Dear Michael-
This is such a hard letter to write, and I know you'll never read it. That makes it all the worse. You know the story and you know the truth, but you refuse to accept it. You are my brother. You don't have to believe me. You don't have to believe anyone. I know that you were raised by another man. I know that he is your father. However, the fact remains. The blood running through your veins is similar to mine. Our DNA is similar. We are forever linked, even if you don't want to accept that.
I wish you would take a moment to look at yourself. I wish that you could see how you look just like Ty. I wish you could see the same ears, the same face shape, and the same nose. All traits you both inherited from my father. I'm glad that you and Ty know one another. I'm glad that you are friends, even if you refuse to accept that you are truly brothers. I envy him for knowing you.
You will never know how much this eats at me. You will never know how many days I spend wishing that you would give me a chance. I just want to get to know you. I want to know my brother, and I want him to know who I am as well. Stop pushing me away. Stop being afraid. Just open your eyes to a new experience. I'm not going to take your sisters' place. I'm not going to make you forget your family.
The brothers and sisters that you grew up with, well they're no different than I am. They are half siblings, just like me. They are your mothers children, and we are my fathers children. We share the same father. How that can mean nothing to you is beyond me.
I spend every day wondering about you. I wonder how you were raised, what your mother is like, and who you are. I wonder what you like, who your favorite band is, and what type of ramen noodle you think is best. I check out your facebook page, and think up questions to ask you. You can hate me all you want. You can call me a liar, but I speak the truth. You should ask your mom for the papers. My father signed over his rights to you because he was still a married man. Unfortunately for him, you cant make a mistake like that and expect to be forgiven. Not only did he lose you, but he lost my mother as well. In turn, that made us lose you.
I wish there were different circumstances. I wish you believed me. I wish you knew or understood how heavily this weighs on my heart. But, you don't. You are only 19, and you want to go on living blissfully unaware of everyone around you. Your days are spent drinking and smoking, much like your brother and biological father. All I know is that I pray one day, you will stand up and realize that what I'm saying makes sense. I hope that one day, you will listen to your friends who tell you that you look "Just like that Boom kid." Because, you share his genes, just as you share mine. So, I will wait patiently and hope that one day, I can be a part of your life. I already love you and I don't even know you.
Always and Forever
Your big sister...
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Savannah
Dear Reader:
This is my first draft of this story. It's a little too wordy, so I will try to fix that later on. Be warned this is a sad, dark story that you should read at your own risk.
-S.V.
My Savannah was a young girl, just fifteen years of age. Her latest birthday party had been held at a skate park just hours earlier. Her friends and family had all attended, but when the street lights came on most of the kids had to go home. She had begged me to let her stay. She saw how cool the other kids looked with their skate boards, trick bikes, and roller blades. Plus, she wanted desperately to garner the attention of a certain high school boy named Brian. She didn't think I noticed, but I did. She had spent countless hours sitting at this skate park without incident in the past, so I saw no reason that this time should be different. I agreed to go home without her.
As midnight rolled around, I began to worry. This was unlike Savannah. She was never the type to stay out late. She was always home by her ten o'clock curfew. I had always thought that I was being so generous with her. "Not many girls your age are lucky enough to have such a late curfew," I would say. The only reply I ever received was an eye roll. As the hours passed slowly, my concerns turned into panic. I didn't know what to do. I knew that if I called the police they would tell me that my daughter was simply a run away. I had no faith in the justice system anyways. So, I waited.
At five thirty in the morning the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat as I thought about my daughter. I quickly answered the phone with a lump in my throat, and a racing heart.
"Is this Maria Bennet?" -The voice on the other line asked hesitantly.
"Yes, yes, yes this is Maria Bennet! What's happened?"
"Miss Bennet, we've found your daughter. She is currently at Belleview medical center getting checked out. She's asking for you."
Just then, I burst into tears. I couldn't ask for details. I couldn't even speak. I just listened to the voice on the other line, as he explained to me what had happened. I quickly thanked the officer for the information, asked him for the hospitals address, and left the house still in my ratty old pajamas.
The drive to the hospital was a blur. I could remember running red lights, and street cameras photographing my license plates in order to ticket me for my reckless driving. I could remember cutting off a green station wagon, and not caring when the driver showed her a less than friendly gesture over the incident. I didn't give a damn who I upset, who I insulted, or how many tickets I got. All I cared about right then was my daughter. My sweet, innocent Savannah.
Once I arrived at the hospital, I parked in a no parking zone and rushed inside. Before I knew what I was doing, I had forcefully thrust my hands onto the receptionists desk, and had begun questioning where my daughter was. The receptionist asked me to calm down, so she could better understand what I was saying. I hadn't noticed it before, but I had become hysterical.
As I slowly tried to calm myself, I once again asked where my daughter was. The receptionist paged the on call doctor, and had him take me down to Savannahs room. I didn't know why my baby was in the hospital. I didn't even care what the reasons were. I just wanted to know that my daughter was okay.
The hospital door opened, and there she was. My beautiful daughter, sleeping soundly on a tiny hospital cot. She looked like an angel as she slept, just the way she always had. This time however, she was hooked up to several noisy machines. Her face was bruised, her lips were cracked, and there were ivs sticking out of her arms. It was alarming to see my only daughter this way, so I just sat and wept quietly to myself.
Hours later, Savannah awoke. At the sight of me by her bedside, she burst into tears. She wanted so badly to tell me what happened. She wanted so badly for me to make things right, but I couldn't. She had begged the doctors not to tell me what had happened to her. She told me that the words would come, in due time.
The Ivs that were sticking out of her arms made it difficult, but I still found a way to hug her. I couldn't believe that just twenty four hours earlier, she was celebrating her fifteenth birthday with friends. I couldn't believe the events that unfolded on the eve of her birthday. I couldn't believe it, and I simply didn't want to.
The hours turned into days, and Savannah remained at the hospital. I called into work and let them know what was going on. They agreed to give me personal time off, so I could be with my daughter. I never left her side, except to run to the house and get her favorite stuffed animal. She loved Mr. Binky, and she had since infancy. She would never admit to her friends that she still carried around a stuffed animal, but I could see that my baby was in pain. I knew that Mr. Binky would help soothe her.
Nearly three days after the incident occurred, one of Savannah's doctors pulled me off into the hallway. He wanted to know if she had told me yet what happened to her. I felt ashamed when I told him that she hadn't given me the details yet. He gave me a concerned look, as he gnawed on his upper lip. I was told that another doctor would be coming down to speak with me, and that I could go back into Savannah's room until he arrived.
I was beginning to panic. Would Savannah ever tell me what was wrong? Would she ever tell me what happened to her that night? Her bruises were fading, but still prominent. They were a constant reminder of the secret she was keeping from me. I wanted so badly to hold her and comfort her, but at the same time I wanted to shake her until she told me what happened. Instead, I patiently sat by her bedside, once again holding her hand.
After a few hours had passed, Savannah drifted off to sleep. She wasn't eating, and she cried any time I left the room. She never wanted to be left alone with any of the hospital staff, and she refused to speak to nearly anyone. I pried our fingers apart, and went to the bathroom to freshen up, because I knew this would be my only chance to do so. Just then, there was a knock on the door. I peeked around the corner to see another man in a white lab coat beckoning me.
I tiptoed out the door to meet with the young doctor. I noticed that his name badge was different than the other doctors in the hospital. He looked at me with concerned brown eyes, and told me that if my daughter didn't talk to someone soon, they would have to recommend that she be placed in a mental health facility until she opened up. I was shocked, terrified, angered, and mortified. What kind of a monster would recommend a fifteen year old girl be put into lock down? I wouldn't allow them to put my Savannah in some sort of home where they would shove medication down her throat, and make her participate in group therapy. I stormed away from the doctor, and watched as he sulked away with his eyes on the ground.
I barged back into Savannah's room, not trying to remain quiet this time. I shook her until she woke up, and I started to question her. I could tell that she was confused, as she rubbed her eyes and looked around. I couldn't help myself anymore, and I just persisted more and more. I begged her to tell me what happened. I screamed at her. I cried until my eyes were sore. She just stared at me. I dropped to my knees and begged her to let me help her, but she once again looked right through me with a blank stare. Finally, I told her that if she didn't tell me what had happened, I would have no choice but to send her away. And with that, tears began to fall from her eyes.
"Mommy," She said to me in a wavering voice, "I don't want you to be upset with me."
I looked at her with great concern, and I felt my eyes fill up with tears once more. My voice was just as shaky as hers.
"Savannah, you know that no matter what happened, I will love you. This was not your fault, whatever happened, wasn't your fault. Someone else hurt you. Someone else put you here. The only anger I will feel is towards that person. Just please baby, please tell me what I can do to help!"
My sweet Savannah sat in bed crying, picking the pink nail polish off her index finger. She always did things like that when she was nervous, so I didn't press her for any more information. I let her take her time, even though it was killing me. I let her spend the next fifteen minutes tearing nail polish off of her finger nails, only glancing up at me occasionally. Finally, she cleared her throat.
"Mom. I don't know how to tell you this, and I really don't want to talk about it. I'm only telling you, because if I don't, I know I will be sent away. I want to close my eyes mommy. I want to close them tight and wish away all of this. I want it all to be a horrible dream, but I know it's real. I don't want you to know any of this mom, but I know that I have to tell someone. Please don't be mad."
I looked at her with horror and concern on my face. What could have happened? What could have gone so terribly wrong. What kind of monster hurts a child on her birthday? All of these thoughts ran through my head, and Savannah continued to speak..
"The night that you left me at the skate park, I was trying to impress my friend Brian. He is an older boy, so I tried to act cool. I watched as he and his friends did tricks on the skate ramp, and I cheered them on. As the hours passed, I didn't even realize it. I was having such a great time. Soon, his friends all left, and Brian offered me a ride. I told him that I would rather walk home, because you always tell me not to get in the car with new drivers. He gave me a kiss goodbye, and I felt like I was floating on a cloud. Pretty soon, I started the short walk home."
"I put my headphones in, turned on my ipod, and lost myself in my favorite song. When I was only a few blocks from home, I felt someone grab me. I never got to see his face mom, but he punched me the second I spun around. I fell to the ground, and three other boys came to help him. I didn't try to get up, because I was too afraid of what they would do to me. Instead, I kept my face down on the ground and I cried. They heard me crying mommy, and they kept beating me. One boy stole my ipod, my cell phone, my purse, and even the shoes off my feet. He took off running, and demanded the other boys follow, but they didn't. Before I knew what was happening, they had my pants off. I closed my eyes as tight as I could and thought about being anywhere but there. I cried loudly into the cold, rough pavement. The boys took turns with me, and when they were finished, they beat me again."
I stared at her as I tried to get the strength to move my mouth. I couldn't form words, I couldn't comprehend. I was completely numb.
"Mom, Brian tried to call my cell phone because he knew that I was walking home. He wanted to make sure I got home safely, and when he couldn't reach me he got worried. He drove all around the skate park looking for me, and when he finally found me, he called 911. I was so afraid of what those boys might do to me again, that I never even moved. I was still on the pavement, crying silently. I had managed to pull my pants back up, but they were torn and tattered. Brian got out of his car and sat with me as I wept, waiting for the ambulance. But mommy, that's not the worst part...." And with that, her voice trailed off.
I searched my mind trying to think of anything that could be worse than what my daughter had just told me. I searched my mind trying to come up with some sort of rationalization, but I couldn't think of anything. I managed to muster the strength to ask her, "What's the worst part then baby? What could be worse than that?"
Savannah looked away ashamed. She didn't want to tell me the last part of the story. She didn't want me to know the ending. What could be worse than what she had gone through? What could be worse than being raped ? What other horrific trials would my fifteen year old daughter have to endure?
Just then Savannah looked at the ground, and whispered just loud enough for me to hear her.
"Mom, none of them used protection. I didn't want to lose my virginity this way. I don't know what to do. The doctors ran a rape kit, and they helped me file a police report. But.....mom, you know I'm against abortion. So I.....I uhm....I turned them down when they tried to give me the abortion pill."
My face went white. I couldn't breathe. I sat there in stunned silence. I wanted to scream, fight, kick, and yell. I wanted to tell Savannah how stupid she was for turning down those pills, but I knew better. Savannah was a strong girl, with strong beliefs. I knew there was no changing her mind. Finally, it dawned on me what it was exactly that Savannah was trying to tell me..
...And we wouldn't know the answer to our questions for weeks.
This is my first draft of this story. It's a little too wordy, so I will try to fix that later on. Be warned this is a sad, dark story that you should read at your own risk.
-S.V.
My Savannah was a young girl, just fifteen years of age. Her latest birthday party had been held at a skate park just hours earlier. Her friends and family had all attended, but when the street lights came on most of the kids had to go home. She had begged me to let her stay. She saw how cool the other kids looked with their skate boards, trick bikes, and roller blades. Plus, she wanted desperately to garner the attention of a certain high school boy named Brian. She didn't think I noticed, but I did. She had spent countless hours sitting at this skate park without incident in the past, so I saw no reason that this time should be different. I agreed to go home without her.
As midnight rolled around, I began to worry. This was unlike Savannah. She was never the type to stay out late. She was always home by her ten o'clock curfew. I had always thought that I was being so generous with her. "Not many girls your age are lucky enough to have such a late curfew," I would say. The only reply I ever received was an eye roll. As the hours passed slowly, my concerns turned into panic. I didn't know what to do. I knew that if I called the police they would tell me that my daughter was simply a run away. I had no faith in the justice system anyways. So, I waited.
At five thirty in the morning the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat as I thought about my daughter. I quickly answered the phone with a lump in my throat, and a racing heart.
"Is this Maria Bennet?" -The voice on the other line asked hesitantly.
"Yes, yes, yes this is Maria Bennet! What's happened?"
"Miss Bennet, we've found your daughter. She is currently at Belleview medical center getting checked out. She's asking for you."
Just then, I burst into tears. I couldn't ask for details. I couldn't even speak. I just listened to the voice on the other line, as he explained to me what had happened. I quickly thanked the officer for the information, asked him for the hospitals address, and left the house still in my ratty old pajamas.
The drive to the hospital was a blur. I could remember running red lights, and street cameras photographing my license plates in order to ticket me for my reckless driving. I could remember cutting off a green station wagon, and not caring when the driver showed her a less than friendly gesture over the incident. I didn't give a damn who I upset, who I insulted, or how many tickets I got. All I cared about right then was my daughter. My sweet, innocent Savannah.
Once I arrived at the hospital, I parked in a no parking zone and rushed inside. Before I knew what I was doing, I had forcefully thrust my hands onto the receptionists desk, and had begun questioning where my daughter was. The receptionist asked me to calm down, so she could better understand what I was saying. I hadn't noticed it before, but I had become hysterical.
As I slowly tried to calm myself, I once again asked where my daughter was. The receptionist paged the on call doctor, and had him take me down to Savannahs room. I didn't know why my baby was in the hospital. I didn't even care what the reasons were. I just wanted to know that my daughter was okay.
The hospital door opened, and there she was. My beautiful daughter, sleeping soundly on a tiny hospital cot. She looked like an angel as she slept, just the way she always had. This time however, she was hooked up to several noisy machines. Her face was bruised, her lips were cracked, and there were ivs sticking out of her arms. It was alarming to see my only daughter this way, so I just sat and wept quietly to myself.
Hours later, Savannah awoke. At the sight of me by her bedside, she burst into tears. She wanted so badly to tell me what happened. She wanted so badly for me to make things right, but I couldn't. She had begged the doctors not to tell me what had happened to her. She told me that the words would come, in due time.
The Ivs that were sticking out of her arms made it difficult, but I still found a way to hug her. I couldn't believe that just twenty four hours earlier, she was celebrating her fifteenth birthday with friends. I couldn't believe the events that unfolded on the eve of her birthday. I couldn't believe it, and I simply didn't want to.
The hours turned into days, and Savannah remained at the hospital. I called into work and let them know what was going on. They agreed to give me personal time off, so I could be with my daughter. I never left her side, except to run to the house and get her favorite stuffed animal. She loved Mr. Binky, and she had since infancy. She would never admit to her friends that she still carried around a stuffed animal, but I could see that my baby was in pain. I knew that Mr. Binky would help soothe her.
Nearly three days after the incident occurred, one of Savannah's doctors pulled me off into the hallway. He wanted to know if she had told me yet what happened to her. I felt ashamed when I told him that she hadn't given me the details yet. He gave me a concerned look, as he gnawed on his upper lip. I was told that another doctor would be coming down to speak with me, and that I could go back into Savannah's room until he arrived.
I was beginning to panic. Would Savannah ever tell me what was wrong? Would she ever tell me what happened to her that night? Her bruises were fading, but still prominent. They were a constant reminder of the secret she was keeping from me. I wanted so badly to hold her and comfort her, but at the same time I wanted to shake her until she told me what happened. Instead, I patiently sat by her bedside, once again holding her hand.
After a few hours had passed, Savannah drifted off to sleep. She wasn't eating, and she cried any time I left the room. She never wanted to be left alone with any of the hospital staff, and she refused to speak to nearly anyone. I pried our fingers apart, and went to the bathroom to freshen up, because I knew this would be my only chance to do so. Just then, there was a knock on the door. I peeked around the corner to see another man in a white lab coat beckoning me.
I tiptoed out the door to meet with the young doctor. I noticed that his name badge was different than the other doctors in the hospital. He looked at me with concerned brown eyes, and told me that if my daughter didn't talk to someone soon, they would have to recommend that she be placed in a mental health facility until she opened up. I was shocked, terrified, angered, and mortified. What kind of a monster would recommend a fifteen year old girl be put into lock down? I wouldn't allow them to put my Savannah in some sort of home where they would shove medication down her throat, and make her participate in group therapy. I stormed away from the doctor, and watched as he sulked away with his eyes on the ground.
I barged back into Savannah's room, not trying to remain quiet this time. I shook her until she woke up, and I started to question her. I could tell that she was confused, as she rubbed her eyes and looked around. I couldn't help myself anymore, and I just persisted more and more. I begged her to tell me what happened. I screamed at her. I cried until my eyes were sore. She just stared at me. I dropped to my knees and begged her to let me help her, but she once again looked right through me with a blank stare. Finally, I told her that if she didn't tell me what had happened, I would have no choice but to send her away. And with that, tears began to fall from her eyes.
"Mommy," She said to me in a wavering voice, "I don't want you to be upset with me."
I looked at her with great concern, and I felt my eyes fill up with tears once more. My voice was just as shaky as hers.
"Savannah, you know that no matter what happened, I will love you. This was not your fault, whatever happened, wasn't your fault. Someone else hurt you. Someone else put you here. The only anger I will feel is towards that person. Just please baby, please tell me what I can do to help!"
My sweet Savannah sat in bed crying, picking the pink nail polish off her index finger. She always did things like that when she was nervous, so I didn't press her for any more information. I let her take her time, even though it was killing me. I let her spend the next fifteen minutes tearing nail polish off of her finger nails, only glancing up at me occasionally. Finally, she cleared her throat.
"Mom. I don't know how to tell you this, and I really don't want to talk about it. I'm only telling you, because if I don't, I know I will be sent away. I want to close my eyes mommy. I want to close them tight and wish away all of this. I want it all to be a horrible dream, but I know it's real. I don't want you to know any of this mom, but I know that I have to tell someone. Please don't be mad."
I looked at her with horror and concern on my face. What could have happened? What could have gone so terribly wrong. What kind of monster hurts a child on her birthday? All of these thoughts ran through my head, and Savannah continued to speak..
"The night that you left me at the skate park, I was trying to impress my friend Brian. He is an older boy, so I tried to act cool. I watched as he and his friends did tricks on the skate ramp, and I cheered them on. As the hours passed, I didn't even realize it. I was having such a great time. Soon, his friends all left, and Brian offered me a ride. I told him that I would rather walk home, because you always tell me not to get in the car with new drivers. He gave me a kiss goodbye, and I felt like I was floating on a cloud. Pretty soon, I started the short walk home."
"I put my headphones in, turned on my ipod, and lost myself in my favorite song. When I was only a few blocks from home, I felt someone grab me. I never got to see his face mom, but he punched me the second I spun around. I fell to the ground, and three other boys came to help him. I didn't try to get up, because I was too afraid of what they would do to me. Instead, I kept my face down on the ground and I cried. They heard me crying mommy, and they kept beating me. One boy stole my ipod, my cell phone, my purse, and even the shoes off my feet. He took off running, and demanded the other boys follow, but they didn't. Before I knew what was happening, they had my pants off. I closed my eyes as tight as I could and thought about being anywhere but there. I cried loudly into the cold, rough pavement. The boys took turns with me, and when they were finished, they beat me again."
I stared at her as I tried to get the strength to move my mouth. I couldn't form words, I couldn't comprehend. I was completely numb.
"Mom, Brian tried to call my cell phone because he knew that I was walking home. He wanted to make sure I got home safely, and when he couldn't reach me he got worried. He drove all around the skate park looking for me, and when he finally found me, he called 911. I was so afraid of what those boys might do to me again, that I never even moved. I was still on the pavement, crying silently. I had managed to pull my pants back up, but they were torn and tattered. Brian got out of his car and sat with me as I wept, waiting for the ambulance. But mommy, that's not the worst part...." And with that, her voice trailed off.
I searched my mind trying to think of anything that could be worse than what my daughter had just told me. I searched my mind trying to come up with some sort of rationalization, but I couldn't think of anything. I managed to muster the strength to ask her, "What's the worst part then baby? What could be worse than that?"
Savannah looked away ashamed. She didn't want to tell me the last part of the story. She didn't want me to know the ending. What could be worse than what she had gone through? What could be worse than being raped ? What other horrific trials would my fifteen year old daughter have to endure?
Just then Savannah looked at the ground, and whispered just loud enough for me to hear her.
"Mom, none of them used protection. I didn't want to lose my virginity this way. I don't know what to do. The doctors ran a rape kit, and they helped me file a police report. But.....mom, you know I'm against abortion. So I.....I uhm....I turned them down when they tried to give me the abortion pill."
My face went white. I couldn't breathe. I sat there in stunned silence. I wanted to scream, fight, kick, and yell. I wanted to tell Savannah how stupid she was for turning down those pills, but I knew better. Savannah was a strong girl, with strong beliefs. I knew there was no changing her mind. Finally, it dawned on me what it was exactly that Savannah was trying to tell me..
...And we wouldn't know the answer to our questions for weeks.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Who.
Who the fuck am I?
I have no idea. I am so far past lost, that its frightening.
I can't remember the last time I knew who I was, the last time I was honestly happy.
My daughter makes me happy, she is all that i live for these days, but what does that say about me?
I miss laughing, I miss my friends, my family, I miss the crazy girl I once was. I miss being the girl who was okay with living in a tent under a bridge by the river, just for the adventure. I miss running through town with old friends at 2 am, trying not to be caught by the cops. I miss random 3 am walmart trips in the town half an hour away. I miss being happy. I miss everything.
I miss knowing with certainty, who I am.
This has been a personal thought, brought to you by the letter D.
Sarah V.
I have no idea. I am so far past lost, that its frightening.
I can't remember the last time I knew who I was, the last time I was honestly happy.
My daughter makes me happy, she is all that i live for these days, but what does that say about me?
I miss laughing, I miss my friends, my family, I miss the crazy girl I once was. I miss being the girl who was okay with living in a tent under a bridge by the river, just for the adventure. I miss running through town with old friends at 2 am, trying not to be caught by the cops. I miss random 3 am walmart trips in the town half an hour away. I miss being happy. I miss everything.
I miss knowing with certainty, who I am.
This has been a personal thought, brought to you by the letter D.
Sarah V.