When I was a child, I thought as a child, I ran and played
and jumped as a child. But then, I became a woman. In the midst of childhood, I
grew into womanhood, sprouted roots into the soul as a dame. I looked up at
you, your face a mask of cold and indifferent amusement. You took it from me.
It was the thing that truly defined who I was. You made me who I am, and you
have never paid the price for the crime you committed. I remember-I remember
the way my grandmother’s patchwork quilt lay over our laps as you thrust your
finger deep inside of me. And I remember the shadow in the corner that told me
to kill you. But I thought it said kill you, or did it say run. The voices now
are so thick that I cannot remember what the shadow said. I think the shadow
was you.
I like to think that shadow had kind eyes and called me
princess, because I wanted the shadow to save me. I let it follow me throughout
life, keeping me company, holding my hand. It whispered into my ears that I was
special. As you took me over and over again, the shadow man played in my
peripheral vision. He waited there, as if he were looking through time, wishing
he could save me.
“Hello.” I stood in front of the mirror, my little auburn
curls handing over my delicate shoulder.
The mirror was dusty and so was the room. My father was
gone, mother was cooking something putrid in the kitchen. Maybe it was a hog’s
head or a turtle’s tail. Nothing really came from the grocery store anymore. We
were primitive peoples called hunters and gatherers. We were modern day farmer,
yes, maybe that was it. But we paid no attention to one another, until I was a
bad girl or I skint my knee. Yes, that might have been cause for slight alarm,
but not for long. I was told to go play, and I did go play. Then I stood in my
grandmother’s room and looked into her mirror again.
“hello” I spoke softly, but nothing spoke back.
My reflection was hollow and pale and when I spoke, I swear
my lips never moved. My expression never changed, not did my little curls shake
at the vibration and movement of my unmoving lips. The air grew funny and thick
with a moldy sort of smell. I looked around. There was no one in the room but
my grandmother’s crochet throws and her stacks of patchwork quilts. In the
corner was her sewing basket, a chest of drawers and a torn and tattered bible.
I wondered if Jesus could see me now.
“Hello”
My face was static and so was the dark feeling inside. I
reached to touch my chest, just below my little yellow stitched ducky on my
jumper dress. As I moved my hand to my shoulder, I looked into the mirror. The
girl that was me did not move and her arms were hanging straight at her sides.
She stared ahead with no expression. I smiled, but she did not. I coughed but
she did not. She did nothing and I wondered if she was alive at all.
Mother came running into the room and smiled at me.
“Dinner’s ready sweetheart.”
I looked into the mirror again and smiled. This time she
smiled back and I heaved a sigh of relief. Mother left the room and I sat down
on the edge of grandmother’s bed.
“Mr. shadow man, can you come get me. I think I am broken.”
In the corner, the shadow man appeared.
I like to think that it had kind eyes and that it called me
princess. It was easier that way, easier to believe that it would save me.
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