Chapter Eight

I smiled; a smile that showed all of my crooked teeth; a smile that showed every bit of happiness I felt in the moment; a smile that displayed the innocence that only a child can have. Children don't have to deal with worrying about what anybody thinks of their smile, whether they think it's too bright or too forced, or perhaps not big or delicate enough. Every year since that moment, my smile dimmed a bit like a candle left to burn without the constant supply of wax or the protection of human hands against harsh, strong winds. What stood bright had now wilted.

The young child that had once smiled so bright now sat curled on the floor with tears streaming down her face, wondering what could have been. Perhaps if the world hadn't been so harsh to the small, but kind hands, she wouldn't be here. Perhaps she would be dancing like a fool in love, just as the rest of her peers were doing. Instead, she sat with thoughts that could break even the most guarded of hearts penetrating her brain. She seemed fragile, like a delicate china doll that would crumble to pieces with one wayward touch, or in her case another destructive comment.

I sat with my head leaning against the wall, silent tears running down my face. Reality hadn't sunk in yet, all my brain was able to comprehend was that I needed to let it out. I needed to let it all out. Every horrible thing they whispered about me, knowing I could hear; every time I was discluded; every time they made me think I was fucked in the head. I made myself think that this was necessary, and maybe to a certain level, it was. After all, how could I ever move on if I didn't apologize to myself first? I first needed to forgive myself for believing their cruel words. It's a different thing if everybody else around me gives up on me, but for me to give up on myself? It's the worst thing I could ever do to myself. Ultimately at the end of the day, I only have myself. No prince charming is going to come, riding in his horse, to my rescue every time someone talks shit about me; no best friend is going to defend me in an argument. It's always just going to be me. If only at that time, I would have realized how true that statement was.

Time passed me by, I remained right where I was; It felt like shock had overtaken all of my senses. Sometimes I feel like if nothing had happened I could have stayed there for eternity. Head against the wall, knees pulled to my chest, and silent tears of sorrow made a track down my face. It was a strange type of peace, one that I had never experienced before. I think I finally gave up. I finally let go of all the baggage I was forced to carry, falling and pleading, but never fully getting crushed. That was the moment I truly moved one. I never forgot it of course, and to be honest, I never forgave either. Yet, I was able to move on, reclaiming the power that was snatched from me by people who enjoyed seeing me helpless on the floor, a twisting mess of tears, sweat, and stress.

Then suddenly, I heard a crash. Time stilled, finally stopping its impatient pace to observe everything else which simply tried to keep up with it. The crash was big, so big that even my constant dripping of tears stopped. It jumpstarted my body as I moved in instinct to the bunker door. I leaned against it, pressing my ear to the cool metal, hoping to hear something, anything. My gut feeling was back, stronger than ever, and my breathing grew more panicked for the third time today. It has been a long day, hasn't it?

I closed my eyes, whispering comforting thoughts to myself as I started to pace the length of the room. My gut feeling nagging me to no end. Every few seconds, my head would turn to the bunker opening as if expecting someone to burst through it. My attempts to calm myself down did nothing to my frightened state. Overgrown nails turned into shrubs, while blood appeared as nature's lipstick on my lips due to my overzealous teeth. Thoughts flew in and out of my brain like winged soldiers sent to make my head the crossroad of trades.

As humans we want to meddle in everything, it's how we were programmed. So naturally, when we can't change or interfere in a situation, it will drive us to pull our hair out just to get away from the madness. Whether it's in the hospital waiting room or an underground bunker, the feeling is always there. The desperate feeling of helplessness that drives you up the wall, and makes you do unthinkable acts. I wanted to scream, not knowing how to occupy myself or what to do. I knew if I was logical like I was taught to be, I would have started looking for the essentials: food, water, a place to sleep, my sanity...yet I stood as if I was glued to the spot. The feeling in my stomach grew, expanding to my lungs and my heart.

I closed my mouth, knowing that if left open, the scream building in my chest would erupt like a volcano forced to be dormant. Then again, I was the only person here. Society's judging eyes were outside after locking me here. Nobody was here to comment. Faced with this realization, my lips spread into a smile, the gap between them increasing. With a grin on my face, I screamed; the sound loud enough to match the crash itself. If only, I had known that outside, millions of people were doing the same, but they weren't doing it out of joy. No, the heart-shattering shouts were due to the blinding pain coursing through their bodies.