Authors Note: This by far has been my favorite writing piece we have done this year; however, the final product is not the only memorable part, but the experience of writing it as well. For a lack of a better term, this short story changed my life. Yeah, that may sound cliche but it's true. Without getting into details this short story helped me realize that I was taking a very important relationship for granted.
A Battlefield For a Home
It doesn’t look right. The crooked book on my dresser has been staring me down ever since I locked myself away between these walls. Let alone the fact that the image of the scattered bobby pins on my stand is slowly taking away my sanity. I turn the book a few degrees, lining it up exactly with my collection of devotional novels and my Bible and place the pins in my jewelry box; the satisfaction of order sends a tingle down my spine, just the look of completion or even taking it a step further: perfection. A slight grin slowly grows on my face, the final step of this sensation I was so desperately seeking for. The spotless carpet, touched to gold by the afternoon sun, the precisely dusted cherry wood furniture, the strategized placement of each and every belonging, the beauty, the perfection – all has me mesmerized. Order is the only escape I can run to. Although it may seem like a curse or a mindset of desperation, it is the place I inevitably fall to when no other road will lead to satisfaction. The place I fall to when just ten minutes ago, I was free from all stress, worry, and pain. But it was all taken from me when I switched worlds in just a matter of seconds.
One step through my front door, that’s all it takes; all it takes to be completely enveloped in blood-curdling screams, furious shouts, and words being thrown around like knives. When I step through the door it’s as if I have walked across the border of heaven to hell, sucking away any energy filled with joy, laughter, or even the tiniest, positive thought right out of me. While pushing through the thick and humid air, I’ll be lucky if I can keep just one piece of hope or a little glimpse of light to savor and carry with me to my self-imprisonment destined for me just moments from now. Every home has arguments, battles that eventually end in surrender or even better, a peace treaty, but that isn’t the case. How I wish this battlefield I live in could be something other than a constant war with no end. I would give anything for a treaty, whether it is in hope of peace or deceit; I just want it to end. With a past of depression, starvation, and exhaustion of defeat from sin, my sister is struggling to find peace with my family and her own self again. In order to do so, she believes starting a fight in every situation possible is going to get her closer to that. With these fights comes concern and more importantly, attention. While I slave away in school work, assist in any way around the house, keep my grades up, share God’s word and stay in it myself, my sister continuously digs herself a deeper hole. Yes, she needs attention to be rescued from this life of despair, but not every last bit of attention to the point where I feel as if I am nothing to them. Before I slowly drift away into my bedroom, a piece of hope arises in me to try to settle this war.
I whisper, “Guys, can we..maybe..just stop..the fighting..please?”
Not even a second after my comment all six furious and raging eyes turn to me and the comments begin to hit me like silver bullets.
“Stay out of this!”
“Just be quiet this isn’t your fight! Why do you always try to butt in?!”
“Oh here comes the perfect and holy daughter! Sorry I’m not good enough!”
Bottling up all the fury building inside of me, I control my anger before I explode. I was not conscious of an effort, but a punch of anxiety to the gut apprised me that my point of focus has switched from my fury to my fascination of perfection. Instantly the thought of “there must be something out of place in my bedroom” floods my mind. When it comes to my obsession with perfection, on the inside I enter a mode of insanity, but on the outside I show no emotion; just a blank face, desperate to escape in any way.
That is how I ended up where I am now, searching for the solution to my craving. But sometimes I think to myself, this isn’t just a craving. It’s the only thing I can fix. I can’t fix my sister. There’s nothing in my power I can do to give her peace and happiness, nothing but just pray and hold onto my hope. This system, yet completely delusional, allows me to escape and return to reality with a clear mind, ready to take anything from anyone.
My session is done. I’ve come back down to earth, left my fantasy behind me and am now sitting in a blank and perfect room. With years of experience with this cycle, this time feels different. I can literally feel the anger that I just numbed away with order, burning off the shield I had just built in my imprisonment. It’s creeping up inside of me and I know that all of the anger I have bottled up inside of me is about to come out. Intense, poignant rage shoots from my neck and makes its way through every vein of my body and limbs. In the blink of an eye, absolute fury and hate has corrupted every ounce of blood my body contains. Holding it in, I begin to feel this rage eating away at everything inside of me. The pain of containing so much anger at once is making me doubt how long I can hold it in. Whether or not I should let it escape becomes a battle between two starved dogs ferociously fighting to the death for food inside of me. But which one wins?
“For years I have held this in…”
“But I can’t I can’t it’s just not me...”
“Everything she has done to me…”
“But I love her…”
I soon discover, that the dog that wins…is the one you feed.
Storming off into her room I throw open her door and the look on her face is already reading what is about to happen, as if she has already encountered the demon that is about to escape from me.
“I do everything perfect! Everything! And all you do here is sit on your lazy butt and get everything you want! You’re a screw up! How could you get all that attention?! Do you know how much pain you have put us through?!”
Stop yourself. This isn’t going to get you anywhere.
“No you probably have no idea! Because all you care about is yourself! That’s it! Have you EVER thought about someone else’s pain instead of just getting pity for your own?!”
I was out of words to say, this isn’t even me talking anymore.
“Sometimes I wish it was just me! Just me here alone and I would get the attention I deserve! I just wish you would leave!”
With exhaustion, terror, and confusion beyond normality, my eyes flood with tears. Not sure what just left my body, I stomp back to my bedroom, throw myself onto my bed, and release the last bit of my demonic rage with a scream so powerful, I swear, it got rid of any painful memory, feeling, or thought that was left inside of me. I’m sitting here panting, thankful for the fact that whatever just happened is over with. Then my mind took off: I love her. I love my sister so much. We used to be best friends. She would dress me up when I was too little to defend myself, and I would get so angry…but I loved her. And I still love her now. What have I done?! How could I be so stupid..so..so idiotic! She wasn’t the stupid one..it was..it was me! The next thing I knew I was running to her room, no longer craving to bottle up my rage or to straighten up anything that doesn’t reach the standard of perfection; but to sign this peace treaty myself. Because it has been up to me all along. The next thing I know I’m running to her room, throw open the door and…and…the sight is torturous. The last thing I see before my entire body gives out is my sisters lifeless hand behind the corner of her bed, a prescription bottle just within its reach, and pills scattered around the floor; the very pills that just selfishly took my sister’s life right out of her hands.
