it doesn't even matter, the moments right before it happened. those few seconds of trigger, the memories that weren't encoded while my brain was in panic mode. but what happened matters. what happened, i remember.
she hit me.
she slapped me across the face. this never happened before, and needless to say, i was scared shitless. i backed away. "don't touch me," i said, panicked, "get away from me!" she stepped forward and i started to scream over and over as i kept backing away and then she pushed me to the ground and i heard lauren screaming from her bedroom. i struggled to get up, tried to get to my room so i could lock the door and make a phone call. the first try was a failure. i found myself pinned to the hallway closet door by my neck, her arm pressing my throat closed. i struggled to breath and when i got free i was screaming and pushing her out of the doorway, scared out of my mind, just trying to get to a place where i could make the phone call... i called her a fucking bitch, screamed it at the top of my lungs. after she hit me, i had no intentions of holding back. i pushed my way past her and ran through the house and out the back door, and immediately typed in my grandma's number with shaky fingers. i was gasping between sobs when i said, "mom hit me, please come get me..." i heard her tell my grandpa to come get me and she said he'd be right there. i ran out into the street, shoeless, sockless, braless, and hid behind my next door neighbor's truck, panting. i couldn't believe she hit me.
the garage door opened and i thought i was going to have a heart attack. i sprinted down the street and hid behind a bush, silently begging that she hadn't seen me, silently willing my grandpa to show up. then he finally did. never in my life had i seen a minivan drift around a corner, until sunday. my grandpa tore up the street and pulled into my driveway. i saw lauren get into the passenger seat as i ran up the street and got inside. we drove away. away. safe.
as i stepped into my grandparents' house, the phone rang in my grandma's hand. she answered it, and i could immediately tell from the tone in her voice that it was my mother. "well you can go ahead and call the police because i'm already planning to call social services. i don't even want to talk to you." she hung up on her. if i wasn't so upset and shaken, i would have been cheering her. we went upstairs and i sat in the living room with lauren. eventually she came and sat on my lap and i held her, trying not to cry, trying to be strong for her. i was holding to that effort pretty well until she said, "nikki, your neck's all red. did mom choke you?" all i could do was nod as the tears started flowing again.
then the cops came. i told the police officer the whole story, but he didn't seem convinced. he asked me if i hit her, and i said no. he said, "how do you explain the red marks on her face and neck then?" i simply restated, i didn't hit her. when it came to the point that the officer was saying i couldn't legally be kept away from my mother, my grandpa intervened, and it was decided that me and lauren would stay at my godparents' house that night. the police officer took me aside and explained to me that my mother and i were both being charged with domestic assault.
i couldn't believe it.
i'd done nothing wrong. i'd only pushed her away. she hit me. she CHOKED me. and i was getting blamed for it?
lauren and i went back to our house to pack a bag for the night. we waited for my goddad's sister to show up to stay with my mom and daisy (excuse me, but how FUCKED UP is it that they would leave a BABY with a woman who just BEAT AND CHOKED her daughter???). then we drove to my godparents' house. it was the most awkward night of my life. i felt uncomfortable. unwelcome. i asked my goddad if he blamed me, and he said he didn't know who to believe. when my godmom showed up later that night, she didn't seem happy with me, and when i asked her if she was mad at me, she said yes.
the next morning my dad picked me up to take me to school, 4 hours after he got home from washington d.c., where he'd been sent for work. he'd had to find a flight back home as soon as he landed and found out what happened. i asked if he was mad at me, and he said "you shouldn't have hit your mom." when i told him i didn't, he said he didn't know who to believe. when i told him she'd choked me, he said she hadn't mentioned that part. well of course she hadn't. who's going to admit they choked their child? especially when they're mentally unstable and will do anything to take the blame away from themselves in any situation.
the only comfort i have had since It Happened was yesterday morning, when molly came up to school to see me before i had to go to class. we sat in her moms car and smoked and talked and it felt good just to be with her. but it wasn't long enough.
my dad picked me up from school. we talked a bit, and he still didn't believe me. he told me, "you hate your mother so much, that it wouldn't surprise me if you lied about this just to get away from her."
a shout to the world:
I'M NOT LYING!
a social worker showed up at our house yesterday. i listened to her talking to her and i heard every single lie. that i hit her first. that i had gone crazy and she was restraining me. she mentioned the cutting, the bulimia, everything possible to make me out to be the crazy, out-of-control teenager who went batshit and beat up her mom. when i told the social worker my side of the story, she said that she believed both of us, that things simply got out of hand, that i couldn't legally be separated from my mother with what was currently on the records.
i thought, so basically, nothing happens. nothing changes. i'm stuck here. with HER. i haven't even talked to her since It Happened. no one believes the truth except my grandparents, who she forbids me to see because she is so angry with them for saving me. my own dad won't believe the truth. everyone's angry with me and i feel like everyone just sees me as this burden on them, some unwanted drama interrupting their day-to-day lives.
it's just one of those things that you see coming, you know it's coming, but when it finally happens, you don't know how to take it. or it doesn't go as you planned. what do you do when you have been wronged and the law isn't on your side? the logic should be simple: adult hits child --> adult loses all rights to child.
well in my mind, she lost all her rights the moment her hand hit my face. she's not my mother. i never want to see her again. she's dead to me.
today, i talked to her for the first time since sunday. she was talking to my dad and i just got so fed up while i was listening to her lie to him that i spoke up and told her to tell the truth. we went back and forth and she said still insisted i'm the one that hit her, and she actually had the nerve to say "i'm sorry." it wasn't genuine. she said it out of anger, out of "i'm in deep shit" panic. i told her, "no. you're not sorry. because you're still not telling the truth."
2 hours later, after listening to her and my dad argue, i got sick of eavesdropping and took a shower. when i got out, dad told me to pack enough stuff for a few days, that i was going to stay at my grandparents for a while.
at least i'm away from her. for now. but as long as my dad still doesn't fully believe me, nothing significant is going to happen. she'll end up getting away with it. and that is so wrong.
"well i'll tell you my friend, one day this war's going to end, as your lies crumble down, a new life she has found."
***i know this post had nothing to do with ana, but it needed to be said. i guess it's an excuse not to eat, but ana hasn't been at the front of my mind for the past couple days. appetite comes and goes in random patterns and i don't find myself thinking about calories. only comfort.
as my last note, this is all SO. FUCKED. UP.