Please stop

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 13, 2017

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Submitted: August 13, 2017



It's not the sight nor the smell of the whip that bothers me. It's not who's holding the whip nor the situation in which a whip is brought out that leaves me vulnerable and weak. It's the sharp crack of the whip that chills me to the bone, steals the breath from my chest, stops my heart beating in an instant; it chills my blood to ice in my veins, rips me away from myself, and the air suddenly stagnant, despite the cool fans running around us. I'm suddenly stumbling to control myself enough to breathe, something so instinctual that even newborns instincutually know to do even at birth yet I have suddenly forgotten after 19 years. I feel such shame for myself. I feel so much hatred for my actions. Nobody deserved to deal with me last night. I should have spoken up the moment I saw the whip from across the room, but I attempted to remain calm, telling myself the whip wouldn't crack, that the world would remain revolving. I had told my owners that whips were a trigger for me and they had seen me trigger once before, they swore to protect me against them. I don't blame them for last night, their backs were turned and they were focused on me as the whips came out. We were having fun and they were tying me, we were about to begin our scene. But then a stranger brought a whip into the room and my skin began to crawl; nobody brought out a whip just intending to eyeball it, they all wanted to hear that sharp crack. By the time things turned south, my mind was already torn; one part connected to my body and going to war with the world around me, everything and everyone a constant threat, while the other half was connected to reality, fighting to stay calm and collected. Everyone around me talked, moved, and pushed me. They all told me the same thing: breathe. All was in an attempt to benefit me but I failed to see that. I couldn't do anything but fight. That was my only choice and I feel such shame. It was irrational and stupid. I fought Sir and Miss Erica, my owners, as they attempted to free me, my body tense against the tight ropes, my leg kicking at the mats underfoot in an attempt to calm myself. Everyone kept coming so close and Sir was upset at the man whom had first cracked the whip. No, the man did not know of my fears and my owners had their backs turned. They were oblivious to the presence of the whip until it was too late, the first crack followed by two more, a rapid succession of cracks. Three little cracks were enough to bring me to tears. My mood shifting from happy to sobbing and shaking uncontrollably in a matter of two seconds. My owners were only a few feet awayb, but I felt as if I was on a different planet, completely alone, as Sir left to stop the man who had cracked the whip and Miss Erica rushed to untie me. Sir was upset over the man who had cracked the whip, someone who was supposed to be watching over everyone but was instead playing with implements and I felt pressured to calm myself, fearing Sir would begin striking me if I didn't succeed soon, beating me even after I had already fallen into fearful submission and obedience. He has never struck me and never will, I know this. But the only thing I could think of was to get away, images of me lying on the ground, curled into a ball with the evidence of their wrath filling my head. I never felt the rope burning my skin as they fought to control me and get me out of the rope as quickly as possible without having to cut it, I only focused on controlling myself until I could run. A black cloud had already begun to fog my mind, the whispers trailing off it and becoming deafeningly loud. "Please, stop." It was all I could think. Everyone was staring at me. How pathetic I was. I couldn't even control my own legs to stand while getting dressed, someone had to have their hands on me at all times for I would fall otherwise. I nearly attacked my owners when they touched me, every slight touch could be a blow despite the fact that I knew they never would harm me, never, never, never. Every time Autumn, my best friend, tried to pick me up as she was ordered, I nearly attacked her, struggling to free myself from her grasp. I felt so restrained, though she only meant to pick me up. Like a child throwing a temper tantrum, I flailed and kicked against her, Miss Erica having to hold me or else I would have hurt Autumn. How disgraceful. I felt as if I had no choice though. I wasn't ready, but it was time to move, I couldn't stay in the car forever and Miss Erica had to return to Sir to ensure he didn't hurt anyone, especially the man who had triggered me. I panicked from the moment the car turned off, praying silently that the door was locked and nobody would be able to attack me. I couldn't defend myself. The more people touched, talked, and pushed, the worse things got. Everything was part of the flashbacks. The voices, the touches, the movements. There were so many people and everyone wanted to hurt me. But it wasn't enough to see me hurt. No, they wanted to do it themselves. They wanted to see me fall and crumble to their feet, sobbing and begging for forgiveness, promising a million times over never to do whatever I had done to offend them again. They wouldn't leave me be until they felt the message had been received loud and clear, the evidence written in blood on my battered body, frail and curled on the ground. If only they would please stop. Miss Erica had never been touchy feely, something I respected and did not push. But I couldn't help myself as Miss Erica announced she had to leave, my heart leaping to my chest as she gently touched my leg. Every touch was a threat but I love her. She was leaving. I felt myself get enough control to get on my knees and grab her thighs, though I don't know how hard nor how long I held her. All I know was how badly I didn't want her to leave. She had to but I didn't want her to. I pried myself off of her, wanting to tell her how sorry I was for touching her. She didn't want to be touched today, her grandmother had passed this very day and even pushed Sir away as he attempted to hold her, trying to comfort her. And yet I forced myself upon her out of selfishness. For my own benefit, because I wanted her there so badly. But she had to go, to calm things down. Besides, I had Autumn still. Oh, how she tried to calm me. But it only made things worse. She didn't know this but her words only pressured me to calm, forcing me into a frenzy. She didn't mean to, she was gentle and kind, being the voice of reason in a hurricane of fear and flashbacks. But it did nothing but push me further over the edge. Like a horse with blinders, my peripherals were elimated. My chances for survival severely limited. Everyone was my enemy and I could hardly see half of the threats that surrounded me. Only I could save myself from this living nightmare. The more people tried to talk me down and push me to calm, the more the nightmare continued and the higher I rose. When things calmed down and silenced was when I could finally calm myself. No matter how friendly someone seemed or a voice sounded, I saw they only meant to harm me. All I needed was to be stroked and silence. My mother never held me. I was left in alone, in silence. That was when things were finally over. She never left until she was done with me. Once she was gone, the war was over and I could finally breathe again and lick my wounds. I had no control of myself or my actions last night. This upsets me the most. I couldn't help but attack those who suddenly touched me when I had begun talking myself down, working myself into a frenzy when I was talked to or touched, even tenderly as they attempted not to scare me. After flying so high, I crashed hard, my head nearly bursting when I woke the next morning. I feel such shame for last night. I don't know what I did. I don't remember attacking Sir as he tried to wake me when he came home. As gently as he tried, I still screamed, flailed, and sobbed in my sleep, blindly striking out at those who dare harm me in my slumber. I don't remember smacking Autumn in the face as she attempted to help me lie down or rocking back and forth as she attempted to get me to drink a glass of water as she had been ordered to do. I don't remember Autumn crying as she laid next to me, my hands balled in her shirt as I attempted to get a grip on reality and myself. She was so sad I did this; she finally realized all I wanted was her there. I didn't want her words or whatever she had to offer, I just wanted her there. Whether she was stroking me, holding me, or just laying there, I just wanted her there. She'd never had someone want her that way. She had nothing to offer and yet I still wanted her, she finally saw that and it broke her to tears. I don't remember how hard I had touched people or if I hurt anyone. I don't remember. The whole night seems like a flashback, and I pray I did not hurt anyone. The only one that needed to hurt was me.

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