Me, Me, and You

Photo by Jeanine

** Warning! This text contains hate speech, explicit language and it presents a not so pleasant side of reality. The action is fictional and any resemblance with real places or characters is either coincidental or it is an artistic intention.

…

I’m 3 years old and it’s night. It’s very dark. I don’t know what these noises are in the house. It’s probably my mother and father. Are they arguing? Are they loving each other? I don’t understand. A door is slammed. I hear a creak coming from my wardrobe as if someone is trying to open it from the inside. I’m very scared. At first, I freeze and then I scream. Mother.

Why are you screaming like that? Why the hell are you screaming like that?

I begin to cry. I’m scared of the monster in my closet and I think I’m afraid of my mother.

I am slapped on my left cheek. I scream. I am slapped on my right cheek. I hide under my pillow and I cry in silence.

My mother leaves the room and I hear some doors slamming, and again I hear weird noises in the house. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m afraid to open my eyes. So I keep my eyes closed and finally I fall asleep.

Ever since then I’ve been afraid of the dark.

…

I am 7 and the teacher gives us a strange homework. She tells us to ask our parents how we came to be in this world. I wonder why she doesn't tell us? Is it different for each of us? It seems as if she’s ashamed like I am when I need to tell my mother to call my teacher to discuss something.

I get home and I start doing my homework. I leave the strange homework at the end, but it’s time to do it. I go to the living room where she is watching TV. It’s her favourite series so I wait until commercials. I explain the task and ask the question. Mother.

Why are you asking me things like these? I don’t think they’re doing this in school. I’m sure you saw something and now you think you’re a smart ass and ask me questions. Who do you think you are? Get lost!

I tried asking my dad too, but he didn’t really care. He answered with half a mouth that you’ll learn, it’s none of your business now.

The next day the teacher called each of us in the hallway to tell her what we found out. I didn’t have anything to tell her. She scolded me and told me that you’ll never know if you can’t ask your own parents. What do you expect? Want me to tell you this? Get in the classroom!

I never spoke about this again.

…

I’m 13 and I don’t understand why my abdomen hurts. I go to the bathroom and it appears that I’m bleeding. I get sick and I faint. I wake up to someone shaking me. It was a classmate who came to check up on me. I call my mother and I convince her that I don’t feel right so she picks me up from school. When we get home she asks me again what’s wrong and I tell her. My mother.

Don’t you wear a skirt or shorts and don’t you goddamn dare to get close to any boy. Do you hear me? Don’t you tell anyone about this! Shame on you! From now on you can not not be careful. No more going out, no more seeing anybody. At least for a week. Then we’ll see if I let you. Get me to the school for something like this. Faint like this. I’m so damn ashamed! Shame on you!

I searched online and found out what’s the deal with menstruation. On the internet, I also found something about sex. I shut down the laptop quickly when my dad got home. I don’t understand why my mother told me to keep everything secret, but I listened to her because I’m afraid of her. I found this out after I spoke to my school’s psychologist in secret.

I didn’t understand what was going on.

…

I’m 17 and my parents got divorced 2 years ago. Since then my mother gets drunk every night. If I bother her (and that’s not hard) she shouts at me or slaps me. In the last few months, it got worse and worse. Last night she came home late, very late. The power was off from 11 o’clock so I was sitting on the couch by the window where there was a little light. My mother stumbled into the house and tried to turn on the light. When she saw it’s not working she started shouting. I went to welcome her with the flashlight on my phone. My mother.

Damn you, bitch! I know what you do with the lights off! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Is this how I raised you?

I was sick of her lines repeating over and over again.

PLEASE, STOP! MOTHER, I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. YOU TELL ME THE SAME THING EVERY NIGHT. I HAVE NO REASON TO BE ASHAMED. PLEASE, MOTHER, I CAN’T TAKE IT!

I thought I might have a chance to stop all this. For a moment, I really hoped. Mother started to shake and got to the kitchen. She opened a drawer and started to look for something. It was the knife drawer.

I’ll show you what shame is! Damn you, bitch!

I saw her coming towards me with the knife. I froze for a moment then screamed. I hardly found the knob and ran down the stairs. My mother tried to run after me, but she stopped in front of the building and started puking. I continued to run until I reached a different neighbourhood. My heart was beating so fast. I sat down under a streetlamp and called the police. I knew this was the only solution and it would also be good for my mother.

Hello! I want to report… a domestic violence case.

(Hahaha! The cows who call at this hour are domestic!) What can I help you with?

My mother got home a few minutes ago, maybe one hour ago and we quarrelled and she threatened me with a knife.

(The damned girl is reporting her mother) And where are you now?

I ran away. I’m not sure about the address. I’m on the streets.

(And what do you want us to do?) And the mother?

Mother is at home. I can give you the address.

(You can give me whatever you want, I’m not moving) How dare you report your mother? Whatever I shouldn’t have said that. Nevermind. We’re on it.

I start crying. It’s very late, but cars keep passing and sometimes people too. I’m cold. I have a pullover and some house trousers. I’m lucky I was waiting for my mother with my shoes on in case I needed to take her to the emergency room. It happened 4 times in the last 6 months.

A guy approaches me. He seems young. I don’t think he’s older than 25. He stinks horribly of alcohol. There are people around, I’m safe. Right? The guy waits for a large group of people to pass, but in all this time he’s staring at me. I want to get up and run again, but when I try to leave someone grabs me by the arm.

Beauty. Come with me and shut up!

Again, I froze for a few moments. I don’t know for how long. I was moving on command. We didn’t go far, we were at one row of houses away from cars and people. We stopped behind a shop. He hit my head on a wall and covered my mouth with his jacket sleeve. He pulled my pants down. I wanted to scream in pain, but I fainted again. I woke up after a few moments and started struggling. He pushed me in the shop’s window. I fell through the shards and triggered the alarm. Before he disappeared, he sprinkled some cheap alcohol on me and left the bottle near me.

I will never be the same

***

I’m 24 years old and it’s night. I live alone in an old house that my dad inherited from some aunt. I drink too much and it’s one year since I can’t stop. When I’m drunk I don’t like staying at home because I’m scared of death. What if I get sick and I choke?

This is one of the worst nights. I was paranoid and I feel that someone is constantly knocking on my door. I chugged almost all the alcohol that I had in my house. Normally I would be numb already, but now I’m too agitated. I take a bottle in my pocket and get out for a walk. I continuously feel as if someone is following me. I walk around bars. People always leave full glasses and bottles. No matter how much I drink tonight, I’m still feeling lucid. I need to let it out somehow.

I see a girl. She’s very young but I don’t care.

…

I’m 18 and my French teacher tells me we need to discuss after the class. It was Thursday and French was my last class so we were left alone in the classroom - just me and her. She knew I had it bad at home and I wasn’t really the perfect student. I skipped many classes, I would fight anyone who annoyed me and, maybe most importantly, I didn’t have friends. No one to defend me, no one who would believe me.

She stands up and gets in front of me. She is wearing a jumper, a skirt and some hills that make her a few inches taller than me. She looks me up and down and starts telling me that your grades are kind of bad in all your classes, not just in French. I don’t answer anything, I don’t understand what does she want from me. After a few moments, she gets closer to me and I try to take one step back but I hit a desk.

Be careful where you go. So as I was saying, your grades are kind of bad. I don’t think you’ll pass. You know, I get along very well with the director and the other teachers. I could talk to them.

She starts touching me. First on the face, on the chest, on the back, she takes my hand, she drops my hand, she continues to touch my back, my buttocks and then she tries to unzip my trousers. So that’s what it’s all about. I push her with all my strength and she hits the blackboard. I don’t check if she fainted or if she’s still alive, I ran out of the school and I’m not planning to return.

After a few days, the police came knocking on my door. I’m charged with bodily harm and attempted rape.

I spent 2 years and 3 months in prison.

…

I’m 12 and I don’t understand why all girls are afraid of me. I pull their hair and insult them whenever I can, that’s how my dad told me it’s done. Girls are inferior to us and they’re good for nothing, but as a man, you sometimes need to let it out. That’s what my dad told me and no one said he’s wrong.

I really like a girl in my class. She’s so beautiful. Yesterday her deskmate didn’t come so I sat down next to her. When she saw me she started screaming. I got closer to her and hugged her. She pushed me away and got out of the classroom crying. In a few minutes, I was face to face with the director and she was threatening that she would expel me. She calls my dad and tells him to come to pick me up. I hear how he starts laughing and tells her that as if you don’t know boys will be boys. I don’t think the director finds this funny, but she sends me back to class.

When I got home, my dad was waiting for me very angry. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and threw me in an armchair.

Is this what I taught you? You’re a loser! Your mother should have taken you with her when she left, you’re just as retarded as that woman. How can you be snitched on by a girl?

Apparently because of the call from the director my dad had trouble with his boss. He sent him home after only 2 hours of work and reduced his salary. The money he earned that day was spent on some cheap alcohol that made him stink horribly. After he finished telling me that you’re a loser, he took the money I was saving for a computer and left. I didn’t see him for a week,

Ever since then I want to make him proud of me.

…

I’m 5 and I don’t know what a mother is. One year ago she wrote us a letter and left with a new husband. My dad loved her a lot and suffered a lot. A few times I found him lying still in his room. I learned from a neighbour how to call for an ambulance. I was told that he tried to commit suicide. I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t like it when he was away.

I remember perfectly that I called for an ambulance 7 times. Every time, my dad was away for 2 weeks and I was staying with another neighbour (not the one that taught me to call). But I really didn’t like this neighbour. She was very old compared to my dad. She was around 50 and lived alone. No one came to visit her. Sometimes I would see kids that I recognised from the neighbourhood and always left crying. I didn’t know what was going on at her house until I got there myself.

She would always wait until it was 10 AM because only then she could be sure that all the other apartments were empty. She had a very dark room with only one red light. I think she walled up the window, but I’m not sure. The walls are covered with egg cartons. When I got inside the room, she would lock the door. She would tell me to sit down on a chair or on the bed and she would tie me up. She was always naked in that room. She would ask me to do things I didn’t understand then. She would tell me to stick my tongue out and told me to lick her all over.

After the seventh time, when dad came back I told him everything that happened. He took my hand and we went to her house together one morning, at 10 AM. When we got inside the apartment my dad started spitting on her and hitting her. He told her to take him to the dark room too. I never saw her again, and now another family lives in that apartment.

I then decided that I won’t let any other woman get close to me.

***

You saw everything that happened to me. You knew I was not safe at home. You heard my screams countless times. I cried next to you. It was clear what I go through and that one day I will end up like this. I never had a real parent near me. I didn’t understand what was going on with me and with the people around me because there was no one there to teach me.

What did you do for me?