The Fear Inside

Curled up on the couch,
blanket draped over me
securely.
I'm safe,
alone,
untouched,
unharmed,
Safe.

The phone rings.

Answer it.

Sweetie, we're going to go get shots.

Agree.

Numbly put the phone back.

Take deep breaths.

Safety dissolves.

You feel violated – untouched no more.

Harm is coming your way.

Take deep breaths –
Screw that!

Can't focus, can't think.

Blind fear
think
think
think
think

Stop.

She's outside in the car,
honking the horn and
now the noise seems three
times as loud as it would
be normally. And as it
bounces around in your
head your heart begins to pound.

There's no way out. You have to find an escape, but you can only find one shoe and put it on, one at a time. Then your jacket.

Then you find something else –
who knew you were really the scarf type? –
and you put it on with robotic movements
that might make a snail look fast.

Then you walk out. One foot in front of the other. You don't want to – you can't – but you are.

The car ride is silence on your part.
Listen to your brother complain
about what he does and does not
want to do. Listen to him talk over
and over
and over
and over
again about the exact thing you don't
want to think about.

Needles are stupid, Mom. I know, sweetheart, but you need to do this so you don't get sick.

Think to yourself that you would
rather face the sickness than the pain
the anxiety
the heart-pounding-skull-shattering-fear-polluting
thoughts you are banging around in
your head right now.

Think to yourself that you would rather be able to talk instead of having your throat forced closed by the ball of tears fear bile blood and god knows what else right now.

She pulls in.

The car stops.

She tells you to get out.

Numbness would be a blessing now.

She tells you again,

Get out.

You nod.

You move.

What the hell am I doing?

You follow.

Your fists ball.

Shoulders tense.

Body trembles.

Whiteness blinds you.

The damn office surrounds you.

White walls White jackets Silver appliances Silver computer monitors Bland doctors Too-perky nurses.

You want to run.

Your legs tense like you might.

Maybe she'd snap,

Tell you that you had to stay.

Maybe she would yell at you.

Sound would be a blessing right now.

Sound would let you know that you are alive.
Sound would let you know that there was
something else in the world instead of your
racing and pounding heart in your already
aching body.

Sound would tell you that her pen could stop scratching across the paperwork.

Numb.
Numb.
Numb.
Think numb, god damn it!

You can't stop the thoughts. You can't stop the anxiety ripping through your being.

Alright, head on back.

You want to punch the perky nurse who dared to say those words.

Shoes hit the tile.

We're moving again.

Shoes click.
Clack.

Sound, at least.

Then you're there.

The doctor smiles

You want to bit his face off.

He beckons you forth.

You ignore at first,

Thinking he meant the other sibling.

Then you realize –

You've spaced out. He did mean you. Sibling #2 already went.

Think numb.
Think numb.
Think numb.

Was there any way to escape this?

Is there a window nearby?

Maybe you could break and arm.

Maybe that would distract you.

Is there any way out?

And then you see it.

The tears well in your eyes.

Your heart is racing a million miles per second.

You think you would rather faint.

You think you would rather die.
Think numb.
Think numb.
Think numb.

You feel it enter.

You can hear the god damn thing click.

You can feel the liquid enter your system.

You can feel the overload of emotions come tumbling out.

But you don't let them. You hold them in. Brave face, right?

You get home. Somehow. Then all you know is your room is surrounding you. You sit at your computer and watch as your fingers form this poem. You can only think that you are glad to have familiar walls around you. You stop paying attention to your thoughts and only to the formatting of this poem – something to keep your mind occupied, right? – and then you think that you really ought to puke.

You think you really ought to purge your internal organs of the hell that the emotions have wreaked on them. So you do.

And then you wonder what toy to grab for comfort as you slide down onto your bed, shut the laptop and cry yourself to sleep. You think that you would rather like to be alone. You know you should be alone.

But the needle touched your skin. You're tainted now.

The fear is still inside you.