**Trigger warning: SI mentioned** (Resources included at the end)

08-07-2011

I’m starting my first day at my new school today. Since Mom is trying to shorten Nelly’s sentence, I live permanently with Aunt Lydia. I’m nervous but a bit excited. Maybe now, I’ll have an everyday, happy life. Star and I slowly stopped contacting each other, which is honestly for the best, and Nelly and her boyfriend got 20 years in prison. I wish they had life in prison, but I guess 20 years is okay. Aunt Lydia and I regularly watch crime shows every Friday, so maybe we’ll see an episode about them soon: “The World’s Worst Kidnappers.” Andrea and the other girl they kidnapped are okay and back with their families. I’m glad nothing serious happened. I will miss my old school and friends a little, but I hope to make new friends and finally start my life with my new family.

08-08-2011

The first day wasn’t too bad. This girl in my class had a cute Space Cow pin on her bag. I told her it was my favorite show, and we talked about it throughout the class, sharing our favorite episodes and characters. The teacher kept yelling at us to stop talking. Her name is Veronica, and she’s super cool! She seems like a good one, for sure. I have to remember to wear my Space Cow hoodie tomorrow.

I can’t find my hoodie. I wonder if I left it behind. Nelly probably took it anyway, like she took everything of mine.

08-12-2011

This whole week was like a daze, completely unreal. Star and I were never like this. Veronica and I talk every day; I don’t have to wait a day for her to reply, and she even let me have one of her Space Cow hoodies! I didn’t even ask her to. Is this what real friendship is? 

We’re having a movie night tomorrow. I’m kind of excited. I’ve never had a sleepover at my house before – well, “my house.” Star’s parents didn’t feel comfortable leaving her with me and Nelly. Her mom thought I was a bad influence on her, and Nelly was unpredictably crazy. I mean, she barricaded me in my room the day she was arrested. There was also this one time she picked me up from school and was super friendly to me, just to throw cigarette ashes at me later that night because I wouldn’t give her the 100 bucks I got for my birthday. She said I didn’t deserve it and that Dad had never sent her money. I feel like she constantly punished me for Dad not caring about her.

08-14-2011

I’m currently leaning against the door as Aunt Lydia stands outside begging me to tell her what’s happening, but I’m embarrassed. I think I ruined it. She hasn’t texted me since she left this morning. She also acted very sketchy. I woke up and found her sitting up on her phone. I wanted to ask her what she was doing, but I asked if she was hungry instead- which is weird because I’ve never had a problem with that. She said she would eat on her way home and that her mom was on her way. I was confused. I still am confused. Did I say something? Aunt Lydia told her that she could drop her off today. I expected her to stay till maybe 5, like Star and I used to do. Maybe I said too much. She asked me why I moved here, and I told her everything. I’m starting to think that was a bad idea. Is that why people seemed to ignore me at my old school? I think Nelly was right. I am annoying.

—

Aunt Lydia sat with me in silence for what felt like an hour. I told her I regretted telling Veronica about Nelly. She listened to my rant and asked if that was all we talked about. I said no. We talked about her boyfriend too. Veronica told me how sweet and mature he was, and I guess I couldn’t hide my reaction because even Aunt Lydia pointed it out when I was retelling the story, “Is that the face you made when she told you?” At that point, it was all coming full circle. I told her he reminded me of Nelly’s boyfriend and that she didn’t seem to like that. Then I made a joke to lighten the mood, but she didn’t like that either: “Let’s hope he doesn’t turn out to be a kidnapper, too.” Aunt Lydia just hung her head. She told me I couldn’t say stuff like that and that I needed to apologize. I told her I tried, but she won’t text me back. Then she said, “There’s always tomorrow.” She’s right, but I’m not so hopeful.

08-15-2011

I couldn’t find Veronica at our usual meeting spot this morning. Maybe she’s avoiding me. It made me think of the multiple times Star would ignore me, only to start talking to me days later like nothing happened. I started making scenarios where I would tell her off for ignoring me. I must’ve creeped people out because they looked away immediately after glancing in their direction. Looking back, I should’ve noticed the signs that she didn’t like me. She gave me one of her hoodies probably because I whined about it; I bet she was just talking to me to be ‘the sweet one, not leaving a new kid alone on the first day.’ Her ignoring me was probably a way for her to slip out of the friendship undetected, making me think it was my fault. Why didn’t I see it before? It’s a good thing we’re not friends anymore. It wouldn’t have upset her if she was really my friend.

——

Veronica actually sat next to me in class, but it was only because the teacher told her she couldn’t switch partners. We didn’t say a word to each other the whole period. Before class, I had thought about apologizing, but after, I was too angry to think about anything other than crushing her skull in with a rock. I listened as she laughed and joked with her other friends. One of her friends asked if I was okay, and she said, “She’s probably just tired.” That was the moment she had erased me from her life. I couldn’t hold in my rage. It felt like when you’re in a zombie game, your character is almost dead, and all you see is a red-tinted screen with blood splatters in the corner. My muscles weren’t listening to my brain to stop; the walls were closing in, and I couldn’t hear anything anymore. In the bathroom, I threw my phone on the ground and again on the wall. I watched the tiny plastic shards ricocheting off the tile floor and into the stalls beside me. It was hard to breathe, and I even thought I would hurt someone if they simply entered my vicinity. As I watched myself destroy the last of the only form of communication with Aunt Lydia, I fell to the ground and sobbed.

——

Another girl found me sitting on the floor with my now-broken phone combusted and plastic shards scattered throughout the bathroom. There were cuts and bruises on my arms, which alarmed her to get a teacher. But it was just from when I was throwing my phone. I’m not like that. No one seemed to listen, though, because they sent me to the counselor’s office. The counselor told me Aunt Lydia was coming and asked about my home life. I half expected her to tell me some cruel joke, like when that cop acted like he believed Nelly when she told him I was the ringleader. But the counselor just sighed. I knew she pitied me, just like every other adult who knew about what my sister did. It’s like I’m the protagonist in a play where I’m supposed to be the background character, and everyone besides me is involved in this sick twist. I had to give it to her; she was persistent. But so was I. By now, the CPS would get called. Though, nothing ever happened. Mom always knew how to evade them. Nelly somehow knew when they were coming and would prep me for interview questions. The last time I was called into the office, I pretended, just like Nelly taught me, telling them everything was okay—that I was okay. But things were at stake then. Now–I’m safe. And yet, not.

—

Aunt Lydia arrived just as the counselor recommended therapy. But I’m not my mother. That counselor can be sneaky if she wants, but I heard what she said to Aunt Lydia. I bit my tongue in the car, but when we got home, I was like a dragon learning to breathe fire for the first time. Aunt Lydia had this look that could be mistaken as pity, guilt, then disappointment- I couldn’t gauge it.

“I know you want to put me in therapy,” I said. She told me she wouldn’t, but what happened today alarmed her. “I’m not crazy,” I said. She said she didn’t think I was but that she thought therapy would help me through “everything that has happened.” I tried explaining to her that what my sister did had nothing to do with me, but she insisted that it did. “Therapy is only meant for people that have experienced real trauma,” I told her, “And that’s not me.” This seemed to stunt her because her whole body softened. Both she and Uncle Jerry looked like the nurses in those old horror movies that would creep closer to the patient in hopes of stealthily capturing them and taking them to a loony bin, and I wasn’t going to be one of them. “You just want to get rid of me!” I shouted, then ran to my room and slammed the door.

I don’t know what to think. Therapy won’t change me. It didn’t seem to help Star, and I don’t think anything really happened to her. Therapy is only for people who have experienced actual trauma. I like to think that’s Star, but she’s never talked about it before. She was adopted when she was 5. She probably doesn’t even remember it anyway. All a therapist will do is ask me about my life and my family and prescribe me meds. I saw what they did to Star. She was a zombie for a month until she was put on another medication that turned her into a daredevil. I don’t want any of that.

08-16-2011

I was going to do it. I was. But then, that cop had to show up and ruin things. I tried to explain to him that I didn’t belong there and was doing everyone a favor, but this only gave me a golden ticket to the hospital. How could I be so naive? Just because they helped me back then doesn’t mean they would help me now. Aunt Lydia is on her way here, they told me. I can’t believe I complicated things for her again. I’m a horrible niece.

—

It feels like I’m a prisoner waiting for death row with all the cops gathered outside the room, but instead of having minutes, I have hours. I feel so numb; it’s like I’m not even here like I’m looking through a lens. It’s oddly satisfying, in a way. I care less this way. A woman came in to talk to me. She said she was the inpatient psychologist. She asked me about what happened–what brought me here. “I tried to get run over,” I said. She asked me how. “I laid in the middle of the road.” It was invasive yet impersonal.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I didn’t want to be here.”

“Why didn’t you want to be here?”

“It’s complicated,”

I asked her if I was being admitted. She told me it depended on me, then asked, “Are you currently suicidal?” I told her I didn’t want to be here. “Are you having suicidal ideations?” She asked. Yes. “Then yes.”

—

It’s been 2 hours since I talked to the psychologist, 4 hours in total. No one seems to know what’s going on. I’m feeling a little better, though. Aunt Lydia told me she was sorry for making me feel like I needed to die. I told her it wasn’t her fault. She said, “I don’t want to ‘just get rid of you.’ I want to help you.” I had to look away when I saw her tear up. Seeing her in pain was a jab in the heart, so instant that I hardly noticed it. Then she told me she loved me. That’s the first time she’s told me that. I mean, no one’s ever told me that before. When that realization hit me, it was like I was a freshly unclogged faucet. She hugged me, and we had a moment. I feel a lot calmer now.

—

A nurse just came in and said they were ready for me. I don’t know if this will help, but I’ll at least try.

---

ATTENTION: ASKING FOR HELP IS NOT A SIGN OF WEAKNESS BUT STRENGTH.

If you need help but don’t know where to go or how to get it, I will include some resources that can help you:

United States:

Suicide and Crisis Hotline

Call or text ‘988’, or you can chat with someone on 988lifeline.org.

National Domestic Violence Hotline

1-800-799-7233 or text LOVEIS to 22522

National Child Abuse Hotline

Call 1-800-4AChild (1-800-422-4453) or text 1-800-422-4453

National Sexual Trauma Hotline

 Call 1-800-656-HOPE (4673) or use can use: Online Chat

Trans Lifeline

Call 1-877-565-8860 (for Spanish, press 2)

Trevor Lifeline (LGBTQ)

Call 1-866-488-7386 or visit https://www.thetrevorproject.org/get-help/ to talk to someone 24/7 and even find a counselor.

Veteran’s Crisis Line

Call 988, then select 1, use Chat, or text: 838255

(Veteran use) You can use the Safe Helpline app and website (https://www.safehelpline.org/) to talk to someone on your base or installation today about your sexual assault. Or call 877-995-5247.

All information collected at https://www.cdc.gov/mentalhealth/tools-resources/index.htm.

United Kingdom (there’s probably more, but I’m clueless on the UK side):

Talk to Samaritans

Call 166 123 or email jo@samaritans.org.uk for free emotional support 24/7. Or visit https://www.samaritans.org/.

Shout

Text SHOUT to 85258 for 24/7 emotional and crisis support. Visit https://giveusashout.org/get-help/how-shout-works/ to know how it works.

Anxiety UK

Helpline: call 03444 775 774 (9:30 to 17:30 M-F) or text 07537 416905 and ‘Ask Anxia’ chatbot for support. Visit https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/explore-mental-health/get-help#:~:text=uk.%20See-,Helpline%20services,-for%20more%20information for more helpline information.

Therapy: visit https://www.anxietyuk.org.uk/get-help/access-therapy/ for more information on what they provide.

CALM Helpline

Call 0800 58 58 58 or use their chat service: https://www.thecalmzone.net/get-support#open-calmbot, 17:00 to midnight, 365 days a year.

All information collected at https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/explore-mental-health/get-help.