Third Wave

It happened: another flashback. It wasn't what I expected, either.

I kept hearing "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" in my head and I felt in my gut that it was wedging one in, so I kept blocking it with another song. It was resilient, though, and kept coming back. 

What I didn't expect at all was another song to shove its way in, as if through a back door, and BAM. 

I'd always held the memory of me running through his room when I was... 7 or so. He'd moved downstairs off the dining room. I really don't know anything surrounding the move, but I know I was running around his bed and I knew I shouldn't be there. I was having fun. The radio was on and "Run Like the Wind" was playing. So, yeah, it was silly. The memory ended there.

The flashback started there. 

He rushed in like a tornado. He grabbed me by the throat, as he apparently loved to do, and picked me up. Didn't he tell me I wasn't allowed in there? Now he'd have to make me pay. He threw me down and, keeping his hand on my throat, digging it into the mattress, he went to rape me. JUST as he started he must have heard the front door open. (I couldn't hear a thing with my head so shoved down.) He pulled out and pulled me up. It was time to make like everything was normal, though by now I knew at least my mom knew better.

Smile and pretend. Smile and pretend. Smile and pretend. It's the story of my life: smile and pretend. I suppose it's how I survived and how I honed my people skills, but at the core I'm someone they probably won't ever know even if they are my friend. 

Smile and pretend. Everything is okay. Really.

~DC