got pretty bad pretty regularly. Sometimes managing to get up and be ready by the time the church bus arrived Sunday morning was the hardest thing she could do because she had been up til five a.m. helping to sneak her naked mother back into the house after her father drunkenly beat her, threw her out, then passed out. Bus church, like school, was a vacation. A home away from home. A reprieve.
They were friends. They sang songs about Jesus together, but she didn't actually notice-notice him until they were twelve. By then hormones were almost raging and she felt flush around him because he was so damn cute. He was so damn cute. His bronze skin was smooth like butter and his eyes were bright like sparklers in the dark on the Fourth of July when he smiled. His smile. Her heart fluttered when she thought of it. Her heart skipped beats regularly whenever he smiled. His teeth were bright and white, straight and fit perfectly inside of his soft, brown lips. His lips looked like they were expertly shaped by Hershey themselves, full and soft, and turned up in the corners like a raised velvet theatre curtain. When she went home every Sunday she went to her room, laid in bed and held her teddy bears thinking of him and smiling, remembering his laugh. He was perfect.
They talked about everything. He listened to her struggles with her parents' alcoholism and domestic violence. He offered her a shoulder to cry on. He didn't judge her or look at her like she was damaged, and she liked that. It was easy to get lost in his face. When they finally exchanged numbers she was relieved. She knew her dad would never let her talk to boys on the phone, but he was worth the risk. Dad wasn't home all the time.
And she did risk it. They spent hours on the phone at a time talking about nothing and talking about everything. From music to their favorite TV shows, sometimes they'd sit and watch MTV for hours while he'd say nothing and just listen to her sing her favorite songs. She liked it. A lot.
The only time she was able to see him was on Sundays at church. They went to different schools in the city during the day, and that killed her. The boys in her school were immature and teased her constantly about everything--from her frizzy hair to her butt, thighs and her little tummy pudge. She hated the boys at school, but when she got home she could call him and all of the other mess was over.
Once after school she invited some friends over while her parents weren't home. They both had just retired so they were taking night classes at the local community college. She knew she wasn't supposed to have people over when her parents weren't home, but she was lonely and wanted to make friends with somebody close by. She boiled some hot dogs and made a spread, but people were mainly just hanging out looking around the house. It was too much for her to handle too fast, and she finally got them out of the house and tried to clean up. She almost got away with it, but someone stole one of her father's huge 1980's camcorders during a distraction. She was in big trouble. He screamed at her. She had to confess about the friends being over. The police came to her house so her father could report his camcorder stolen, he accused her of setting up the robbery and deleted her passcode to the security system. The responding detective refused to charge her for the missing camcorder. She was no longer allowed to be home alone.
For the next two years, after school she'd come home to her dad watching Judge Joe or People's Court. You couldn't tell him he didn't graduate from law school. She hated those damn court TV shows for the rest of her life.
Summertime was her favorite time because that meant she got a break from the drunken asshole. Every day he'd drop her off at her god mom's house while he went to work, or sometimes she'd just spend the night for weeks at a time--those were her favorites. She told her god mom about everything. She wasn't allowed to talk to boys on the phone at home, but Mama & Daddy (her godfather) let her. Her biological parents weren't her parents at all, they were Yes Ma'am/No Sir. She and Mama were so close, and she loved that she was allowed to be herself around her. She'd even cry to her and tell her how much she hated her parents, but Mama didn't judge her for it. When they talked on the phone, they weren't doing anything bad, she was always being watched, especially by her little brother, so the reins were pretty loose. She called him every chance she could. He was, after all, her boyfriend now.
They were in love. She loved being in love with him. He was kind, attentive, and thoughtful. He asked her how she was doing, what she ate that day, what her dreams were. They'd sit on the phone, eight hours at a time, every chance they could. She hated days when Mama had appointments because that meant no telephone calls until they got back home. Her heart ached when she couldn't hear his voice in her ear, but as soon as she got back to Mama's first thing she'd do was pick up the cordless phone and dial his number. He was her peace.
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