My Name is Daisy

Post your short stories, articles, etc. here.
Post Reply
User avatar
Zili
Posts: 732
Joined: Sun Mar 21, 2010 7:15 pm
Gender: Female
Location: South East Texas

My Name is Daisy

Post by Zili »

My name is Daisy

Dear Diary,
I called the police, they haven't found him. They don't know where he is. They want my help. I don't know where he is, but it feels as though he's always around, a shadow behind me. I don't think they care. I haven't slept in two days. The shadows outside the window, they look like him. I know they are just trees, but they look like him.

Dear Diary,
I fell asleep last night, I didn't sleep for long. I woke up, afraid, but I couldn't scream, I couldn't move.

Dear Diary,
It's the same thing.

Dear Diary,
They don't care, you wouldn't care.

Dear Diary,
Nothing to write about.

Dear Diary,
I don't feel like writing today.

Dear Diary,
I saw a bit of sun today. The doctor made me. I think I like the sun, just a little. It's not as scary as complete darkness, but the light hurts my eyes. I'm not used to it.

Dear Diary,
The pain is worse today, the memories are stronger today. Isn't there some way they can be removed. I don't want them forgotten I want them gone. I'm sick of hurting, sick of crying, sick of being sick.

Dear Diary,
Today sucks, every day sucks, I suck, they suck, this all sucks. I want to sleep but I can't. I try but I just can't fall asleep, it hurts to breathe.

Dear Diary,
Today is my 17th birthday. Today I'm in the hospital for the 6th time. Today I am still not happy. Today I am in pain. I'm always in pain. Pain I can't let go. Pain no one is willing to take away.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My name is Daisy, I am 17. I was a junior in high school. I was a member of the drama club. Last spring I played Juliet in the production of Romeo and Juliet. I had friends. Friends I'd go to the mall with, friends who slept over at my house, friends I'd party with. I made at least B's in all of my classes, sometimes a C in math or history. I was happy, I was pretty, but all of that is gone. Everything is gone.

I'm locked up in Rusk State Hospital. I'm not allowed out until my parents deem me "cured." In the last 2 years I have been to 5 different Psychiatric Hospitals. I was in the emergency room back home 2 years ago, that was the start of all of this. I went to a party with my friends, I was having fun. Music, cute guys, pool party, seemed like the coolest party of the year. Now it doesn't. Things happened in a rolling spiral. I can only remember bits and pieces at a time.

I was dancing, enjoying myself. I got thirsty so I asked my friend, Frankie, to get me a soda from the kitchen. He came back and was smiling. Everyone was having fun, why would he not smile. I didn't notice anything different. Half an hour later the music was fading in and out, so was my vision and my stomach wasn't very happy. I looked around for Frankie, he was my ride and I didn't feel like dancing anymore, I just wanted to sleep. When I found him, he was chatting up a preppy blonde. Typical Frankie, I thought. I had a crush on him last year when we first met but I didn't act upon it. I felt awkward approaching him like this, but I need to go home bad.

I told him that I thought the tofu dog I ate before the party must have been bad, he just laughed. "Ok kiddo let's get you home." He laughed again, and kept laughing. I fell against him as my eyes closed. I felt like a solid piece of lead had just struck me from the sky. When I woke up we hadn't gone far, I could still hear the screams of people having fun, and getting splashed as the senior boys performed cannon balls.

The bed was moving, but it wasn't to the rhythm of the hip hop number playing. I tried to open my eyes; I felt something pressing down on me. It felt different than when I fell against Frankie. I couldn't breathe. I heard Frankie whisper in my ear, but I couldn't tell what he said. It hurt too much to breathe. I gave in to the feeling of sleep that was dragging me down further and further into the mattress.

I don't know how much later it was when I woke up. I was in the room alone. I was on top of the sheets, my shirt was askew, my jeans were pulled down, my head hurt, and my stomach was worse. I tried to sit up; when I did I felt the urge to throw up. I hung over the side of the bed and heaved. I wiped the corner of my mouth on the back of my hand. I pulled my pants up, it hurt to stand. I made my way to the door, it hurt to walk. We had a guest speaker, freshman year, come talk to the new high school class about date rape. I didn't think that could happen. I didn't know if that is what happened. I guess on some level I knew, but I didn't want it to be true. I put it out of my mind. I needed a ride home, but I was confused. I didn't know if I could trust Frankie, I didn't even know if it was Frankie.
I headed up the stairs; I guess I was in the basement. The music was still loud, even louder really, and the light was bright. I bumped into more than one person I couldn't tell who any of them were. When I got to the front door, Frankie grabbed my wrist. "Hey! Kiddo where are you going?" He asked. "You don't look so good." I couldn't tell if he was smiling or not, his face was blurry, I think I had started to cry right then. "Take me home please."

My parents were still out when I got home. Frankie dropped me off, "Later Kiddo." He said before he drove off. I guess he went back to the party, or maybe he didn't. With Frankie gone, my parents out, I was alone in the house. I couldn't even make it up the stairs to the bathroom, I wanted a shower, and I smelled like cigarettes. My head was still pounding. I knew what happened, I stopped denying it the moment my legs couldn't carry me. I collapsed in the sofa chair, next to the phone. I picked it up, the phone receiver felt like ice. I called 911.

My medical charts say I was drugged and raped. Now two years later the chart on the door to my hospital room says that I've tried to commit suicide 5 times. That information is wrong. I've tried to commit suicide 3 times; two times I just took too much medicine hoping it would make the pain stop. No doctor has been able to tell me why I still feel pain and why I have a hard time breathing. Some say it's all in my head. If it is I want them to just cut it out of my brain and burn it. I know they can't do that, sometimes I think about doing it, but I'm not allowed to have anything sharp, I'm not allowed to have anything to do with fire. I'm only allowed a pencil and a journal, while I'm being watched closely. Its apart of therapy. They think writing about how I feel each day will help. How are words going to help? I can erase the words, I can't erase what happened.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Diary,
My name is Daisy, I was raped, and I can't change that.
User avatar
wiccawitchgirl
Posts: 118
Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2011 2:24 pm
Gender: Female
Location: Florida

Re: My Name is Daisy

Post by wiccawitchgirl »

this is amazing so far!!! could you post some more? :type:
Only the body dies. The soul lives on. - Scott Cunningham
Post Reply

Return to “Creative Writing”