Memories, Scars and Survival: High School Years

Chapter 2 - Einar

Ezra's words were on my mind all day. It makes me wonder if he knows what his stepfather did to me long ago. Then again, maybe it didn't happen and dad was right that I made it up. To hell with that. It was real and I know it.

A fiery anger ignited in my chest. The injustice of it all filled me with rage. I just want to burn Coach Arnold's house down to erase what he did to me there. No one should live in that house ever again.

My soul felt like it was being torn from me again as my heart began pounding. Shame filled me for thinking about burning down someone's home. I glanced at my closet, knowing what was in there. I couldn't destroy a shirt and pair of shorts. How could I destroy a house?

The world is so unfair. I'm still scrambling around, trying to discover the missing pieces of my soul. I'm still trying to be the person I was before. "Where is he? Why can't I be him anymore?" I asked myself yet again.

I remember blaming my clothes. I remember tearing them off all those years, wanting to burn them to nothing. It was the first time I ever wanted to die. I'm too catholic to do it myself, but why couldn't he kill me?

Needing to stop thinking about all this and to forget for a day or two, I climbed into the shower before mom got home or dad woke up. They thought it was a waste of money to shower twice in a day.

Climbing in, I burnt away all the tears struggling to be free and tried to push all that shame and sorrow down deep. Thinking it worked, I relaxed my face and body and closed my eyes. I broke down against the shower wall as water cascaded down the back of my head.

What they left of my heart and soul broke apart again. I imagined myself falling deep into the depths of Tartarus. I just knew I would never heal this agony inside me. Time will fix nothing.

Minutes later, I heard the front door closing. Quickly pulling myself back together before getting in trouble, I put my face under the stream, burning away the evidence of my weakness. I pulled my clothes back on as if I was pulling the remaining pieces of my heart and soul back together.

Looking in the mirror, the boy looking back had eyes that spoke of his darkness. Footsteps echoed from downstairs and I heard cupboards closing as mom began cooking dinner. Back in my room, looking at the clock, I realized it couldnt be mom. She should still be at work.

Going downstairs, I found dad making dinner. I didn't even notice he wasn't home before. It must not have been the front door, but the garage door I heard close.

Eirik was watching television in the family room, and I joined him. I would be safer in the same room as him. As we sat there on opposite couches, I wrapped the four fingers of my right hand tight around my left middle finger. Then I dug my right thumb deep into the pressure point below my left thumb.

The pain became sharper the longer and deeper I dug in. I closed my eyes and let the rest of my body relax. All the pain and sadness that clouded my mind before was gone with the actual pain in my hand.

My left forearm and wrist were tightening and becoming tired. I concentrated on releasing the stress in those parts and allowing the pain in my hand to dominate everything else. Ten minutes later, I released the pressure. I shook the pain and stress out of my thumb and switched hands.

Dad finished cooking us dinner before Eirik's hockey game. I wished I could stay home but dad wouldn't let me. When going out to the car, he placed his hand on my back when walking out the door.

A sharp and burning pain radiated from his touch. Once he took his hand away, I attempted to rub the pain away. It made it worse as the pain spread throughout the skin and to the bone. My skin felt like it was on fire. I know he wasn't trying to hurt me, this time, but his touch always does this.