They told her she could be anything when she grew up. They just didn’t specify that it meant her destiny could fall into the hands of a murderer. Would she have lived just as freely if she had known her fate? Would she have been more careful? They say knowledge is power, but how deep does that power permeate? Where does it transcend and cross into the lives of others? Would preventing her death have caused the demise of another?
These are all questions she asks herself, as her body lay there, lifeless, lonely, and longing for an explanation for it all.
She was me.
I was only 8 years old when I had my first nightmare. When he first touched me. I didn’t like it. Not at all. It felt wrong and made me sick to my stomach. But as I was being dragged down to the bottom of the pool, I prayed to God that one day my voice would be heard. Beyond the shadows of these unsightly experiences.
These horrible people that creep away and manage to sneak through the cracks in society. They slither. They smile. They charm. They’re nothing but snakes. Luring you in and pulling you down until your lungs scream and finally give out. And nothing is left but your body.
The sad thing is, they usually don’t stop right away. They don’t know it when it happens. When your soul leaves the physical world. Because they’re not out there soul searching. They’re out to rob you of your body, dignity, and reality.
I’m on my way home, though. I’m on my way. I may not land exactly where I originally was and inside the same skin, but I will be back. I will reclaim my truth. And all I have to do is call upon those nightmares. They were once so scary, awful, painful. It made life barely breathable at times.
Where I am now though, I don’t need breath. I don’t need air. I don’t need anything. I’m fueled by the fight in my soul. So, thank you. Thank you to all the brilliant slayers who had a hand in composing this beautiful life of mine that reads like a tragedy. Because of you all, really, I can now call it a triumph.
Despite being dead, I have never felt more alive. They say to not live with anger and vengeance, but they can’t tell you how to function when you’re dead. No one can tell me what to do now. After all, what’s a girl to do who just wanted to write about nightmares, anyway? I’m just a girl with a soul set on fire.
