The soft, gentle breeze lightly caressed my face as I lay on the grey slate of the roof. The faint rustling of the leaves could be heard, and the smell of honeysuckle hung heavy in the air around me. I lay there, silent, still, trying to lose myself in the beauty that surrounded me, hoping that a passing cloud might carry me away, far away from the harsh reality that lay just inside the window. But my body was leaden and just lay there as the day's glory began to sink below the hills.
When the silent, suffocating night began pressing down upon me, I knew that I had to go back inside. I could hear the angry screams, the tormented cries, echoing in the vast prison that lay beyond the open window. Reluctantly, I slipped inside, hoping to blend into the grayness and shadows that surrounded me. The noises had become louder, and their intense thundering pounded and hurt my ears. I could feel icy tears upon my cheeks, as I realized that all the brilliance was lost to me now.
The words had begun to blend together, except the slicing, stabbing insults that would not go away. I could feel their razor's edge upon my throat, and my silent cries were given volume. The sharp crack of slamming doors sounded again and again. At each noise, I flinched, shrinking back into the shadows against the wall. But as hard as I tried, I couldn't become one of them, I couldn't block out the screams or slip away.
Each blow that hit and bruised my skin were not inflicted physically. But those wounding words were far worse, for their scars would never heal. No one could see them, but I could feel them, each searing, burning word. Thrown in anger, smudged in remorse, but never fully erased. So that now, when I slip inside the window, these memories fill my head. Even though inside soft golden light may be flowing, and a gentle humming may be in the air, in the background there will always be screams of torment, cloaking shadows, and twisting daggers upon my skin.n
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.