Ghosts at the door
892 Words
Dear dad,do you even remember the sound of my voice ?
The rain didn't stop that night. It tapped against the window like a lullaby for the broken .
Sienna lay on her mattress,wide awake , her eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling like they were maps to a better version of her life. Leigh was asleep on the couch, curled up with a blanket that smelled like lavender and cigarette smoke.
The kind of mix that reminded her of her mother's tight hugs .
She thought about writing. about putting it all on paper and lighting it on fire just to watch it disappear. But pain doesn't vanish - it lingers . It clings like wet clothes on Cold skin.
She reached for her notebook.
"Dear Dad,"
"I'm still breathing . That might disappoint you ."
She paused .
"Too bitter?Too raw?Too honest?"
Maybe .
She crossed it out and tried again.
"Dear Dad,
Tonight I remembered the way you stood by the door when I told you I'd been r***d. You hold me. you didn't ask who or when . You just asked if I was telling the truth . Like pains need permission to exist ."
She felt it again- the emptiness in her chest . Not like sadness . Sadness was loud. This was silent. A silence that screamed.
"I looked for you in every man I met after that . And everyone of them let me down the same way . I think I started believing I deserved it."
She shut the notebook.
Leigh stirred on the couch. " you okay ?"
Sienna wiped her face. "Yeah. Just thinking ."
"can't sleep ?"
"No. Can you ?"
"No."
They both laughed quietly, like broken clocks ticking at the same time.
"You remember that time we got locked in your mom's basement ?" Leigh asked.
Sienna smiled. "You cried more than I did."
"I was six."
"You were ten."
They laughed again.
"I missed you ," Leigh said, softer now .
Sienna didn't respond. She couldn't. Instead. She whispered, "I missed who we were ."
There was a difference .
sienna leaned back against the cold wall. Her mind raced like it always did at night, pulling her down her memory Lanes that weren't lit anymore . Some were soaked in shame. Others were just blank - moments she had locked away so deep, they only came out when her chest got too heavy to carry.
Leigh was quiet again . That kind of quiet that made her wonder if they were replaying the same memories too.
Sienna picked up the notebook once more.
"Dear Dad,
After everything I've been through ,I still wait for an apology that never comes.You blamed me for things I never asked for . Called me dramatic. Called me a liar . But you never once asked what it cost me to wake up each day."
"You sat on your high horse while I tried to wash his blood off my hands . Not because I hurt him - but because I didn't fight back I froze. Because I was too scared to scream . And all you could say was :'Are you sure ."'
"I hate that I still wanted your arms around me after that ."
She shut the notebook again.
There was a buzz from her phone . A text. Her cousin .
"U good?"
She stared at the screen for a minute before locking it again. That cousin -the one who laughed when she cried, said she was being "extra" and told her to "move on". The same one who invited everyone to parties but never invited her . Who whispered behind her back and smiled to her face .
They didn't want her healed . They wanted her silent.
Leigh stretched."You're gonna write that book ?"
"I already started ,"
"Good. The world should know ."
"No Leigh . They should know."
A silence sat between them . Then Leigh sat up . "can I ask you something ?"
"Yeah."
"What stopped you ? You know ........ the times you tried ?"
Sienna looked at her arm - where the burns were fading,but the pain hadn't.
"I didn't want my mom to find me like that . As much as she didn't know me , as much as she didn't see me....... I still couldn't hurt her that way ."
Leigh nodded . "You are strong ."
" I am tired ."
"Maybe tired is strong ."
she smiled faintly.
In the corner of her room sat . Inside : hospital wristbands, letters never sent,poems she wrote in therapy, photos of her childhood - smiling before the world taught her to stop .
She pulled out a picture. She was nine . Her father had his hand on her shoulder. Everyone said they looked alike. Same smile. Same eyes.
But she didn't see him when she looked at herself anymore . She saw scars . Bruises. And a fire that kept burning even though no one cared to warm her.
"Dear Dad,
You always said I was dramatic .
But now the world reads my drama and calls me brave .
You called me weak .
Now they call me a survivor.
You said I'd be nothing.
Now I write my own name in gold,"
- Writer
