Trigger Warning: physical abuse/violence, alcoholism.
caleb
home is a strange concept
other people go home
and it’s a blessing
a break from school
from work
a chance to recover
to unwind
they dwell
in the temporary peace
before worrying
about work
or chores
they run
into the waiting arms
of their families
their friends
their partner
they breathe in
the scent of the spices
in someone’s cooking
the smoke of a crackling fire
ready to keep them warm
the lush gardens
sprinkled with fresh rain
aromatic flowers in their lawn
they find solace
reassurance
tranquility
comfort
in their homes
siblings and parents
encouraging them
helping them
protecting them
consolation
that there will always
be open arms
ready to catch them
when they fall
to me, that perfect home
is unfamiliar
home is not
welcoming arms
home is arms
shoving me forward
forcing me to trip
criticism in my ears
spiraling through my brain
i wish i had a place
that belonged to me
that no one else could enter
i would be alone
but never lonely
a treehouse perhaps
scented with cinnamon
where i could nestle myself
in soft blankets
worn books
would lay around me
my slender fingers
would wrap around
a steaming cup
fairy lights would line
the wooden planks
but no
that is just a dream
dreams will stay dreams
a fantasy in your head
your happy place
a place you label home
that you can visit
but never touch
when i go home
it’s an eternal curse
imposed upon me
i shouldn’t call it home
it’s just a raggedy old house
with small rooms
faded paint
shutters that tremble
in the wind
flickering lights
that can’t decide
if they want to be
on or off
dim or bright
i’ve known it
since the age of eleven
six years ago
i’ve memorized
every object
every room
every creaky step
every uncertain breath
every blood stain
i’ve traced my fingers
along every dusty surface
unwashed sheets
and limp pillows
strewn across
the stained couch
to create my bed
broken bathroom tiles
click against each other
on my way to the sink
with rusty handles
that’s never warm
but i still use daily
hoping that the water
will cleanse me
of this place
wash away the memories
rid me of the
aroma of guilt
in a constant cloud
above my head
every day
after putting it off
dragging my feet
on my way home
attempting to find a route
that takes the longest
i step through the door
and am acquainted
with my oldest friend
nice to meet you
despair tells me every day
oh my friend
i reply
you have known me
since my first breath
after that
she stays silent
but stays with me
weighing me down
tightening my lungs
making my fingers tremble
school isn’t any better
but today
something different
a new girl
her chestnut hair
framing her light skin
her hazel eyes turning cold
thin eyebrows narrowing
when she sees them
trying to provoke me
she does something
that no one’s ever tried
she tries to defend me
i said she shouldn’t bother
telling her with my somber eyes
that there’s no point
that it won’t change anything
but that unfamiliar feeling
warmed my chest
giving me the hope
i’d been searching for
my entire life
but of course
just like anyone else
she leaves me empty
whispering under her breath
that i’m ungrateful
for not accepting her help
i don’t need your help
i wanted to shout
but everyone knows
that i do
and my one chance
is gone
the second i enter my house
i hold my breath
as the sound of footsteps
approaches me
his heavy boots
crashing against
the wooden floor
but he’s quiet
he’s scarier
when he’s quiet
unspoken threats
hang in the air
he stumbles
catches himself
clutches the bottle so tight
i’m afraid it will break
he raises his free hand
but it drops
too limp to touch me
his glossed over eyes
and blurry vision
make it so he’s unable
to see clear enough
to harm me
he slurs something illegible
staggering past me
mumbling under his breath
his hand reaches out
to steady himself
striking my chest
he’s intoxicated enough
that his hit is weak
it doesn’t burn
like it usually does
usually
i bite my tongue
clench my fists
trying my hardest
not to react
to draw attention
causing my own pain
that i can control
use to cover up the pain
someone else caused
but sometimes
i can’t help it
when he leaves me
whimpering on the floor
gasping for air
clutching the bruise
or pressing a shirt
to the leaking red
staining my clothes
when he passes me
slumping onto his mattress
i let out a breath
my pulse slowing
inhale
exhale
inhale
exhale
because i am alone
i’m as safe as i can be
in this house.