The goal was my nervous breakdown
I remember thinking, why does Steph describe my breakdowns to dad with such worry, he tells her what will soothe me before I lose it, and she takes no steps to soothe? She gets faster and louder if I ask her "please. Stop."
It was as if the demon leaves her and jumps into me. Her face full of diseased toad, that voice that struck my courage as if I a pig carcass and she the steel rod for the spit - as soon as my eye balls started to shake with rushing vomit, her face smoothed out. The machine gun left her voice. And it was in me - me stomping and asking for help understanding the contradictions of the last 24 hours. She'd finally lean back, eyes half closed as I looked for terracotta pots to smash to make the sound that sliced through the air and would snap me out of this.
The confusion was the last straw. I hated feeling like Alice in wonderland. Everyone says my mother loves me, she doesn't want me to become the monster that pukes on herself.
That was at 4/6 years old. It's only gotten easier since then. Dad and Bok allowed Steph to leave me home alone, and the demon didn't visit Steph again until 8th grade, when Yi left for good. The demon sometimes flew into Jen. I say demon bc it is as if something temporarily takes over their body and mind.
I'm not safe here. The only goal is I die. I always knew too much. Since college, I told them I was working on a book, to share my priorities with my family when they asked what I'm doing with my life. fool I was: to a family of criminals a non-accomplice is a target. In all cars since Dad died, the AC line has been cracked. Yesterday, John's sister with Parkinson's froze when she saw me for the first time in my life.
I'm saying I'm not safe. Who decides not to step in is clear, message broadcast. Let's go 2026, it's only gotten easier every year.
