I Didn't

I'm crying because I'm watching my mother leave. She's left me alone with him again. I'm bathing, and I'm scared. I'm lying in bed, and though I've giggled, it's a nervous giggle. I know what's coming.
I'm pretending to be asleep. I'm trying to make sure I'm breathing evenly, deeply. My heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, I want so badly for my mom to come home. I know she won't be home for hours.
He's coming down the hallway. He's in my doorway. Between slanted eyelids I can see his shadow in the doorway.
This is my nightmare.

I don't want to keep secrets. I want to feel. I want to feel like I'm normal. I don't want to be shattered. I don't want to feel like I'm never going to reach. I want you to know that I'm still here. No matter what you do to me, I'm still here.
I'm hurt. I'm sad. I'm scared. I'm all that, but I'm still here. There's got to be a reason why I'm still here.
I'm strong. I know that there will be an end. There will be a day when this doesn't hurt, where this doesn't destroy me, when these thoughts won't wake me up in the middle of the night.

I've spent the last few months in a stupor, one way or the other. I've drank until I can't clearly remember what happened the night before. I've stayed up until all hours of the night babbling about nothing in particular, or watching movies because I'm afraid to sleep.
I've brought my children to bed with me because I can't bear the thought of sleeping alone. Sleeping alone terrifies me. I'm using them as my barrier. I'm letting them be my excuse for not carrying on. For not facing what I need to face to move on.
I'm stuck. Again.
I've slipped from my track of thinking about myself positively. I can't see any beauty. I'm avoiding mirrors. I'm not letting pictures of me being taken. I'm hiding out at home. I'm not going out, facing the public. When I do go out, I put on that mask. The mask that I need to hide behind that makes me feel worth the life I'm consuming.
I'm so deeply afraid that if anyone knew just how much turmoil boils inside of me that they won't want to associate with me. I'm afraid that they will tell me what I'm so deeply afraid to hear.
I want to cry. I want to hold it in. I want to forget. I want to pretend it didn't happen.

I'm lying on a bed, in a stupor. I can hear the crowd in the other room. I'm trying to sleep off what I've consumed. We were all having a great time. I thought I had found people to trust myself with. I didn't.