A Bandaged Wound…

Alisa Watson

August 4th 2014
     The day was bright. It was June, the sun sprayed out heat, and the wind danced around fanning cool breezes. I was coming from outside into a house that instantly became cold as I touched the knob. I froze in my tracks as cold chills spread down my spine. Should I go inside? Can I do this? Sighing hard, I walked in to face the mundane pain that awaited my entrance. I greeted my dog, Honey, with a rub on her belly, and walked up the steps praying to avoid any trouble. I raised my hazel eyes and there she was. My heart sank and I knew that my attempts of going to my room peacefully were ruined. I continued to walk up the steps one foot at a time but slower than I did before.
      It took me by surprise, being stabbed by my grandmother. I lived with her for only 4 years during my teenage years, but she abhorred every child of my mother for reasons that remain a mystery. Her anger grew and grew everyday as I watched her. Her anger transformed from verbal attacks to punches, and then finally into this. Like a kid in the park who is running carelessly, having fun, and then falls bruising his or her leg. I felt like my wound instantly. In pain and alone, I couldn’t find comfort like the kid who probably had a parent supervising them to kiss their bruise. I was alone. I was hurt. I was stabbed.
      Everyday locked away in that cold house I constantly heard the “You will never be anything” speech and experienced even more painful events until I turned into a walking wound. Eventually my pain became too much to bear and I realized I needed help. I removed myself from the cold house into a strange, unclear environment. I was away from the abuse but still an open wound.
      I started school in September with people who became Band-Aids to me, making me feel better about myself and protected. Every passing smile I received, every hello as I passed by students in the hallways, and lunch conversations about random adventures became my recovery. My teachers’ encouragement and patience gave me hope that everyone wasn’t like the lady in the cold house.Slide36
      It wasn’t until the school musical that I felt I truly defeated the degrading words of my grandmother. There I was awaiting for our school theater teacher to call my name to come in and for me to audition. My heart sank and I felt butterflies. Could I do this? I long believed the words that I would never be anything and do anything great. How can I be accepted in the musical? I began doubting my dancing and singing skills. I mean could I even sing? What if people were lying to me? But once I got into the room all those emotions faded when I heard claps and saw the shocked look on my teacher’s face. “I never knew you could sing like that Alisa. I’m so impressed,” was the feedback I received. From that moment on I knew that I could achieve anything.
      Day by day, my memory of that painful time disappeared and I was happier. Positive. Different. There were times where I felt like my Band-Aids would come off and I would sink back into the wound that I have become. Why would I want to go back to that darkness? I am a better person than that. Everything I did during my time of uncertainty was done to the best of my ability. There I was stabbing those “You will never be anything” speeches and my smiles were abusing those hardships that I faced.  I turned those times that were once cold and painful into motives to be the best. 

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