Mama, can you see me?

Mama, can you hear me?

I asked myself as I watched her from across the room, flirting with him. He looked over at me and smirked, his eyes traveling down my frame, and even in my wheelchair, I felt tiny. I felt dirty. I felt disgusting. The memories of all the horrible things that he had done to me in this same holy building rushing back to me as his gaze intensified. I opened my mouth to speak, in an attempt to call my mother’s attention to the bastard she called her priest but no words came out. I croaked like a frog, hiding my face in embarrassment as the other kids around me laughed.

I looked up again to see that he had joined in the laughter, and that had caught my mother’s attention. She turned around to look at me disapprovingly, her honey brown eyes piercing me like sharp needles and hoping I disappeared into the shadows. I was her curse. Her punishment. Her only child, and one she was immensely ashamed of. I knew she prayed me away; maybe by death, or by some supernatural force but I knew she tries her best to pray me away.

My hackles rose when he leaned down and whispered something in her ear, and then she turned to look at me, nodding her head in agreement. And then they both smiled and walked over to me.

“Let’s go to my office,” he said, and began to lead the way.

My eyes widened in panic, I shook my head vehemently, pleading with my eyes all the things my mouth couldn’t say. She just patted my shoulder reassuringly, and kissed my cheek.

“It’s just a prayer and deliverance session. He’ll be done soon,” she said.

Tears began flowing down my cheeks as the door closed behind us, leaving me and Satan’s assistant in the presence of the most high. I shook my head, and my eyes pleaded with him for mercy…for compassion. I closed my eyes as he tore his clothes off and mine…and threw me out of my chair to the ground. I looked up at the ceiling hopelessly, staring at the painting of the holy Mary and her son, asking why they’ll let this happen to me. Asking what I did to deserve it.

I opened my mouth to scream, and yet again nothing came forth. I closed my eyes against the pain in my body and in my soul, calling out to my mother in spirit. Hoping that she’ll hear me by some stroke of luck.

Mama, can you hear me?

I asked as he finished and rolled off of me, sighing in satisfaction at my violation. But she couldn’t hear me. She was deaf to me, lost in her world where I didn’t exist.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, carrying my back into my chair and rolling me to the bathroom en-suite.

I closed the door behind me, and stared at my reflection in the mirror, only able to see my forehead reflected. I pulled myself closer to the mirror and raised myself with my hands holding on to the sink for dear life and my useless legs dangling limply underneath me. My eyes were swollen, red and sunken, reflected in them sadness and pain that should be alien to a 12-year-old. A throbbing vein in my neck caught my attention. I watched it intently as the subtle movement hypnotized me. What was life? Why was it so important that I lived it?

I heard the office door open, and the voice of my mother come into the room. I wondered if she could smell it. My humiliation. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. As the breath left my lungs, so did my will to live. With the last bit of strength and willpower left in my, I smashed my head into the mirror, smiling at the satisfying sound of smashing glass. I heard the sound of surprise and shock, and before they burst into the bathroom, I picked up two shards of glass, allowing my body to fall to the ground and shoved the glass into my neck.

The glass went through my skin just as my mother and the priest burst through the door. I heard her scream and his shock…and all of it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I would finally be at peace.

Mama, can you hear me? I asked as she gathered me into her arms, pressing her hand against the shards of glass in my neck. I smiled as I felt life begin to leave me. Maybe she couldn’t hear me. Maybe she was too caught up in the noise of her life, of her misfortune, of her pain. Maybe she was caught up in the loud noises of her own demons.

Maybe she couldn’t hear me, but here, right now…she could definitely see me…and for now, that was enough.