LJ Idol Survivor: Challenge 2: Keel Hauling

[flipflop_diva]

I’m crying again. I can’t help it. I’m trapped in a cycle I can’t get out of. I try to be happy. I smile, I laugh, I dance (I dance a lot), but just when things are going good and I’m feeling on top of the world, it’s always taken away, and I’m shoved down into a pit of despair and misery again.

There is no escape, no way out. The moments of happiness are cruel teases to what my life could be if I weren’t stuck here, with these people, in this situation.

But there is nothing I can do. I can’t leave. I can’t even call for help. So instead I stay here, waiting to be pushed underwater again, and I come up crying.

It’s all I have.

--

I wake to sunlight streaming through the cracks around the window blinds in the small dark room I am forced to sleep in. I am all alone.

The blankets I once had are no longer in reach. My friend, Mickey, has disappeared too. If he is smart, he will escape and never come back.

I had a bottle of water the night before, but now it is empty, and my throat is parched.

I stand up and call the names of those who keep me here, but no one comes. There are no footsteps in the hall. The door to the room does not budge.

I do the only thing I can think of — I scream and I cry, and I throw myself back down on this bed that is not nearly as big or as fluffy or decorated with as many pillows as all the other beds I see in this place.

Once again, the hope of morning has been replaced by a cruel, cold reality.

--

Breakfast this morning is one of my favorites. Waffles and milk. I probably should wonder why they are being so nice to me, but instead I focus on the taste and the feel of the sticky syrup as it covers my whole body.

I pick up the milk and wonder briefly what it would look like if it could puddle across my whole eating area. I decide to try; it might just be the experiment that would make me smile.

I watch as the liquid spreads out, covering everything. Some of it drips to the ground and makes the dog happy.

I’m smiling and laughing, and then it’s too late. I don’t even see it coming.

The milk is gone, and so is the rest of my breakfast, and they are speaking my name in harsh tones, like I deserve to have my only sustenance snatched away from me.

I don’t understand how they can be this cruel.

And the tears come again.

--

I try to escape. There is a bike in the corner of the garage that’s the perfect size for me. I run for it, but the woman I am trapped with is faster than me. She grabs me, pulls me into the air as I kick and scream.

There is nothing I can do but cry as she forces me into a jacket that is much too hot, and then straps me down in the car, making sure the belts across my body are so tight they will never come loose. It is the only way they can be sure I won’t escape.

I scream and cry as the car leaves the garage, heading down unknown streets. I struggle to free myself of the jacket and the straps and even the shoes they force me to wear.

The woman gives me a pointed look when she finally opens the door and sees my bare feet wiggling in the air.

I laugh, because for once I have won.

--

The day time hours are the only times I am away from the people. It’s nice. There are others who look like me at the place they take me too, and we are allowed to climb and slide and make messes. (Sometimes I miss the people, but I would never tell them that.)

But no matter how nice the days might be, the people always return to get me. They seem happy to see me, and they ask me about my day, and I think maybe this is the turning point? Maybe this is where they will respect all of my wishes and decisions?

But it all comes crashing down soon enough.

The people want to take a walk. I want to ride my bike. But the bike is broken and it keeps knocking me over. The man takes the bike back to the garage and then puts me in a wagon, but the bike is my only form of escape, no matter how much it’s been programmed to hurt me.

I scream and cry again, but the man doesn’t budge. Instead he straps me down when I try to stand up, and all I can do is cry more.

--

The nights are the worst. A series of actions designed to make me miserable. I’m not allowed to give the poor starving dog food from my plate. I’m not allowed to throw on the floor the food I don’t want. I’m not allowed to take out the pages of the books to see the secrets that are obviously hidden inside them. I’m not allowed to touch the TV and turn it to something that I want to watch.

(Sometimes, there are moments of niceness. Sometimes we have dance parties. Sometimes they give me a cookie. Sometimes they let me snuggle with them on the couch. Sometimes I wish things could stay this way forever.)

But as with every day, the night, too, comes to an end, and soon enough I am back in the bed in the little room. My blankets are back, and so is my friend, Mickey.

I’m not tired, though. (Well, I am, but I don’t like to admit that.) I want to read a book. I want to not be sad.

For once, the people understand. Mommy picks me up and takes me to the big bed in the big room. I lay between Mommy and Daddy while they read to me and kiss me, and I fall asleep sometime before the end of the second book.

Before I do, I think that maybe this life just might be okay.

(Or maybe it’s still horrible. We’ll see in the morning.)



Non-fiction. Or at least I assume my two-year-old would say this is an accurate depiction of her life xD



Thank you for reading! This was written for a new adventure in the therealljidol world — Survivor Idol! You can see all the entries here. Voting should be up on Tuesday night! I'm on the Luzon tribe!

Comments

[gunwithoutmusic]

Hahaha I liked this :) At first I was like, "Oh, no, the torture this poor person is going through!" and then about halfway I started to get it. It reminds me of that video with the diary of the cat acting like he's imprisoned and tortured every day because he's not just allowed to do whatever he wants at any time. I imagine a 2-year-old probably does feel quite the same way!

[adoptedwriter]

Yep! Life of a two-nager! LOL

[murielle]

I felt So bad for this poor baby. I didn't get it till the end. You did such a wonderful job with this piece.

Brava!

[megatronix]

Oh my goodness, lol! You had me for a while. Once the woman looks pointedly at no shoes, I got it! That was a cute way to let us in on it.

I hope your poor sweet child doesn't feel too tortured! ;) But also, I think what's extra interesting about this piece is it really does depict how hard it is to be a tiny child. Lots of people are dismissive of kids at times, saying their lives are so easy, but in the grand scheme of things, they don't yet have much autonomy, and everything is new, which means all the emotions are so RAW and new and difficult to maneuver. I think it's quite an empathetic piece to how confusing childhood can be!

Nicely told, I enjoyed this!

[bsgsix]

I was kind of horrified at the beginning, thinking this was some psych-ward incident gone awry, and that someone was truly being hurt (either by staff or another patient; goes to show how often I've been in a psych ward, lol). And then, it just smacked me in the face, and I had to chuckle a bit. My kid was very placid, but my best friend had her child the same month my son was born, and damn, her girl is a FIRECRACKER (we think our babies were switched at birth, ha). This reminded me of her struggle - and the fact that a two-year-old probably DOES feel "tormented" by the day-to-day that we consider normal, safe, and necessary.

This was fantastic, friend! <3

[bleodswean]

Eeee - is this really how aggro toddlers are???? My son couldn't wait to be out of his baby body. He really wanted his physical freedom. Nice work here!

[uselesstinrelic]

In the end, I was reminded of those photos or videos of toddlers losing their collective shits because their parents wouldn't let them drown in a lake or stick their hand in a toaster. :>

Very cute!

[wolfden]

Toddler realness. Teddy would agree with this very much.

[n3m3sis43]

This is cute! Having parented a toddler, it only took me a couple sections to get what was going on. I really liked this perspective. <3

[alycewilson]

They really don't like car seats at that age, do they? KFP used to cry so miserably I did feel like I was torturing him.

[halfshellvenus]

and the feel of the sticky syrup as it covers my whole body.
Ooh, that's a bad sign...

and then straps me down in the car, making sure the belts across my body are so tight they will never come loose.
But with this, I suddenly realized what was going on here. And exactly why there are fewer covers and pillows in the narrator's bed, and who exactly her friend 'Mickey' is.

And why she feels thwarted SO much of the time. :D

Very clever!