The funnel story

A ghosts lonely wanderings reflecting on her time spent, and what it was spent on.

Trigger warnings for rape and drug abuse.

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4. The room

 

I didn't know how much time I had but I knew it wasn't much. So why was I stood outside the door having to build up the courage to go in, why was I scared? I don't scare easily, with the people I associated with it was dangerous to get scared. I told myself I was tough, I could face anything and if I could jab a needle full of filth into myself I could do this.

I opened the door and the anxious feel of the house melted away as the smell of talcum powder hit me. This room was peaceful and always had been whether I'd took the time to notice or not. There were a lot of things I hadn't noticed that I should have. There were alot of things I should have cared about that I hadn't.

I think she'd heard me come in because she started to stir in her cot. I walked over to see her and she was kicking her little legs. She was so beautiful, the most beautiful thing in the world. Just looking at her made me want to protect her from everything in the world. I wanted to hold her close to me and never let her go. It was the kind of love that hurt because it was almost too much to bear.

I think thats what the thing is about having a child, most people think the hardest thing is the late nights and the feedings and diaper changes. As difficult as those things might be (not that I did them much, I had other things to do apparantly) the hardest thing is wanting to protect them and make sure they never get hurt but having to realise you cannot and they will get hurt eventually.

I thought to myself, maybe I had been scared I wouldn't be good enough. But thats a lie, and whats worse is that is me trying to justify my behaviour and make out I'm the victim. No, I was the most selfish kind of human being there is. There is no excuse for it and there is no reason for it.

As hurt as I had been through life, as alone as I had felt that was nobodies fault and the way I had behaved in the last years of my life had affected everybody. All for what? So I could escape for a little while, but where was the escape for everyone else?

The person it ended up hurting most of all was here. I could have given it up and got better and been a good mother but I hadn't. I'd left her by herself. Again, just so I could escape from everything.

I thought about how much I wanted to pick her up and keep her with me and be that mother to her. I wanted to know more than anyone what her favourite toy was, her favourite colour. I wanted to teach her how to plait hair and try and stop her crying on the first day of school and bribe her with candy (you all do it, I know.)

But most of all I wanted to tell her I love her, and I am so sorry for leaving her. That she was the only beautiful thing that had ever happened to me. That she was so perfect I couldn't stand it. 

I thought back to that night, why had I been at that mans house letting those sorts of things happen to me when I had something so beautiful and safe right here. But I couldn't think like that. This was my time with her.

I leaned over the bars of her cot and kissed her on the cheek. They were so soft and chubby, she was adorable. I knew as bad as my father and step mother had been with me that they adored her and would take good care of her. She was nothing like me. She was nothing like my mother. I hoped that wouldn't change.

Once I kissed her I stroked her soft barely-there hair and she drifted away to sleep. I heard his voice above me saying "Are you ready?" 

I wasn't, I never would be. But I dried my eyes and said "yes, I am." 

 

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