Darkness

Krystina Franks

"Define Beauty" Yana Sperry

No amount of medication was going to stop whatever mess I was about to create, no matter how many pills I chased down with alcohol while lying helplessly in my run-down bathroom. Throughout the last week, I held onto my hope, like a girl holding on to a birthday balloon that when it failed me, old thoughts came rushing back and I couldn’t find the rusty plug. 

 

As I sit on the bed I used to find comfort in, all of his words rush through my brain like aftershock. 

 

Controlling.

Crazy. 

Unlovable.

Worthless.

 

I had built a sanctuary out of his love, but all of that is gone.

 

I plunge my face into my tear-soaked pillow, kicking and screaming like a little kid. I’m almost glad my baby girl isn't here to see my wasted self throwing a tantrum. I stare at the empty apartment hallways that used to hold a happy family. Memories fill my mind, like when we first bought the home, it's ripped wallpaper and stained carpet adding a homey appeal.

 

My mind is stuck on replay, reliving the moment of her red eyes and frowned face as she reached for me, kicking and screaming as she was being pulled in the opposite direction. When I hugged her goodbye, it was as if I could see her tiny heart break. The sound of “Mommy!” echoes on repeat in my brain. 

 

I can’t help but think how much better her life will be without a lousy mother. 

 

It's hard to believe that the broken picture frames scattered on the floor once held smiling faces. 

 

You aren’t fit enough to be a parent.

 

I think about the court case that I had just lost. The court acts like having a breakdown is reason enough to take away my kid. Did they not know what life I had lived? How many nights I spent wishing for a better life as I went from house to house not belonging? What I had given up for my kid? No college, horrible short term jobs, no freedom? And for what... for them just to take her away?

 

All the changing and bettering myself was for nothing. If I wasn’t a mom, I wasn’t anything anymore. I storm into my car, which looks as broken down as I feel. I haven't felt this low in years. I drive down the road, taking the turns and twists harder than normal. I don’t care enough to stop at stop signs or stoplights. I just want to drive. 

 

It is as if I am drunk on emotion except there won’t be a cure for this hangover.

 

At some point, I forget to breathe and everything goes black for a moment. It’s more peaceful than when the world was in color, easier to deal with. Part of me wants it to stay black forever. 

 

Perhaps it will. 

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