The Girl in the Corner

Dear Journal,

I’m so glad to be awake now. I had a horrible dream tonight and I had to write about it.

It started off in a bedroom, similar to mine. I could see a girl who looked to be thirteen, just like me. She didn’t look like those 13-year-olds going on 21. Rather, she looked just like me, a 13-year-old who was very much still a little girl. She had the television going and was wearing headphones as she listened to her music. It was late, almost 11pm or so, and oh what fun she looked to be having on her Saturday night. Dancing around the room as free as could be. I wanted to join in so badly. I swear that, for a moment, I thought I could see a Broadway theater. I wonder if that’s what she saw too. I wish I could have joined her.

But, that part of the dream didn’t last very long. As she danced about the room, there was a knock at her bedroom door. She didn’t respond to it, though. It was obvious that the music was too loud for her to hear a knock. I was waving at her, trying to let her know, but of course she could not see me. The knocking continued, and so did her lack of awareness. I couldn’t blame her, though. She looked so absorbed in that world of hers that the real one seemed far from her mind.

That’s when it happened. I couldn’t believe my eyes. This man just opened her door. She had it closed for privacy, but he just opened it anyway. How did he know she wasn’t sound asleep? How did he know she wasn’t changing? He had no right, yet he did it anyway. And, the look on his face… ugly! He reeked of beer and his face was one of anger. He glared at this little girl with a look of so much outrage, and for what? I couldn’t understand. Was it her father? I didn’t know. What I did know, though, was that she wasn’t doing anything wrong, but there he was staring at her as if she had been. That’s when she turned around.

She jumped as she was immediately frightened to turn and see this man standing in her room, watching her. I think it was a combination of both anger that her privacy had been invaded, as well as embarrassment that he had caught her in a fantasy world of some sort. I don’t know for sure, but that would make me angry and embarrassed for sure. She quickly removed her headphones, revealing just how loud the music was, which lead to him fiercely asking his first question.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The little girl looked at him, and responded in a tone of both frustration and frightened shakiness.

“What?”

He just glared back at her and in a tone of such entitlement, he responded.

“What the hell are you doing? I was knocking on that door and you didn’t answer.”

The girl then meekly told him that she was listening to her music. But, that didn’t make the conversation go any better. The man just went on to tell her that she is to open the door when he knocks. He, then, walked all the way into the room, closing the door behind him. At this point, the relationship of the girl and man became clear, and I realized that it was not her father. It had also become apparent that this man was smashed out drunk.

He walked over to the girl. I could see the fear in her eyes. She looked at the bedroom door. I’m not sure what was going through her mind, but I couldn’t help but think that maybe she was hoping someone would come in. I think she wanted her dad or mom to walk in and catch this person. I kept hoping the same thing for her. But, no one came.

This man was tall compared to the girl, and he looked to be quite muscular. He was frightening with that body and look on his face. That’s why I don’t blame her for just backing into the corner of her room, as he walked her into it. He knew what he was doing. He walked in a way where she had no escape around him, and just kept walking toward her until she was pushed into the corner. I could see her turning her head quite a bit as he towered over her. She couldn’t have been more than 5 feet at the time, and he stood over her, looking down right at her. She kept turning her head toward the door and downward to the floor. I could see she was trying to hold her breath too. As bad as his clothes smelled, I can’t even imagine his breath.

That wasn’t the worst of it, though. She was trapped in this corner, as he started telling her things about when he had been in a horrible place. How he had to be careful because men would rape other men, and stick stuff up their backsides. They would hurt each other ,‘cause there are no women in there. I didn’t even understand a lot of what he was telling her, and I could tell that she didn’t either. She knew enough, though. And, unfortunately, she was also learning a lot more that night. He then went on to tell her that he was going to die just like one of their relatives.

“I’m going to die just like he did. He couldn’t take the pain from war and he drank himself to death. The same is going to happen to me.”

This scared the girl. For one, she didn’t know that was the reason that family member had died. I could see it on her face. She knew how, but not why. Secondly, she didn’t want the same thing to happen to this person. I could see how much she loved this man, no matter how awful he was being toward her. It was the alcohol that was making him this way, and she didn’t want to lose him from her life.

She was hurting. She wanted to get out so badly, and I think she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs for help. I know that she wanted her mom and dad to save her. She wanted someone to catch him. But, no one came.

The man just wouldn’t stop, though. He kept talking about his girlfriend and how much of a “b**ch” she was. He was detailing fights that they had, no matter how inappropriate. I guess at that point, though, wishing for appropriateness was pretty ridiculous. He continued on, telling her that he would see other pretty women and want to be with them instead of his girlfriend. He was saying dirty and nasty stuff. I could see her body language and that she hated hearing all of this. Her face looked sick. She wanted out. She wanted away. She wanted help. But, no one came.

Finally, after several minutes, the man seemed to finally finish with whatever the hell he was trying to do in the first place. He wrapped his arm firmly around the girl’s neck and hugged her tightly, which made her head feel a sudden pressure from the tightness of his grip. He just kept telling her that he loved her. When he was ready, he began to walk toward the door. However, before he left, he turned and looked at the girl one last time.

“You know I love you right?” He asked with firmness in his voice that was similar to a reprimand.

The girl just quietly and numbly nodded slightly. He then got that ugly and aggressive look on his face again before speaking to her once more.

“Tell me that you know your [his relationship] loves you!”

I saw the girl’s face. It was one of realization. She knew that she had to say that she knew he loved her; otherwise he was going to get angry again and wasn’t going to leave. So, she repeated it.

“I know you love me.”

I felt bad for her. I thought she was going to throw up. But, that didn’t matter to the man. He just got a smirk on his face and said, “That’s right!”

Then, as if he had just come into her room to sweetly say, “Goodnight”, he turned around, walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

That’s when the tears finally came. She cried all alone. I wanted to sit by her and hold her hand, but I couldn’t. I could only watch as she cried for someone to hold her. She wanted someone to protect her from this person who should have been one of those protectors. She wanted someone to hug her. But, no one came.

What’s depressing is the fact that this isn’t where the dream ended. The dream went on to show this little girl growing up. She continued to endure this man coming into her bedroom. After that first time, she told her mom, who talked with this person, but that didn’t stop it. He knew when her parents were asleep that they would not know when he was in her room. The dream then flashed to her being asleep a year later. She lay in her bed sleeping. He was drunk and just standing at her bedroom door, by the foot of her bed. He was watching her. It was creepy. She woke up, though. And, she got scared when she saw him. He apologized to her, and said that he just liked to watch her sleep. This bothered the girl, I could tell. But, she didn’t say anything. Why would she? No one ever came.

The dream followed this girl through all of her teenage years, when she would heat up this man’s food in order to make sure he got food into his stomach. Most of the time, he’d pass out before he could finish, so she’d just be washing dishes and putting the food away in the middle of the night.

As adulthood hit, she continued to struggle with this man’s situation. There was a time when she was working on final projects in college. Her graduation was getting close, and she needed to finish the projects in order to make it. Unfortunately, there came a family gathering during which she had to work through in order to get them done. She spent the day in the family room, while watching The Simpsons with two of her nephews. She worked on her laptop, while spending time with them. She was trying to be as social as possible, but she needed to finish the projects. Finally, she went into her room toward the end of the day to print out some of the pieces, when the family wanted to take pictures. That was when he came in.

He walked into her room, stinking of beer as usual. He stood towering right over her 5’ 2” frame and stuck his drunken finger into her face. And, with anger reminiscent of the days when she was a little girl, he reprimanded her.

“I don’t give a s**t what you have to do! You better get your a** out of this room and in there to take a picture, or I’m going to rip those f***ing computer cables out of the f***ing wall!”

She listened, as always. After all, he was a father figure for her. He had the right to discipline her all of her childhood. She took the picture. She didn’t smile. I don’t think anyone noticed, though. They were all too busy getting the picture that they so badly wanted. Besides, why would they notice? They were the same people who never came.

When I woke up from this dream, I wanted to go back to the beginning. I wanted to warn that little girl who was dancing in her room. I’m thirteen, just like she was, so maybe she would have listened to me… from one kid to another. I wanted to tell her what was coming, so maybe she could do something differently. I don’t know what, but maybe there could have been something. I wish I could have told her that night was going to be the beginning of everything. The beginning of what would never end. If I received a warning like that, then I’m sure I would listen to it. I would remember it. I would make sure not to let it happen.

Oh well, at least it was just a dream, right? A long and horrible nightmare, that was now over. What a relief not to be in that world anymore.

Well, dear journal, as always thank you for listening to my weird thirteen-year-old ramblings. I think I’ll listen to some music before I…

Oh, I have to go. Someone’s knocking at my bedroom door. That’s strange. It’s late and my parents are asleep. I wonder who it could be.

I better get it.

Your friend,
Summer

 

10 thoughts on “The Girl in the Corner

  1. Dear Summer Moon,

    Oh!! I’m really sorry – I’ve just looked at the Tags and you didn’t add it to fiction – I thought it was a piece of fiction, I was engrossed in the story it was so well written. I hope I haven’t offended you!!

    Love Dotty xxx

    • Thank you, Dotty. It’s kind of you to think of me and I appreciate it. But, please don’t worry, you didn’t offend me one bit. I can totally understand why you would think it was fiction, as I wrote it in that type of format. I find it easier to work through these pains in this format of storytelling, as it allows me more courage to let them out for some reason. I guess ’cause it allows me to view it from the outside, where it’s less difficult to write about. Almost like an out of body experience in a way.

      As for the “creepy-chills” you felt at the end… that actually tells me that I was able to convey those very feelings I experienced as a child and to this day, so thank you for sharing that with me.

  2. (I love Dotty- she’s so cool! :))

    I will have a read of this post later Summer. I just wanted to post my response to yours on my left-right brain post, for some reason I couldn’t reply properly on my blog. Here it is:

    “Summer- I’ve been finding it really interesting seeing everyone’s results too! It’s great that you’d like to learn an instrument. I’d quite like to have a go at guitar. Playing music is a great way to balance left and right brain- you need the left (logic) to read the music and learn the technicalities, and the right for music appreciation and expression. How cool is that!

    Media arts must have been an interesting degree- if you have any creations you could share on your blog it would be really cool to see them!”

    Rachel
    xxx

    • I never knew that about music. I always thought it was a purely right-brain ability. That’s really interesting to learn that it also requires the left side to read the music and learn the actual playing side of things. It makes total sense, though. Thanks for sharing that!

      Media arts was very interesting and I learned a lot. I’ve always loved art, although writing has been my strongest and deepest passion. Thank you for wanting to see some of my pieces. I think I’ll look through my library of projects and find some to share. 🙂

  3. Oh Summer- that’s so terrifying. How much you were betrayed by those closest to you for their lack of protection.

    Your writing truly is extraordinary. Your posts are long, but I’m always totally gripped by your vivid descriptions, so they don’t feel long at all. You really should be writing novels, if you aren’t already!

    I wish I could have been there with your 13 year old self too, holding her hand.

    • Thank you so much, Rachel! That thought is very comforting. As I was telling Dotty, I find it much easier to talk about some pains in this way. It’s how I’ve even told my therapist some of them, in order to get myself to loosen up about them with her, and then I can talk normally.

      I appreciate and thank you for your kind words on my writing. In regard to one thing you said, I am indeed currently writing a novel. Well, I’ve started it… only three chapters so far. But I have the whole thing outlined with the rough idea of where it’s going. Although, as my therapist tells me, just let myself take it where it wants to go and don’t fix myself on a definite path. It’s my goal to finish it by the end of the year. That was a new years resolution of mine, but so far I haven’t touched it since last year. It’s always on my mind though. I keep going into the world and living through what I want to write. I just need to sit myself down and write it down, though.

      If I ever finish it, I’ll be sure to post that it’s finished. Maybe even be able to say it’s published someday. That would be a dream come true. I’ve wanted to publish a book since I was a little girl. That would be a happy day.

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