Dream's Memoir

Reads: 193  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 4

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Review Chain


A young girl named Dream recounts a tragic memory from her childhood.

Submitted: October 20, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 20, 2017

A A A

A A A


 

 

 

“Come here, Dream!”

His voice rumbled through the silent room. My hands were covering my face; I felt the pain running through my veins. I wanted to escape this hurt and fear, but my soul was weak. I felt him moving slowly, dragging his feet along with him. The darkness was taking over and I wanted to scream my pain to the void. I felt him next to me, breathing into my space. It was heavy! The air was heavy. His hands were on my shoulders and his face was closer to mine. “You smell like roses, my Dream!” he whispered. I felt a wet touch to my skin; his tongue was tracing my jaw line, “You taste like earth, my Dream!” he added. A crippling sensation took over my skin. His hands moved from my shoulders to my own hands. He pulled them away from my face and I closed my eyes. The fear in them was loud and I did not want him seeing the depth of my feebleness.

“Open your eyes!” he hissed, “I want to see the ocean!”

I tried to block his voice. I tried to cage it into a bubble, but his hands reminded me that words were nothing without a firm grip. “Open them, Dream!” he said softly now. My eyes were sealed, and my eyelashes were sewed to my skin. The power of fear conquers the power of anger, I thought to myself! Suddenly his hands covered my face, his thumbs were pushing through my closed eyes. The pain run through me like a bullet grazing my flesh. I felt fire burning the inside of my eyes. I wanted to scream but all I managed to do was to whimper; a scary sound escaped my mouth. I was the goat for sacrifice! The goat to the Gods!

“Open them now!” he shouted, “open them and save your soul dear child”

The church bells were ringing through the silence. “Jesus is calling, Dream!” he whispered calmly, “open your eyes and wash away your sins. His thumps were still on my eyes pushing in circles. The pain was intensifying but my body had become numb. The pain was a lie! The pain was a lie! I could not feel it! In the rush of the moment, I did not feel him pulling his hands away. I did not feel him grabbing me by the arm, pulling me with him. “You are a sinner, Dream!” he screamed hysterically, “And, I am going to wash away all your sins. I am going to save you from hell, dear child!”

My body was weak and it hurt everywhere. My nine years old legs and arms were black and blue. The pain was old. However, that time it was deeper and different. That time I was resisting. That time I was rebelling against the beast. The cage was open, and I had to escape. I was not going to scream, and I was not going to run away. Simply, I was going to fight back. He pushed me into the floor of his kitchen and, tied my leg to the kitchen table. I rested my hands on my belly and, I opened my eyes. He was standing over me; his eyes were darker than the night. A weird smile was plastering his pale face; the same pale face as my father’s but the eyes were darker. The eyes were scarier! The eyes of my uncle!

In my young mind, I knew that time was different. That time, he was moving one-step further. He was not going to stop where the line of touch is drawn. He unzipped his pants and, in one motion; he pushed my legs apart with his both hands. I did not try to close them and I did not move. He was hovering over me, pushing his hands under my t-shirt and down under my shorts. I lifted my head up to the ceiling; the white was calming! And, I pulled the small kitchen table hardly with my tied leg. The table and, everything on it came down crushing on the ground with a great thud. My uncle fell on me; his weight nailing me to the ground. The table was on him and, he swore under his breathe, “Little slut!”

In a mere second, my eyes locked on the knife laying on the floor by my side, and without thinking I grabbed the shining survival; my fingers were tight around the knife. And, as he pushed on both hands, throwing the table off him, I aimed at the heart!

“The heart is a muscle that bumps the blood into our bodies, and it is behind our ribcage on the left side of our chest!” Mrs. Lowe voice echoed through my mind as I pushed the knife harder and harder. The blood was running over his chest, down my arms and into the shared floor. The blood was everywhere, and I pushed the knife deeper. I was fighting back! I was washing away all his sins! His hands were trying to reach me but, the more I digged the knife, the more he lost himself. He fell into the floor; his back hit the concert with his feet under him. I pulled the knife and, I pushed it back in again.

I was fighting back! I was fighting back!

The church ringing bells were filling the Sunday morning and, I should have been praying with my family. It was okay; I thought to myself, I was praying right that moment! I was helping Jesus, spreading redemption and washing sins. My uncle was breathing slowly and his voice was muffled.

“Dream!” he mumbled through the blood coming out of his mouth, “Dream!”

I fell to the floor, right into the lake of blood. There was a knocking on the door; I could hear my mouther’s laughter and my brother’s excited shouts.

“Mike!” my father called, “Dream, my angel, are you there?”

I was not an angel. I was the demon.

I was not the prey anymore, I had become the beast. 

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Imen Al-Nighoaui. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments