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Living in Squalor!

  I head downstairs, the overwhelming scent of mold permeates throughout the room. Garbage and wet clothes are scattered everywhere and makeshift hammocks adorn the ceiling. A dirty rabbit hutch reeks of urine and feces, and the rotting smell of dead mice or some other mysterious animal buried beneath the filthy ruble burns my nose. As the intense aroma penetrates my eyes, they begin to water incessantly, I don’t think I can handle this. With a trash bag in one hand and plugging my nose with the other, I proceed down into the dingy basement. I  begin wading through the plethora of items in my path, deciding what to keep and what to throw out, I’m disgusted at what I see, my mother would have never let it get like this.  I stand, staring at a massive pile of clothes laying on the damp floor by the washing machine. It feels like just yesterday my mother died and suddenly life went from living in splendor to living in squalor. For me, living in “splendor” didn’t mean living in some extrav
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Never Alone!


Click, I shut the door behind me, I lean my back up against it and slowly inch down to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest. I rest my head down on my knees and draw in a deep breath, please leave me alone, just let me have a moment to myself, a moment of solace alone in this bathroom. I can feel the cold tiles beneath me, the icy chill sends shivers up my spine, my teeth chatter and I rub my arms, it’s always cold in our house. I pull myself up off the floor and turn on the shower. I disrobe and stare at myself in the mirror, I’m disgusted at what I see, an instant desire for self-mutilation takes over me, to cut and remove every part of me that he is attracted to. I turn my ahead away, I can’t look anymore, the more I look at myself the more I hate what I see. I try and lock the door, I drop my hand and bow my head, the lock doesn’t work. I pray that I can have 30 minutes of undisturbed silence, time to collect my thoughts, and give my body a chance to recuperate from the constant abuse. 

I climb into the bathtub and I lean my head back, allowing the water to pour over me like a waterfall flowing wild and free, soaking deep into my roots, so my soul can start to blossom once again. Suddenly, I hear a click, I whip head around, I feel cool air seeping into the shower as the curtain is slowly being pulled back. I close my eyes, I should have known he wouldn’t leave me alone, privacy does not exist, it is a mere illusion, a fallacy created to make me think I am alone and not being watched, but the truth is, I am never alone, I will never be alone, he will always be watching, waiting for his moment to attack. 

I can feel my skin crawl as his wandering eyes scan across my body. He asks if he can take a “peek,” I’m confused, I thought that’s what he was doing, apparently a “peek,” involves a much more thorough examination as if he is a doctor inspecting my body for ticks. I cringe, once again, he asks me if he could take a “peek, like I’m given a choice. So, reluctantly I allow him to do as he pleases. When he is satisfied with his inspection, he smiles and retreats from the bathroom, leaving me to finish showering. I sit on the floor of the bathtub and curl back up into a little ball, I feel like if I were an actual prisoner in jail, I would have more privacy and rights than I do in the “safety” of my own home, it’s a shame since I haven’t even committed a crime. I grab the soap and washcloth and begin scrubbing vigorously, I scrub so hard my skin becomes red and raw and I can feel it burning as the hot water runs over it. 

I look up to the ceiling, I feel sorry for myself. I ask God the age old question, “why me,?” Does God hate me?, is there any truth to the statement, “God doesn’t give you any more than he thinks you can handle,” because I feel like giving up, I don’t think I can handle this anymore, 5 years of abuse and dealing with my fathers infatuation with me. When is enough, enough? I bring my head back down so the water can run down my back, just then, I notice something strange in the wall, there is a hole in between the shower head and the handle. I am perplexed by the fact that the hole is perfectly round as if it were put there intentionally. I reach up to it and draw my face near, I squint my eyes and try to focus and I ask myself, is the hole deep?, does it go completely through to the other side of the wall? I am now pressed up against the wall, hands up on either side of my face, bracing myself, I push my eye up against the hole, I pull away in horror, there is an eye staring back at me, but, that isn’t what startled me, what startled me was the color of the eye, you see, my dads eyes are blue, this eye was not blue, in fact it was dark and sort of droopy looking, I knew exactly whose eye was staring back at me, it was my brother. In that moment, I realized, not only was my dad perverted but my brother was also disturbed. 

I quickly left the shower, I wanted to confront him, but, I didn’t know what to say. My body shook in dismay, I suddenly felt like a pawn in a chess match between my brother and my father, a piece to be used in their game of life and they had intended to win no matter what the cost. I ran to my room, I didn’t know what to think or do, I buried my face into my pillow, wrapped myself in my blankets and silently screamed, I screamed for hours until my head felt like it was going to explode. At this point, I am so depleted of energy, I can’t even wrap my head around what I just saw, so I close my eyes and go to sleep.

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