Fall 2021

8/23

Today has been a week since I started my job for the Morales Household. As their maid, it is my duty to clean, bake, and cater to their every need. The job is always simple, in fact I enjoy it, they don’t treat me badly. I am essentially part of their family, but there is one thing that concerns me. The lady of the household tends to have terrible spouts of night terrors. For the past several days I have found her staring intensely at any mirror that catches her attention. Lord Morales says there is nothing wrong, she’s simply having nightmares over their non-existent child. I don’t believe it. Before I stir her from slumber she mumbles over and over, “That’s not me, that’s not me.” but for the good of the family I stay silent and pray for her recovery. 

8/28

It is strange, I find the lady slowly becoming more tired every morning. I have begun to make her an herbal tea that has been proven to improve sleep. She is grateful, but we both notice it is not working. I wish to ask the lord how I can help his wife, but he seems to always be locked away in his study, and as a maid it would be crude of me to bother him when he is so busy. So once again, I simply pray to God that he will heal this woman from her ailments, because I would hate to see the wife of the man that saved me perish to something as silly as night terrors. 

8/31

The more I watch, the more disturbed I become. The lady’s night terrors are becoming more frequent and more violent. She has requested that all the mirrors are hidden behind cloths and any reflective surfaces destroyed. When I asked the lord he simply said to do as she requests. After all, if she is more comfortable it might allow them to have a child and the terrors will stop. I do not remain as convinced, but I am in no room to argue. It is not as if she is harming herself by hiding the mirrors. 

9/01

I was wrong, someone allowed a cloth to fall off a mirror and I was woken to the sounds of shattering glass. When I rushed to the source of the sound I found the lady on the ground sobbing, her arms covered in a deep crimson liquid with shards of glass protruding from her weak limbs. As she screamed she continued to shatter the glass from her arms causing the liquid and glass to splatter on my body. Other maids rush out to help the lady and I am pulled away by the lord who offered to clean any of my wounds. We sat in his dining room as he quietly rubbed the blood. I questioned him on his wife’s health, but he dismissed it saying I was more important. I remember glancing over to the lady who was still sobbing. The lord gently moved my face to meet his eyes and reassured me that his wife would be fine since I was doing such a wonderful job watching her. After my hand was wrapped he ushered me to my room and wished me a peaceful night. He is watching me. 

9/06

It has been two weeks since I became a maid, and today the lord is leaving the household on a business trip. The lady begged him to stay by her, but he left quickly without saying a word to her. I have taken it upon myself to watch the lady with her night spouts. She claims to always be exhausted, especially after last night, so I decided to make her a special dinner and she allows all the maids to eat with her. This is where I learned the lady was once a maid for the lord as well. She was just a teenager then, like me, but she prayed to God that he would take her away. Unfortunately he had a wife before my lady wed him, but she died tragically one night while sleeping. It was as if she had just died of old age. She then jokes that he hasn’t aged at all. The lady finished her dinner looking much more refreshed and bid the rest of us good night. I clean the dishes then go to bed, she did not have any night terrors. 

9/16

The lady is doing well! She misses her husband, but her night terrors have completely stopped and she has discovered she is pregnant, all that awaits now is for my lord to come back and everything will be happy in our household again, God has heard and answered my prayers I will continue to write updates if they come, but at this rate I doubt they will. 

10/06

The lord has returned! When the lady shared the news with her husband he was ecstatic and encouraged us to make a big meal for all of us to partake in as a new member of our family would be joining us soon. While I was making the food the lord pulled me aside and praised me for keeping such a good eye on his wife and how proud of me he was, though he was saying all of this to me it was like talking to a wall, the lord stared at my hand the entire time, specifically the one that was cut a couple weeks ago, before he leaves me to continue cooking he remarks how beautiful I look in the color crimson. It was quite confusing to me and still is as I write this as I have never worn the color crimson before, perhaps he was mistaking me for someone else. We all had dinner together, it was the first time in years I was at a table so big with so many people, though we just had lunch with her, this was different. Everyone was happy and smiling. The lady is better and thus we are all better. 

11/11

I do not understand why this has happened to us. The lady’s pregnancy was going quite well, but now, she was dead this morning. Just like the other wife, it seemed as if she died simply of old age. The lord was absolutely destroyed and has run off to pray at the church. I decided to find a doctor while he was gone out of pure curiosity. The most disturbing discovery was when the doctor inspected the lady’s body, and there was no trace that the baby was still there, as if it had just disappeared! The doctor had informed only me of this discovery and I have decided to keep quiet for the sake of my lord's health. 

12/25

Today the Lord asked me to marry him. He has always been fond of me and thinks it would only be fair to his wife to choose her favorite maid to be the one to carry on her legacy and produce a family heir. I hesitated, but something pulled me to become his. It was as if I never had a choice. So we will wed and I will carry on my lady’s wishes to have a child, but something deep inside my heart tells me I will die, just as the others have.

1/26

It has been quite some time since the wedding, and I now understand everything.  It’s not me. The woman in the mirror, the reflection is not me anymore. All I see is the broken woman that was once his wife, but is now dead. 

2/14

The children, the wives. I found their bodies, I found them. He ate them, and now I cannot run from this fate, but I can stop it from happening again. This diary will be my last will and testament to the thousands of women and children he has killed to stay young. If you find this, don’t trust a man that loves the color crimson on you, he only wants you for your blood.

Catherine Wolfe. 

Thinking about Wren was as easy as slipping on a pair of socks in the morning. He was always at the forefront of my mind, regardless of his location. It had been this way since the day we met. Then, the passivity that came with being in a happy relationship passed. Our romantic connection had hit a brick wall despite the fierce passion between us. I was left to deal with the repercussions of our separation, and Wren ultimately disappeared.

If you happen to be curious about Wren’s whereabouts, one might say that he is six feet beneath the ground. But do not point your finger at me just yet! You have to witness what leads up to the kill. It could be enough to convince you, or it could be enough to confuse you.

Three months ago, I took a trip to Detroit, Michigan...

“Hattie, you have to visit them. It’s been too long!” My sister had said, trying to guilt-trip me into visiting my parents for the millionth time. 

“You want me to drive three hours to visit them? Come on, Liz. Do you hear how crazy you sound?” I responded. 

This was how I answered most of her requests, but this request was particularly needy. The tone in her voice suggested that she knew something that I did not. Liz was still in touch with our parents, after all.

It took another week for me to cave in, but then, I began to pack for a week’s worth of hell. The journey from Columbus, Ohio to Detroit had consisted of many philosophical conversations and a playlist containing early 2000’s hits. It was relatively peaceful. Yet, the thought of seeing my parents kept me from enjoying the drive. 

Would they ask me to leave? Would they simply ignore me? There were too many possibilities. There was also the risk of running into someone from my past. Therefore, it was clear that Michigan had contained everything I had ever wanted to avoid in my adult life. Liz was foolish to have asked me to join her there. 

As we approached the city, I could sense a change in the air. Liz had noticed it as well, a  slight tremble giving her away. Still, I could not tell if this change was a promising sign or an explicit warning. There were too many memories to consider, too many emotions to decipher. It was best to keep my eyes on the road.

It did not take long before we arrived on the far outskirts of Detroit, surrounded by dilapidated buildings and an abundance of weeds. Somehow, life was still present amongst the abandoned houses. It was also not uncommon to see a beautiful 3,000 sq. ft. home amidst this wasteland. Some streets had even fallen into disrepair, and boys often came to the city to race their fancy cars. It was an unfortunate sight, but this was the consequence of a bankrupt city.

Things were not always like this in Detroit, but it was the only way I had ever known it. 

“Hey, remember when we used to ride our bikes around here? That was dangerous, huh.” Liz commented. Her freckled face was contorting from joy to melancholy every thirty seconds. It almost made me want to slap her. 

“We did a lot of things that we shouldn’t have, and we continue to do so. Like now. Why are we here again?”

 “Oh, shush.” Liz snapped, turning her face to the passenger window. 

The summer sun coming through the windscreen made Liz’s red hair look like fire. It fit her personality. Always fiery. Always pushy. Even when we were kids, she never took no for an answer. I knew she meant well, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I didn’t need her guidance. I needed a mom and dad.

“Oh joy, we’re here,” I mumbled after a few minutes, “I guess you should say the first hello.” 

Pulling into the driveway was unsatisfactory, to say the least. We were one of the few who owned a remarkable house in the neighborhood, but that did not make me feel any better. Growing up, owning a nice house had only made us more prone to bullying. There was problem after problem…

“I’ll head to the front door, and you can snatch the luggage. Now, please be on your best behavior. I know this is tough for you-” 

“Do you, Liz? Do you really?” 

“Let’s stop fighting, alright? Everything is going to be fine. Let’s go.” 

A sigh, a shrug. It was all I could offer. Liz wouldn’t listen even if I had put up a real fight, but that was due to putting up with me throughout all the years. At the end of the day, we were each other’s worst nightmares.

The only benefit to coming back home was seeing the family dog. He was a beautiful chocolate lab named Faun, and he was the only thing that my parents got right. Faun often served as my only companion from eighth grade and on; his youthful energy kept me entertained for hours. As I grabbed our suitcases from the trunk of the car, I caught a glimpse of that youth as he bounded out the front door. Faun’s gray hair was just for show. I reached out to him as he approached, smiling when he licked my palm. He remembered me.

This was the only joyous part of the reunion. I knew that the two individuals standing by the door were going to infect the surrounding atmosphere with their unagreeable dispositions. It was confirmed when I finally looked up after embracing Faun. Mother stood with a hand on one hip; her silver hair was frozen in place despite the slight breeze. There was not an ounce of emotion to be found upon her features. Father was behind her, and he wore the smile that I had always associated with complacence. After seven years, he had changed the least. His hair was eternally black, and his skin was eternally tanned. 

I had quickly gathered that there was nothing medically wrong with either of my parents. Liz must have just wanted to visit them, but she was perfectly capable of doing so by herself. She had done it many times before. It was worrisome to think that this was a set-up. Did Liz plan on bringing the family back together, or was she planning on… No, that couldn’t be. Liz only thought hard when it came to college or work. She preferred to give her mind a rest outside of those places. 

“Mom, dad! It’s so great to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t stop by last month, but my research project was weighing down on me. Can’t afford a failed class, right?” 

“Of course not! You don’t need an excuse to stay home. It’s better to focus on one thing at a time.” Dad reasoned aloud. He was always the logical one. 

Mom, on the other hand, took the opportunity to be silent. Her dreadful, gray eyes were keenly fixed upon my face, prying into my soul. She was looking for a reaction. Anything to show that I had changed.

“Hi.” I simply offered with suitcases in hand. 

This served as my cue to approach the doorway and huddle behind my sister. It was then time for my father to focus on me. His smile did not fade, but it changed. It displayed sadness.

 “Hello, honey. It’s good to see you. You look so different! Still rockin’ the blonde hair though.” Classic dad. Always making kind comments, then leaning over to cage me within his arms. It was almost normal.

“Your room is ready. Dusted, swept, but untouched other than that.” Mother explained. 

It was shocking to think that she could be compelled to speak. Perhaps she was just doing it to rub in the fact that I had been gone for so long. Too long, in fact. 

“That’s great to hear. I appreciate it.” I said. 

If I just went along with their silly antics, they would probably play nice throughout the visit. 

“Well, it’s great to have the gang together again, but I’m hungry. Good thing your mom still knows how to cook a fine meal! Let’s head inside, girls.”

Dinner turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Dad set the table while Liz and I got our old rooms set up, and mom eventually placed her homemade dishes before us. The meal was nostalgic. Mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and peas were prepared. This was something that we all craved as a family when we lived under the same roof. It was simple food, but it was delicious. It also had the ability to make us reminisce about the “good ol’ days,” which contributed to a conversation that would have otherwise been tense if this meal were not planned.

With happy expressions upon our faces, Liz and I spent time with our parents in the living room before retiring to our respective bedrooms for the night. It was eerily perfect. So as I  decided to visit my favorite spot in a nearby park when everyone else had gone to sleep, I had expected that the good vibes would only continue. After all, I had been to that spot many times, at various hours of the day, when I was a child. I thought no one else had known about the hole amongst the bushes, made to fit one Hattie Clain. But this was not the case.

As I approached the bushes, I could see the darkened figure of a man within the hole. He held a flashlight in one hand and a book in the other, eyes glued to the pages before him. I did not wish to interrupt, but I was curious to know how long he had known about my hiding place. 

“Um, hi. Excuse me, I’m sorry. May I ask how you found this space?” I asked. 

The man had looked up, clearly startled. His flashlight had been flung to the side and left him completely enshrouded in darkness.

“Oh, yeah. I, uh- Just found this place about a year ago. No one seems to use it. Thought it’d be cool to hang out here.” He responded, hands rustling through the bushes for his light. 

When he finally found it, he shone it upon his face. I chose to do the same with my phone’s light. I could see his freckles despite our distance. His hair was a satisfying shade of dark brown, and his eyes were of a similar hue. He was cute. Maybe even handsome.

“You’re definitely not wrong about this place. I spent many days here, book in hand. Good to see it’s still in use. I’ll leave you alone-” 

“No! I mean, please stay. You clearly want to be here. I respect that. I was just about to leave anyway. Name’s Wren, by the way.” Wren said while crawling out from the bush. His dark jeans and jacket were covered in dirt, but he did not seem to mind. Wren was more preoccupied with extending a hand out to shake. 

“Nice to meet you, Wren. I’m Hattie, the original occupant of this little burrow. I believe a rabbit made it when I was a kid, and then I just took the time to make it larger. Not too shabby, I suppose.” 

“No, not too shabby at all.” 

It was then that I noticed how wonderful Wren’s grin was. The upturn of his mouth made me yearn to kiss him! There were even a few crooked teeth that added to his character. I couldn’t say for sure that anyone had ever made me feel that way before, but it was a safe bet.

“Have a goodnight, Wren. Should I hope for your return tomorrow?” I inquired. 

Flirting was never my forte, but I had always sufficed. I was no stranger to the idea of a crush or a love interest, yet there was something different about Wren. Something familiar.

“You betcha.” He offered with a wink.

Definitely familiar…

Although I was confused about my intentions and possible connections to Wren, I continued to visit him at night for the remainder of the trip. Liz and I went back to Columbus after a week, but I asked for Wren’s number after our second clandestine meeting. Liz and my parents had never found out about the arrangement. Speaking of my parents, staying with them was actually quite rewarding. I cursed myself for being so afraid of them, for letting the past get in the way of the future. 

After a month of constant communication, Wren decided to visit me in Columbus. I took him around the city, provided him with a taste of the best coffee in the area, and even showed him where I worked. I was a front desk attendant at a hotel, so it wasn’t that exciting. Wren comforted me by saying that I’d find the right place for my talents eventually. There’s no hurry when you’re only 26. 

Three sensational days later, Wren had to leave. But he ensured that I was left in good spirits by saying that we should pursue a romantic relationship, and I gave him the sweetest kiss in response. How could I reject Wren? He was a gentleman, and he wasn’t lacking in the attractiveness department. There may have been an unexplainable feeling of remembrance between us, but that was the only negative! It was something we could learn to shake off with each other.

“Hattie, don’t you think you should take it slow?” My sister asked one evening.

I had just come home from work, excited to share the important news with her. I was even planning on sharing it with my parents. Yet, I was taken aback by Liz’s visible disapproval.

“What do you mean? It’s been a month! It’s the 21st century, Liz! He doesn’t have to take me on a million dates before I lovingly fall into his arms.”

“Yes, I know that. But… Don’t you think there’s something off about him? It’s like his whole world revolves around you. He’s always looking at you or talking about you. Hell, I can’t even recall a single thing about him. Has he told you anything about his childhood, Hattie?” Liz questioned.

I will admit that I took a long moment to consider her words before trudging back to my bedroom for the night. It was weird that he did not talk about himself. The boy was charming and charismatic! There must have been a million stories he could tell, but yet, he did not utter a word of them. It became an imminent quest to learn more about Wren, and I began to text him.

Hattie: Hey, I was thinking of this cute couple’s activity we could do together the next time you’re in Columbus. I kinda need to know some stuff about your past in order to make the experience more fun. Are you down?

Wren: i liked going out with u. let’s just do that again. 

Hattie: Okay, sure. Have a goodnight, my love.

That was my first attempt at wringing information out of Wren, but it wasn’t the last. It took me a month to realize that Wren was never going to divulge information about his past, and I was forced to assume that something may have happened to him as a child. I knew what it was like to have a difficult upbringing, so I was going to let all of this slide until Liz put her foot down.

“You can’t let him get away with this! He’s either cheating on you or hiding things from you, and neither of those options are great.”

Liz was right. If Wren was so set on keeping things secret, he should have provided a reason why. It was the polite thing to do. So, I soon joined Liz on another trip to Michigan, and I told Wren to meet me in the park. Liz and I arrived in Detroit around eleven p.m., but I figured it wouldn’t be unlike Wren and me to meet at such a late hour. The energy shift occurred again, but it was an unmistakable force. There could be no confusion when confronted with such malevolent energy. I ensured that Liz and my parents knew about my destination before leaving the house, gave Faun a thorough pet, and then I started to walk to the park. 

Detroit’s street lights were easy targets for troublesome kids, so I was not surprised to find myself walking on a dimly lit sidewalk. The city lights were bright enough to make the destination less worrisome, but I found myself clinging to the pepper spray attached to my car keys. Words could not describe the intense feeling of dread I began to experience as I neared the park.

When nearing the bushes towards the back of the area, the dread shifted into something bearable. Wren was there, beaming as I approached. He was blissfully unaware of the turmoil within my brain, causing me to distrust him after all the kindness he had displayed. It was rude of me to assume that Wren had vile motivations, but I had to be sure of it.

“Hello, Wren,” I greeted him with a tender kiss to the cheek, “It’s great to see you. Sorry that we’re here so late. I wan- I kinda- Dammit! I’m sorry, but I really need to understand why you’re not sharing anything with me. Is there another girl? Bad past? I don’t know, and I don’t want to keep assuming. You deserve better than that.” I blurted out.

There was no other way to say it. Showcasing uncertainty in a relationship is never easy, and I thought Wren would understand. He had understood everything else thus far, like my emotions or issues at work. To see his smile turn into a distasteful frown was not the reaction I had intended to receive.

“God, you’re persistent! I’ll give it to you, Hattie. Why can’t you just let it go?”

“Let it go? You’re my boyfriend, yeah? I think I deserve to know more about you.” 

“Yeah? Even if it’s gonna hurt to know the truth? It’d be simpler if I was cheating on you. Then, you’d never have to confront all that shit you’re constantly running away from. And your parents! How come you like them so much? It’s been years, Hattie! And you came crawling back so easily, even after they abandoned you. Want to tell me about that?” Wren asked, spit flying as he became heated. It was like he was rabid!

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t! You shoved it all into the back of that pretty little head of yours. How about I jog your memory, babe? Remember elementary school? Not the one within your ‘memory,’ but the actual one? The doctors let the tutors in at 8:00 a.m. sharp. You always complained about the start times.”

The doctors? The doctors. Wingsford Psychiatric Center. At 8:00 a.m., Mr. Massimino came in and started to teach English. He would stay until I had completed all of the work for each area of study. Then, we’d be sent to group therapy. I’d always sit next to the boy with the pretty face, covered in freckles. It reminded me of Liz’s freckles. On bad days, I’d tackle a kid. On good days, I’d talk about my favorite animal, a dog. 

When mom and dad sent me to Wingsford, they had promised that they’d visit. Poor Liz never understood why she didn’t see her sister for the next three years. Their absence only fueled my hatred for human beings, and my aggression got worse as the months went by. I had only started to improve once put in complete isolation, left to stare at white walls and eat stale cafeteria food. It was lonesome, but it taught me the value of repression. It taught me that it was okay to hide within myself until I couldn’t stand it any longer. 

I guess Wren was done suffering in silence.

“You listen to me, Wren. That’s all gone now. We’re in the real world. Don’t talk to me about that ever again, alright?”

“No! Hattie, you’re missing the point. You’re nothing like the girl I knew in there. Young Hattie was free! She understood how bad the world could be. This Hattie, present Hattie, is just a husk of who she used to be.”

“Shut up! SHUT-” I tried to scream, but Wren’s hand quickly covered my mouth.

In a moment of panic, I grabbed the pepper spray from my back pocket and pressed the button. Wren was instantly in pain, releasing me in a moment of weakness. I wanted to run, but I knew he would only follow. Young Wren was a stalker after all. Always following people home, always getting separated from his parents. I could finally remember him as clear as day.

“What about you, Wren? What makes you think being a perv justifies the way of the world? You’re part of the problem! How long have you been following me, huh? Have you come to my apartment uninvited? Let’s talk about that.”

My questions only stirred up more emotion within Wren, and he began to blindly lash out. As I took a step back, a tree branch took me by surprise. I fell to the ground. Wren heard this and advanced. Before I had the opportunity to shuffle away, he knelt above me and began to viciously shake my shoulders. 

“Be free, Hattie! Get out of your goddam-” Wren’s shouting transformed into a wail.

The wail turned into a gurgle. I kept my eyes firmly shut, giving my mind a chance to process the predicament. When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the sight of fiery red hair. Liz was wielding a bloody kitchen knife, her face twisted into pure terror. Wren was pushed to the side, and I could see that she had stabbed him once in the back. The fatal wound was a slice to the carotid artery within his neck. It was a gruesome sight to behold.

“Hattie, he- he was going to kill you! I- I-”

“Shh, everything’s okay. You saved me, Liz. You saved me.” I said, quickly rising to embrace her.

The thud of the knife hitting the ground signified the end of this horrible night. Somewhere, a bell rang twelve times. A new day had begun.

The next morning, Liz and I apologized to mom and dad for our abrupt departure. Liz had “forgotten about a group project,” and she had to be back in Columbus immediately. I, the driver, was more than happy to take my sister back home. So we hopped in the car, turned on the 2000’s playlist, and drove back to our apartment. No discussion was necessary.

So I may have lied. Wren is still very much at the forefront of my mind, but I have an advantage now. I will always know where he is. I won’t have to inquire about his location. I can always think back to the hole amongst the bushes, filled in with fresh soil. I can relish in the fact that his body will fertilize the ground for years to come.

It must be blood I’m writing in, it feels like it is the entirety of my soul and my heart. I pick up my hand, at first it freezes, but then I am struck by rage and overcome by memory.

The way Amber said, “I should have done better,” when I mentioned I couldn’t finish the report on time. But the report she handed in was fully written by me, even though she knew I had to work on it during my father’s move. In that moment I could have slapped her, I swear. Maybe slap myself. Worse, it was in front of the entire class, in front of Ms. Richardson.

 A handprint for Amber.

Ms. Richardson, who just last week failed me on my finally opportunity to pass her class, my final opportunity to not —

God I hate it! Not disappointing my parents. They’re exhausting, they’re not even perfect themselves.

Lines, they cross in the middle. An X for Ms. Richardson. 

I drag my hands against white, it leaves stains of black stripes. I am clawing at something, up the walls my hands go.

My parents always expect me to be positive, how can I? They don’t even smile at each other anymore, but I have to smile at a random stranger on the street. In case people look at me and assume from chopped hair and torn jeans I am somehow a lost cause. They don’t know I tore the jeans, so that I wouldn’t feel the need to tear out my own hair. But if they continue to stare, I might do it anyway!

Eyes 

God— And the staring. This... this part right here, tears in the eyes, for Malory. Malory, and her eyes that follow me everywhere, her calling me a “traitorous slut” and saying “I’ve changed” because I stopped going out with her and Tommy.

Tears

And Tommy, the world’s worst boyfriend. Everything from his hands and his deadly smile. I want to forget it all, and wash it from my body. I want to keep it hidden, but also I just want it all to be over. It’s like he lingers on my skin.

No, no, clean. I pick up white now, should I cover up the claws?

The tears become a river, and after

The words never again, for Tommy.

I need to grow up, they say. I need to suck it up. It is normal to feel alone, it is normal to feel alone. It is normal to feel alone, and sad, and angry, and just so utterly pathetic.

They say this is how it feels to be young, to have your tongue tied up inside you, and not a way to climb out of the world. 

I want a world of my own. When will that happen? 

I stare at my shadow on the floor for a while and force my head up. 

I look up and see my history has manifested before me, in broken dolls and pages torn out of books. I see my favorite illustration from Alice Through the Looking Glass on the floor, and realize I have become tired of believing in the unbelievable. I scan over the old dresses thrown from the hanger, and know I’ll have to pick them up later. And letters from my Grandmother I now have in the trash. A small “SOS” peaks on the corner of my windowpane, and my fan has a torn baby blanket hanging from it. There is paint dripping on my face. 

Yes, crimson red paint.

I wipe it off in a thick swipe

Everything is a mess.

And the walls.

My four walls are where I break.

Childhood. Known as the second major phase of human development, a stage of life where self-awareness and the interpretation of the perceptions and feelings of those around them help shape moral development, contributing to how development occurs both emotionally and psychologically. When being tasked with the responsibility of becoming a caregiver at a young age, emotional and psychological effects are more prevalent.

When I was around the age of 7 years old, I was called on to become a caregiver for my mother who was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Why me? A question many would ask if they had the same responsibilities and experiences as me at such a young age. That is not a question I often asked myself, instead I was grateful for it. In fact, I would describe it as extraordinary, a word that I think perfectly captures what my childhood was like, and many would differ from that opinion. Growing up in a home, here in Winchester, Virginia, was anything but normal. I was the ‘baby’ of the family, being the youngest of three. I will not lie, growing up with a sibling with Down Syndrome is tough, where you will often feel it is hard to catch a moment to share with your family. I still was grateful, as it taught me that life isn’t about being carefree, that it is a stage that comes and goes, relatively quickly if I do say so myself. Having a family member, specifically my mother, diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in the early stages of my life, was especially tough. Seeing what this devastating disease did to someone who held such an important impact on my life, was even worse. I was still grateful.

Multiple Sclerosis, a chronic disease that progressively gets worse, damages the sheaths of nerve cells in both the brain and spinal cord. Side effects include numbness, difficulty with speech, memory loss, fatigue, and blurred vision. A prognosis for Multiple Sclerosis typically results in those diagnosed needing assistance with mobility, with the use of a walker or wheelchair. In progressive cases, this disease can be fatal.

Being by her side, through every migraine, days filled with weakness, confusion, depression, extreme difficulty in moving, and many life skills we take for granted on the daily, was what I felt I was meant to be here for. In a way, I was eager to help, as seeing a family member suffer was not an option to me. I was determined to make a difference in this terrible diagnosis. By age eight I could quickly administer an IM shot, which stands for intramuscular if you want me to be technical. Being administered on an ‘off’ day as we called it, a day where abnormal symptoms occurred, were days I almost looked forward to, as I genuinely loved helping. 

Seeing someone I idolized, not only experience this, but conquer it, was astonishing to my young set of eyes. Seeing the immeasurable amounts of self-advocating, and the ability to live a happy, healthy, and extremely productive life for the past fifteen years, is beyond rewarding. Thank you. A phrase often said in my house, as having good manners was always preached. A phrase I will forever say to whomever oversees my life’s path, because I truly believe that without these experiences, I wouldn’t have been shaped into the good person I believe I have already become and will continue to become. 

My teenage years came around, and things went downhill for me, both mentally and physically. I found myself becoming a horribly anxious individual, which eventually led to depression. I understood the fact that it’s a period all children go through, but my case was worse than others. I lost sleep, hours and hours of sleep, every single week. I gained a massive amount of weight, an amount that I still to this day, am working to lose. I quickly became insecure, wearing oversized hoodies during warm weather, wearing a shirt while swimming, and eating unhealthy amounts of food until I felt satisfied, with hopes of filling the void that mysteriously made its way into my life. It was shocking to have all these shortcomings take away many aspects of life I once enjoyed and loved, as nothing traumatic had happened to me. It was a question I often asked myself, why was I chosen to take this role at such a young age? 

It was time for me to think of myself and get the help I longed for. I remember everything happening so quickly, several doctors’ appointments searching for an appropriate answer, but unfortunately, one couldn’t be given. Some people are just chemically imbalanced, where things like this just happen. With hopes of reducing the anxiety, sleepless nights, and unhealthy diet habits, I started taking a mild dose of antidepressants. I was not thrilled about this, as I doubt any child or teenager would be about having to take a pill every day for the foreseeable future, yet I was hopeful something would change, or decrease in severity.

Here I am, several years later, still taking medication. Not that it’s an issue at this point of life, where it has been implemented into my daily routine. I have learned several coping mechanisms to use when I seem to be having an ‘off’ day and realize I’m not alone. I will never be alone, even if no one has experienced what I have. It’s life.

As a young adult reflecting on my childhood years, I had a sense of relevance helping my mother with her disease. Not to mistake, that I had a doting mother who took every opportunity to remind me how special I was. However, as a curious young child, my relevance in looking back was perhaps me thinking I would have an impact on the medical field in some shape or form. I guess reading back on this, content with life now, I realize something. In some shape or form, we get so absorbed focusing on others, that we forget to take care of ourselves. The importance of self-care will not only directly affect the outcome of your career, but your life as well.

I have noticed that the world my generation lives in has paved the way for future generations to be more outspoken regarding mental health issues, however, the stigma that looms over us is still creating a cloud that does not allow us to feel completely comfortable with this subject matter. Although this could be taken away as a form of trauma, there are also some benefits to becoming a caregiver at a young age. Some may choose to let a situation like this break them down, and some choose to use it as a form of mental and physical growth. I would never ask for it any other way and will always be thankful for being chosen to take on these responsibilities. Therefore, the question is not “Why me?”, it’s, “Why not me?”

I see the fire glow, it’s elysian light piercing the dark. I see their faces. Two humans wrapped in a warm embrace. I long for such a touch. The trees stood tall and proud with their beauty that was only found in nature and words. I listen to the beautiful song the trees sing at night, I wonder if humans can hear it too. Their low hum as they sing for one another. Such a song seems to transcend life and time itself. It consists of hopes and dreams, of happiness and of sorrow. It tells a story of a mighty being my mother sang about, many years ago. The Song of the Arbiter is interrupted by a phrase; ‘Away!’ they say, ‘Away!’. I wonder what ails the trees as they have never shown fear, only love. I come to understand that the fire that dances in the darkness is what has frightened them so. Quick as I am able, I kill the flames that threaten the trees. 

A sound that can only be described as deathly and haunting assaults my ears and raises the fur that encompasses my body. It came from behind; I turned and saw that one of the humans had made this sound. I reach out to them in order to comfort the small, fragile creature, when I feel a sharp pain from behind. It appears that the other human had stuck me with something. I try to give it back, but it hurts, it hurts so much. I groan and at my wail the humans flee together….holding hands. 

After I pull the object out I sit as a red substance slowly spills from my leg. I am grateful that the injury was not grave, but as my wound heals I sit and I wonder, why? I only ever tried to help. I tried helping the humans and I tried to help the trees because they were in pain. 

Pain….all I feel is pain. The deep, sorrowful, and resonant agony of loneliness. Through loneliness, I have come to know love. I have seen love, the trees have seen it and done it, even the humans seemed to know what it was. All of the world’s creations know it and have it; all except me. This cruel world seems to spite me, to hate me! Yet this world houses me; can there be such a thing as a loveless house, a lonely house?

Loneliness seems to be my only friend. It is all I have known in life and seems to be all I will know. Pain is my life. The only thing to give me joy is the question, “why?”. “Why” is my solace. Why do they not love me? Why am I lonely? Why do I know pain? Why am I….me?

“God builds, we destroy! Ask for forgiveness, call 443-555-LORD.” The faded red letters sat on the white, background of the billboard. A picture of Jesus was placed next to the words. He stood like a pillar of holiness shooting lasers out of his hands onto a repenting soul, who was kneeling at his feet. The road seemed to stretch out forever without a bump or hill. Kent’s dashboard display in his car had been blinking red for a while, it was in dire need of a charge soon but his options were limited. Each town Kent passed was empty or a shell of what it once was. All that remained along the road were Fast-food restaurants and abandoned gas stations with the pumps ripped out. Eventually, he found a semi-opened gas station with an up-to-date charging kiosk. Kent pulled in, got out and walked towards the back of his car. He opened a flap and pulled out a battery that, when he first saw it years ago, reminded him of the rectangular box from Ghostbusters that would trap ghosts. He approached the charging station, slid his battery in and grabbed the newest looking battery in the port. The sticker logo on the side of the battery had been peeling away and the rubber hands had been picked at. He walked back to his car and slid the new battery into where the flap usually covered and returned to the driver seat.

In the car, Kent pulled his phone out and pressed a number. As the phone rang, he watched the blue circle continuously spin on his dashboard display. The ringing stopped.

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Kent, I uh called the other day?”

“Yeah.”

“I was wondering if you’re still open?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re in Crisfield, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, see you in a bit!”

The man on the line abruptly hung-up. Kent looked at his phone then back at the dashboard display. The blue circle had turned into an orange circle with an exclamation mark in the middle. He muttered to himself as he grabbed his owner manual and got out of the car. He walked back towards the end of his car, slid the new battery out and put it into an empty slot in the kiosk. Then after typing his car serial number and slot number into the charging station, he slid his credit card in. The screen on the charging station had a green “OK.” Kent put the battery back into his car and sat back in the driver’s seat. He pressed the rescan button on the dashboard display, and the blue circle instantly turned green with “HIT THE ROAD!” in the middle.

Kent did as he was told and, when he finally got to Crisfield, the sky had turned grayer than it already was. As he drove up main street, he noticed the high-water marks on each building. The high-water marks seem to get higher and higher with each house or store that was closer to the bay. When he saw the main dock, he turned into an abandoned parking lot. He got out of his car, opened his trunk and got his rubber overalls and boots out. Next to the dock was an old diner with a sign that squeaked. The diner sat empty and filled with water. The sign read “CLO5ED” followed with “PSALM 24:1-4.”

On the dock sat a middle aged man, far older than Kent. He sat with a pipe, and was scrolling on his phone. Kent approached the man cautiously.

“Hello, Are you taking the water taxi to the Smith Islands?”

“Yeah, where do ya want to go?”

“Evan’s Island”

“Evan’s Island is mostly flooded.”

“I used to live there. I just need to grab some things.”

Kent stood there as the middle aged man pondered quietly as he sucked on his pipe. Kent was about to double his fee when the middle aged man relented.

“Okay, can do.”

The man sighed and got on his boat with ease, behind him followed Kent who struggled a bit but finally fell into a seat. The boat was an old crabbing boat that had been modified to run off of steam, heated by what looked like a large heating device you would find on the bottom of an electric kettle. On top of the heater was a large metal barrel of water, with pistons and other mechanisms to help the boat power the propeller. The man put his foot on the peddle and as the water began to boil, he smiled at Kent.

“My nephew rigged this up for me!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes sir, very smart kid! This was his project for his science fair, none other like it!”

The boat ride felt like an eternity for Kent. As the Chesapeake salt water hit his face, he felt the changes that were happening in the world. The salt water reminded him of what his world once was, a time when the water was nothing more than a pastime. Now, his relationship with this water has dramatically changed.

At first Kent didn’t know why the boat began to slow down until he saw a roof off the port side. He walked up to the bow and the man stuck his head out of the window.

“Which one of these is yours?”

“The one with the flag pole out front.”

Kent’s front porch was three feet underwater. He put on his overalls and jumped in. The Chesapeake was it’s normal brown and made sure no one could see what it had consumed. As he got closer to his old home, the tip of the fence his uncle built was sticking out of the water. Kent felt around for the gate. Finally, He pulled the gate toward himself, forming little whirlpools as it flung open. He just stood there looking at his house falling apart and right when he was about to turn back the small wakes from the Taxi boat pushed him towards the house. The man just sat watching Kent, smoking his pipe, as Kent slowly walked closer to his old front door. The interior of the house was still filled with water. A few picture frames sat on the wall and whatever was in the trash can, floated in the kitchen by the front door. He walked down the main hallway to where he could see his old room. As he opened the door, he could see that all of his books and his computer were destroyed, the posters on his wall were stained with high-water marks of the rising tides. He walked past his sister’s old room to a hatch on the ceiling. He pulled it down and from it came a ladder splashing into the water. He sighed as water began to drip into his overalls and down into his boots. In his attic were moldy pictures and more wet computers. All of his and his sister’s notebooks from elementary school were soaked. He saw his mom’s old water proof phones, he reckoned they must have gigabytes of old photos still on them so he grabbed them and made his way back to the boat.

As he was still on the porch, an old Boston Whaler came roaring toward them. As the boat got closer, she raised the engine out of the water and coasted up until the boat hit land, making an awful scratching noise. The area now smelled of something Kent forgot about, engine exhaust. Kent suddenly recognized the driver.

“Grace?”

“Oh, my god Kent, how are you?!”

“I’m doing good, how about you?”

“Better than I deserve! Are you still doing that Photography thing?”

“Yeah… Yeah… What are you up to now?”

“Just crabbing and living it up!”

“Oh, did you move to Crisfield?”

“No, I live right up there taking care of my parents’ house.”

Grace pointed to a house just up the road that looks exactly like Kent’s old house. The water was licking at the bottom step of her porch. 

“Aren’t you worried about the rising tide?”

“No, it’s just shifting sands, that’s all this is. Eventually it’ll all come back.”

The man looks at Kent and points at his clock. Kent looks back at Grace,

“Well, I guess I have to go now. It was nice to see you again.”

“Well if you want, I can drive you back tomorrow, we can catch up.”

Kent turned to the man and shrugged his shoulders. The man nodded his head and started back toward his dock on the mainland. Kent then walked up to Grace’s boat and helped her with a couple of bags she had. In her house, there was a water line that was about halfway up the wall. There were candles and scent sprayers to help with the mold smell that hung around the house. Kent put the bags in her kitchen and sat down at her table, she grabbed two beers and sat down across from him.

“It’s been awhile, where are you living now?”

“I live in D.C. I walk by the Natural History museum every day on my way to work.”

“I’m surprised they let you near the place!” She laughed as Kent scratched his chin.

“Ya Know… I was just trying to impress Carrie.”

“She wouldn’t give you the time of day!”

Kent began to laugh too as the memories floated back to him.

“I don’t know why I thought crawling into the caveman exhibit was a good idea, but at the time I thought it was fool proof!”

That’s how the night continued, each one taking turns reminding each other of what life was. Then Kent tried to put his hand on his lap but, for some reason, there was a splash. He looked down to see the tide had gone up.  Grace didn’t seem bothered, and Kent even debated to himself if he should bring it up. He thought that she had been so kind and he didn’t want to be a bad house guest. Grace stood up and got two more beers and the night continued until the water got to the top of the kitchen table. Kent already had slightly wet socks and he didn’t want to get any wetter but instead of telling her the obvious, he just remained calm. Grace saw that Kent was bothered by something.

“Hey is everything okay there Kent.”

“Well, it seems to be flooding quite a lot.”

“Yeah, it tends to happen a lot, nothing to worry about though, it’s just water!”

“Yeah, I get that but um… it’s pretty high though right?”

“Hey do you remember when we would drink out by the boat shed.”

Kent let out a stale chuckle. “Yeah, I… I sure do, could we… ya’know address the water some more?”

“City life is making you soft Kent!” Grace laughed again and Kent followed behind with another stale laugh.

“Has it… Has it though? I mean this seems bad–”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a thing that the bay does.”

“Yeah, but not like always.”

“Look, I usually sleep in the attic anyway and that’s dry sometimes!”

Grace got up and made her way to the hatch, swung it open, walked up into the attic followed by Kent. She turned on a light to show Kent the two cots they would be sleeping on. She threw him a spare sleeping bag seemingly untouched by the water.

“You know how to work one of these city slickers?”

“Yeah I think I can remember… is it just you on the island?”

“Yeah…”

Grace turned the light off and the two of them dosed off to sleep. In the middle of the night Kent felt his sleeping bag getting soggy.

“Ah, what the hell?”

“Yeah… yeah… I was hoping this wouldn’t happen but I guess tonight’s gonna be one of those nights, just don’t worry about it.”

“Is it going to keep rising?”

“Um… probably not.”

Kent couldn’t sleep but he just laid there trying. Occasionally he would feel the cold water lick his back and all he could do was shake his head. After a while he started to hear Grace snore, which was her signature thing. All night he thought about his family, and everyone that once lived here. 

When the sun had risen, he finally chose to get up and take a walk around what was left. The water in Grace’s house had finally gone back down. When he got outside the sky was blue with peaceful puffs of white clouds. He walked by his old church; the door had been locked shut but a hole in the wall seemed to negate the lock. As he entered, he remembered going to church with his family and communion and prom and life. No matter what the smell was or how wet everything was he felt comfortable. He walked by the baseball field and where he’d used to smoke with Grace and her older brother. When he made his way back to Grace’s house, she was eating a granola bar that had been marinated in the bay water.

“There’ ya are! Did you get everything?”

“I think so, thanks for letting me stay the night.”

“No problem! I’ll give you a ride back. I just need to check my crab pots.”

The two hopped into Grace’s boat and drove off to the random markers. Grace would drive for a couple minutes then stop at one of her pots, then, she and Kent would pull them out. Each time the pots were empty, so she put them back in and drove to the next one. For the next hour they repeated the process, and each time the pots would come up empty.

Eventually, Grace stopped and took a break, Kent felt a bit worried for her. They were sitting in plain clothes, their rubber overalls drying. Grace sat in the pilot’s seat with her sunglasses on looking at the sky. Kent sat on the bow with his feet in the water and looking at the horizon.

“Hey, sorry about not catching anything today.”

“Not your problem, it’s been like this for a bit, I think they migrated up the bay or something I might drop in farther north next time.”

“When was the last time you did catch something?”

There was a pause, Grace looked up at the sky and clicked her teeth. Kent waited patiently for an answer, then Grace looked back down and just shrugged. He nodded his head in solidarity, then they just sat in silence. Grace kept looking at the sky and Kent rested his head on the railing looking back at his hometown. Kent spoke.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

Grace

“Where would I go, what would I do? This is all I have Kent. I would leave if I could but who's going to buy my house? What skills do I have that would earn a livable wage?”

“I don’t know, you can move in with me in D.C. At least you won’t be constantly trying to keep dry.”

Grace sighed as Kent looked at her, waiting for an answer. she just shook her head and let out a weak chuckle.

“Grace, I'm serious.”

“And do what? I didn’t get a career in Kent, I had to stay back and help my parents move, all of our assets are under water.”

“Yeah I know, that’s no excuse for you to stay!”

“I have no choice! Who’s going to bail me out? My parents didn't get me a cushiony job in D.C.!

Grace sighed and started the engine as Kent sat down facing Grace. Her sunglasses hid signs of her regret.

“Well, I guess it’s time for you to get back to Chrisfield.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

As Grace pushed the throttle forward the engine went from a putter to a roar. The Boston Whaler glided across the calm water Kent sat on the bow, his feet in the boat and his hand firmly grasping the railing. The ride back seemed longer to Kent as he sat quietly on the boat. By noon time they had reached the dock at Crisfield. The man was in his usual seat on the dock and looked over at the Whaler slowly pulling in. Kent and Grace tied the boat to the dock. As Kent got on the dock he watched as Grace pulled away.