Life Without Love

Could Life Get Any Worse?

The summer after sixth grade brought new problems. I came home and my dad sat me on the couch.

"Y'all know granny is very sick, right?" He continued without an answer, "She died this morning. There was nothing we could do."

The tears came and I was numb. He placed my little sister in his arms and leaned my oldest to his side. My mother tried to hold me, but I was walking to my room unaware. I wondered why God took the person I was gonna tell the horrible news to. This caused me to scream and cry for two hours.

We loaded everyone up and headed to my aunt's house. I really felt like being alone. I wanted to ball myself up on my bed and bawl, but my family needed me.

My favorite aunt, Barbara, made me feel weird. She would be the one to suggest we go through Granny's stuff as soon as she passed. I was so scared to be alone when my grandma was now dead. She was the peace maker and that peace had been lost.

My world turned upside down that day. I realized that I was all alone. There was nobody to talk to. Suicide thoughts had trapped me. There I was in my room cutting my leg. In my mind, the physical pain was better than the emotional pain, a way to escape reality. Three deep incisions were made. Two cuts on my right leg and one on my left.

Hot tears rolled down my eyes and burned my face. I couldn't do anything, but look at the blood run and cry. The sight was like an avalanche running down a hill. It reminded me that I was still alone.

After I had watched the blood dry, I fell into a deep sleep that scared everyone. I dreamed that one day my grandma would come back and the sexual assault would no longer exist, that I would no longer be able to see my blood and feel that hurt feeling over my lower body.

For many nights I woke up and cried. I needed my life back. All of my innocence was gone. Death and invasion had come and taken my life. Where were my friends through all this?

I really only started making friends eighth grade. DeQuala Ealy, Chardonar Wilcher, and Anne McBeth were my girls. DeQuala was the type who said whatever came to her mind. Most of the time it was funny. She didn't care who was around. Your one mistake would be to make her upset. The girl was as strong as an ox and had no filter.

Anne, on the other hand, was a total opposite. She was super sweet and always put off work til the last moment. Anne was not easily angered. She was used to being hurt, because, like me, her father was absent. Whereas my father was absent mentally, hers was absent physically.

Chardonar was an awful case. Though everyone liked her, they talked about her behind her back. She had a reputation for being a "basketball." Everyone rumored she was loose, but only her closest friends (J3 we called ourselves) knew the truth.