Fall in San Diego
chapter one: familiar scars
Trigger warning!!
Self harm, bad mental health, violence
The car jerked sharply and began to accelerate before my hand got to the door handle. I managed to shut the door even as the car swerved dangerously, cutting through lanes and ignoring traffic signs with the police cars on our tail.
My heart pounded against my ribcage so hard it hurt. My head spun.
They didn't see your face, they didn't see your face.
I repeated this over and over again to reassure myself.
We just needed to get away from the police and ditch the car and everything will be alright.
My father's hand gripped the steering wheel so tight as he drove like a mad man. I wondered if it was because he was anxious about us getting caught or that he was mad at me. Possibly both.
I rested my head on the backseat and took a deep breath which didn't have any effect whatsoever.
If we got out of this I would never-
I heard the screams before I felt the impact. I didn't understand what was happening at first. I saw shards of glass spray around before my eyes closed shut. I was losing consciousness but I could still hear the yelling, the sirens, the honking of cars.
***
My eyes opened up and I sat up immediately, trying to steady my breathing. I ran my hands blindly along the surface I was sitting on. My bed.
I sighed and fell backwards causing the bed to bounce beneath me. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling I turned around and reached over for my phone.
4:00am.
Three more hours till I got up and started to prepare for school. That familiar feeling of dread and anxiety came over me and I almost screamed but then I checked again and realised. It was Saturday. I exhaled.
I tried my best but I couldn't push away the feeling of immense sadness that I felt as soon as I woke up. It was less suffocating now but I couldn't just block out the vivid images, the sounds, the feelings.
My eyes stung. My throat hurt so bad I reached out and groped for the half drunk bottle of water that usually stood on my bedside table.
But I didn't make it in time. Tears moistened my eyes and in nanoseconds they had cascaded down my cheek, dampening the sheets as they fell.
I took in a shaky breath and let myself go. I grabbed a pillow and sobbed into it. I just needed to ease the pain. I cursed my brain for not being able to block these memories out. I know the memories were going to be with me till the day I die but why did it have to keep reminding me of this incident almost every day?
Maybe they were haunting me. Maybe they hate me because of the incident. I wish I could forget, why is the human body programmed to feel a sense of guilt?
An hour later, I'd run out of tears and I dragged myself to the bathroom to wash up. I put on a bland, grey t-shirt and jeans and walked over to my table.
I sat there for a while, writing in my journal and scrolling on my phone until I realized it was 10:00 am.
I shut the journal, pocketed my phone and took a deep breath before leaving the room.
I murmured a "good morning" to my parents as I walked past them to grab something from the fridge. They greeted me cheerily and my mum asked me if I slept well.
“Great,” I mumbled with my eyes trained on the contents within the fridge. I felt my hand move forward involuntarily and I had to use so much effort to hold it back. I shut my eyes and breathed out.The...
Trigger warning!!
Self harm, bad mental health, violence
The car jerked sharply and began to accelerate before my hand got to the door handle. I managed to shut the door even as the car swerved dangerously, cutting through lanes and ignoring traffic signs with the police cars on our tail.
My heart pounded against my ribcage so hard it hurt. My head spun.
They didn't see your face, they didn't see your face.
I repeated this over and over again to reassure myself.
We just needed to get away from the police and ditch the car and everything will be alright.
My father's hand gripped the steering wheel so tight as he drove like a mad man. I wondered if it was because he was anxious about us getting caught or that he was mad at me. Possibly both.
I rested my head on the backseat and took a deep breath which didn't have any effect whatsoever.
If we got out of this I would never-
I heard the screams before I felt the impact. I didn't understand what was happening at first. I saw shards of glass spray around before my eyes closed shut. I was losing consciousness but I could still hear the yelling, the sirens, the honking of cars.
***
My eyes opened up and I sat up immediately, trying to steady my breathing. I ran my hands blindly along the surface I was sitting on. My bed.
I sighed and fell backwards causing the bed to bounce beneath me. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling I turned around and reached over for my phone.
4:00am.
Three more hours till I got up and started to prepare for school. That familiar feeling of dread and anxiety came over me and I almost screamed but then I checked again and realised. It was Saturday. I exhaled.
I tried my best but I couldn't push away the feeling of immense sadness that I felt as soon as I woke up. It was less suffocating now but I couldn't just block out the vivid images, the sounds, the feelings.
My eyes stung. My throat hurt so bad I reached out and groped for the half drunk bottle of water that usually stood on my bedside table.
But I didn't make it in time. Tears moistened my eyes and in nanoseconds they had cascaded down my cheek, dampening the sheets as they fell.
I took in a shaky breath and let myself go. I grabbed a pillow and sobbed into it. I just needed to ease the pain. I cursed my brain for not being able to block these memories out. I know the memories were going to be with me till the day I die but why did it have to keep reminding me of this incident almost every day?
Maybe they were haunting me. Maybe they hate me because of the incident. I wish I could forget, why is the human body programmed to feel a sense of guilt?
An hour later, I'd run out of tears and I dragged myself to the bathroom to wash up. I put on a bland, grey t-shirt and jeans and walked over to my table.
I sat there for a while, writing in my journal and scrolling on my phone until I realized it was 10:00 am.
I shut the journal, pocketed my phone and took a deep breath before leaving the room.
I murmured a "good morning" to my parents as I walked past them to grab something from the fridge. They greeted me cheerily and my mum asked me if I slept well.
“Great,” I mumbled with my eyes trained on the contents within the fridge. I felt my hand move forward involuntarily and I had to use so much effort to hold it back. I shut my eyes and breathed out.The...