When I was a kid, I used to watch the sky until night fall. I was obsessed by the blue. It meant freedom to me. It was everything I ever wanted. But I never thought that once you reach the sky the only route left was to fall. Fair enough. You can't fly forever. You can't dream forever. Someday you'll have to open up your eyes to see the life you are doomed to live. That's life. A wonderful fruit that have a bitter taste.
Did l fall? Was it caused by reality, dreams that had no future or disappointment?
That's all good questions. But was it a fall? Falling from a cliff may be dangerous, even suicidal tho, but, it was actually the first time in my life I could breathe. I was free all long from the sky to sea, with the wind embracing me like a bird. That feeling, that relief from all of these sixteen years that just fly away in the wind, that was exactly what I needed.
I never wanted to commit suicide. My foot slipped off and that's it. But, this moment when I thought that everything was stolen from me, that it was the end, that I might not be able to eat chocolate anymore, that was the moment that saved me. That was the moment that opened up my eyes and mind. That was when I decided to live, and somehow, I survived.
So, yeah, it wasn't a fall. It was my salvation.
Although, this story isn't about falling or redemption. It's just a girl telling a story about herself, how she died every day till her sixteen, and how she came back to life from the abyss. That's all.
Everything started on a particular Sunday.
It was a hell of a summer day. Like always, I was the good kid at the wrong place, in the wrong family. The one that actually mess everything up. The one that is guilty of the murder of her brothers, the one that was responsible for every bad day. The one that deserved all the abuses. Yeah. I was. I had no other choice than endure this family day by day hoping for a miracle to come every tomorrow's morning. No school, no dreams, no one that care enough to help.
Was I a victim? Nope. We all were. Poverty is a beast that have no mercy. When it bites my dad at his left leg, making him lose his job by the way, everyone in the family was hit by a truck. Even me. At this time I was comfortable in my mom's belly. And there I was. Unwanted kid. Prematured kid, at a very difficult, tough and hellish time. It wasn't my choice neither theirs. Unfortunate events, unfortunately brings unfortunate outcomes. That's how it is. That's life.
Dad wasn't at his best with just one leg. My older brothers tried to help as much as they could. They started to work, so they could buy diapers for their little sister.
Marcos was fifteen and Jaime was twelve. My two heroes went through hell going to school in the morning, then to work in the evening just for their little sister that couldn't even pronounce their name. It was painful growing up watching these two take responsibility for everything and everything. Even my dad's alcoholism.
They were angels, but, outside was hell. They loved me enough to stand for me when our parents wanted to beat me. Because of this, they were thrown out of the house when I was four. They had no one to turn to. They gave up on school, but they didn't give up on me, even if when they weren't home. Actually, they paid my parents to keep them from beaten my ass to death. That's why they made the good deal with the wrong persons later on just to get more money, so I could live in peace. Then they were selling drugs, until Marcos was killed when I was around ten, and Jaime get caught by the police. He died in jail.
That brings us back with this particular Sunday in a hellish summer in California. I was the little princess of the house thanks to these two. But when my protector died on Monday, dad slap me for the first time on Tuesday morning telling me that I was the one who killed my brother. "He died because of you", he said. I assumed that's why I didn't ever fight back, because I deserved it after all.
From this day my life was just a living nightmare. It's not that it was all perfect before. I had two pillars who shielded me before. But now, they are gone I was all by myself, with no one to give me chocolate instead of slaps. No one loved me like they did. No one. And that particular Sunday was just another line in my misery. Even tho it wasn't the first time I was punched or slapped, but this time, it hit me differently.
I remember that day like it was just yesterday, even if it's been ten years.
I was in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready for my drunk father. Around nine o'clock mom returned home. "Where did you sleep that night ?", said the drunk dad standing on his crutches. "At work like always you dumbass!!", yelled mom right back at him.
I couldn't tell if my dad was jealous, or if he was just a jerk. Maybe he was both. Who knows? The only thing I know is that they were lovers that were out luck at very young age. It was sad seeing them turning like that.
And has they argued again and again, ignoring the breakfast that turned cold, time has come for me to go to my job. Yeah, I used to work even on Sundays. I worked every day since Marcos died. Since my twelve, I never went to school ever again. It was such a waste to let me go to school. They would rather have my cute face out there doing whatever I could just to bring money. And that Sunday wasn't an exception, even tho it was my birthday.
When I finished putting my clothes on, I went down to the stairs. They were still arguing, and somehow, it hurt me deep inside to listening to them talking about whatever they wanted except me, their "last child".
Maybe I expected them to remember my birthday? Was it too much to expect from them? Sure. They only cared about themselves.
So, all sad, I was on my way out. But dad violently disagreed. He grabbed my arm and yelled at me "Where the hell are you going!?". Scared, I answered "to work". "To work ?", he said, " Do you think you're done here?", he said after throwing me like garbage,"Don't you think you have to clean the house first?", he said."What do you expect from this little pig ?", asked mom while eating the breakfast I cooked. "She's a good for nothing. She can't even cook a proper breakfast", added she disappointed.
How dare they, huh?
The house was all dirty and stinky, but was it my fault? I had three maybe four jobs just to get enough money to buy a pack of beer and a some food, and because of that slavery I didn't had time to clean anything. How am I supposed to clean when I have to live at eight in the morning to come back at eleven at night? How?
"The meal isn't good ?", asked my father. Mom answered throwing the meal for the ground. " You did this on purpose didn't you?", asked my dad looking down at me like I was a stray dog. "Go clean that mess", he said while hitting me with one of his crutch. " GET UP !", he said.
I was still in the ground slowly realizing that they were humiliating me on my birthday. A violent pain that came from my hair get me back in reality : dad was tiring them up.
When I was on my feet, he let them loose two secs just the time to slap me as hard as he could. "Didn't I told you must obey when I talk to you?", said the furious father. "How do you want that this idiot could understand a word you said?", replied mom.
As tears were coming from my eyes, they both were laughing. Hearing them laughing of the misery they put me in was more painful than the giant slap I just got. As I was laying to the ground, my body was covered with all sort of pain. Dad was beating me with one of his crutches, and he didn't care where it landed. All he wanted was to humiliate his one and only daughter. And once again, mom did nothing. Lucky me, huh?
Happy birthday to me? Did I look happy laying to the ground crying for mercy? Did I ever look happy in this house? Was I happy even once in my life? Was it all I deserved?
As tears were coming, my father was still beating me. "Maybe I deserved it after all", I started to think. Then a blow hit my forehead and I started to have flashbacks. Those images of my younger self were so happy that it felt like it was another person. I never saw me smiling that big. When I looked closer, I saw that I was around seven years old by this time, my brothers were still there.
Another blow took me back into reality. That harsh reality where I couldn't ever smile, were every breathe I take was poison, were my parents make me live through hell. Was that all deserved?
I had the feeling that my brothers wouldn't agree with what was happening. I remember it clearly now. They battled every day, so I could smile and have a life. They would confront my father. Not only that, but they would take me and leave this house once and for all. That's what they would do.
And boom! That little spark of a memory started a fire that is still burning inside me as I'm talking. A raging fire that nothing can extinguish. The fire that saved me from this torment and slavery. That fire that made me roar out of my lungs on that Sunday, that fire that burned all of my tears. That fire that get me on my feet standing before my one legged father. That fire that made me stood for myself and fight for my dignity, for my life. That fire that brings me to life.
I didn't go in a one and one fight, were not in a movie here, I just pushed him away with all of my strength, anger and hatred. It was he's turn to be to ground defenseless with no possibility of getting up by its own, I yelled a big "ENOUGH!!!!" at him. It merely sounded like a roar. Furthermore, it was scarier enough to freeze time. The house turned to a pin drop silent place. Mom and dad could feel my anger. It was pretty cool.
But mom broke the silence coming at me all furious yelling that I can't talk like this to my parents and blablabla. Her reaction triggered another spike of anger. I yelled back her "PARENTS? HOW DARE YOU CALL YOURSELF A PARENT!!?". Those words cost me a big slap from my mom, but I don't regret a bit of it.
It hurt. But the pain was like fuel to my anger that just exploded at this time. It wasn't big enough to make me slap her back. So I contained myself. I looked at her with all my disappointment and I left the house. She might be a very bad mom, but still, she was my mom. She wasn't always like that.
She was saying things like "Come back here or blablabla", I don't remember clearly. I didn't care at all. I took my bike and I was gone. For good.
Few minutes later I was in the streets, completely cool down with the wind touching my face, making me realize what I just did. I didn't have regret. Not at all. No pain either. I just felt a great relief. It was freedom and it felt good. Fantastic.
In a blank of an eye I was free out there, riding my bike, not thinking about my parents that I just offended, but just feeling myself. I realized that I didn't have any plan or dream. I had nothing. I was trapped in that loop so for long that I didn't have a life. This emptiness wasn't new. But this feeling to fill it with all sort of things was too. It was great until a panic rose from nowhere.
The adrenalin was gone. The stress came in. The stress of not knowing where I would sleep that day, what I would eat, they came all at once, and somehow it cut breathe. That's why I went under that tree on that cliff.
Thinking of what my life would be next was more terrifying than the hellish family I had. "What will happen next?", that was the questions that cut my breath. I went under that tree on that great cliff to get myself together. In vain. I was out there terrified by what I would be without a house, without any parents, all by myself for real.
I didn't expect that after that adrenalin rush I had earlier. But now I understand why. Back then, I had no one. I fled my house, with no intention of turning back, and it sounded good until I started to miss my room, my bed, and all the thing I had there, even if it was merely a thing. My mind went crazy and everything was confused. Maybe leaving wasn't a good idea after all? Home might be hellish, but leaving in the streets was worse. I saw what the streets did to my brothers. It wasn't that beautiful.
I never thought freedom had a cost. Then I started to doubt about my actions, about everything I did to be there on that cliff, and it didn't help at all. Leaving in the streets was scarier than whatever what I thought. I couldn't breathe. I was anxious, stressed and freaked out.
Not surprising that I felt off balance right? I did fall. I don't remember correctly the altitude, but one sure thing is that was a clear path to death.
Earlier I was on the ground, but just seconds after I was falling just like that? I literally saw my dead body in the bottom of the sea feeding the fish. I saw my life passed in an instant. Every moment, good or bad, mostly bad, every bit of instant I lived, every thing I loved, touched, hated, tasted, did or wished to do.
Chocolate was the first thing to come in my mind. Strange, isn't it? Well, chocolate was my favorite candy in my childhood. Every time my brothers were home they always had some for me no matter what.
Did I really want to eat some before I died? Not at all. The thing I wanted was a feeling. All I wanted when I was falling from this cliff was to feel happy, really happy, with the great smile my younger self had. I wanted peace. I wanted to feel alive again, just like the little girl I was.
When my brothers died, my life was divided in two halves, one for each of them. A huge part of me died along with them. My sad fate didn't matter at all. I never wanted to change it because I normalized being treated like garbage.
How did I end up thinking like that of myself ?
That moment I realized that I never think of myself as a human, the fire that brought me out the house rose again. I realized that I was human, I had feelings and will, just like the other humans. I had the right to have dream and to achieve them too. I didn't deserve any of these bad treatment my parent's served me. I wasn't responsible for all that misery they lived through. I wasn't guilty of anything.
That was the exact moment that I came back to life. That very moment that air was filling my lungs for the first time as I looked up to the sky and I said to myself My time hasn't come yet". I even smiled in the last second of my fall. Furthermore, I was so alive that I couldn't afford to die. Not yet. Not now that I just conquered my freedom.
Then I hit the water and I lose consciousness. It was all black and...smooth. It was like falling asleep.
Then they appeared just like that, without any warning. They were just standing right there looking at me like it's been a long time since the last time we saw each other. Seeing these two in this kind of white place made me guess that I was done for real. " At least, I died fighting for myself", I thought with a sad smile on my face.
"Happy birthday Rita !", said Marcos with this big smile that I missed so much. His voice stayed the same. I miss that superpower of his to make every problem fade away with his fabulous "everything will be ok!".I smiled with big tears were coming out my eyes like a fountain. It wasn't this bad for an end.
"Did dad hurt you so bad that you don't even know how to hug someone any more sister?", said Jaime laughing and coming my way.
His hug felt like a warm and sweet embrace. I missed that. Tears of joy were running all on my face. It was strange to feel all of these emotions all at once. I was happy. I was loved. It felt like home. But, behind all of these emotions, there was a remorse that didn't fade away. Being with my brothers wasn't enough.
"What's the matter sis?", he said. His eyes were softer than any touch on my face.
"Nothing", I replied faking a smile while wiping some tears away. They were started to be filled with regret and remorse.
"Rita, you know you can't lie to us, do you? You're not a liar sis. What's going on?", said Marcos. "You're not ok with the idea of dying just right now don't you?", he said again with his big smile.
How did he know?
"Worry not little sister. It's ok to not be ok with being dead. The contrary would be sad don't you think?", said Jaime while letting his arms loose. "You still have a lot of things to do dear sister. Believe me. Your time hasn't come yet", he said.
"So why don't you hug me instead? Jaime already had, I want mine now", said Marcos coming my way with his arms wide open.
I ran into him hugging him with all of my strength while I got more and more conscious.
"I don't want to go", I said out of voice. Being dead for one second might suck, but being alive out there all by myself was scarier than any horror movie I ever saw.
"But you have to darling", replied Marcos.
"What if everything goes wrong?", I said totally freaked out.
"Everything's going to be okay sis", said Jaime. "Stop worrying about what might happen or not. You have a life to live, so live it. Breath, dream, fall, rise, laugh, cry, be disappointed, be satisfied, be happy, be alive, be anything you want to. Give yourself everything you deserve. I love you. We love you. Don't ever forget that you heard!", said Marcos shedding tears.
He wasn't sad. There was pride and love in his eyes, with a little glimpse of regret. He saw everything I might become, and he regretted that he won't see it with his own eyes.
"Now go", was his last words.
Then I woke up somewhere that looked like a hospital. I was totally freaked out. A nurse came in. She was the one that made me calm down. By explaining to me how I was brought there, how I survived from a high fall without having any major injuries, and how I didn't get drown in the sea. It was a miracle.
After that, she asked me why I did that, why I wanted to commit suicide, why I jumped, and what about my family, about the wounds all over my body, if there was no one that could help me, or come for me. Then I told her all the story. She was surprised.
What happened next? Well, that's another story. To keep it short, let just say I was adopted, I discovered love, I returned to school, and tomorrow I'll be a graduated as a lawyer. So a lot happened.
Still, I had the feeling that I must come back to the place where it all began, on that cliff where my foot slipped off. Why do I come here? I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm nostalgic. If I recall correctly, it was here the last time I talked with my brothers. Their words are still in my head spinning eternally like a broken record. That make me think about mom and dad, the biological one.
Do I miss them? I don't really think I do. Will I ever forgive them? I don't know. How you forgive someone who believe that hurting you is his righteous privilege? Do they deserve forgiveness? I don't know. But sure thing is they didn't deserve us. The way they treated us speak louder than any words. Do I hate them? I don't think so. They are still my parents. But they are no longer part of story.
I don't understand how I didn't see how great the view was from here. I have to assumed that ten years earlier I wasn't as calm as I am right now. Back then, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to deal with life. Now, I know that my only job is to live, to purchase my dreams, to make me happy, and to give myself a chance to grow day by day to be better, stronger, prettier.
That's what life is meant for.
It's not a story that was written before you were born, but a choice, a risk you take every day. To be alive means to have doubt, to fall, to rise, to fly, to be, to change, to improve, to progress, and to keep going on following a dream or an idea. For me, it was a hope. A hope that my life could be better, and finally, that's what happened.
All began with a fall. Funny, isn't it? But like I said, it wasn't a fall, it was my salvation. What was yours?
© Andy Dark
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