Listening to Storytime.

My mom wakes me up. I don't budge. She drags my lifeless body to school. Still I don't acknowledge her or our surroundings. We arrive. I walk; in my frilly pink dress. I think to myself, "What am I wearing?" I make it inside. I nod to my *friends*, but smile an empty, toothy, meaningless grin to my acquaintances. It's all for show, right? All I need to do is pretend like I'm happy for a few hours and then I can go home.

I'm in class now. We practice our times tables. Bor-ing. The recess bell rings. So loud. I tell it to shut up; it's giving me a headache. Of course, he is rude and doesn't stop ringing. Everyone runs outside. Screaming. Laughing. So naive, they are. Don't they know the dangers of outside? I'm safe in here, I tell myself. If I don't go outside, it'll never happen again. Nothing can hurt me in here, I think. I prepare myself. Deep breath. The first flashback comes and goes. Not too bad this time. So I wait. I'm quiet. My teacher doesn't even come and tell me to go outside anymore. We both know it's no use.

The class comes back. Filthy. Who's the smart one now? We start science. No experiment today. I hate science. The lunch bell rings. Why are there so many bells? Bells are stupid. I grab my plastic lunch box with four best friends on the front. They look so happy. I think, why can't I have that? Then I remember. It's my fault. I push everyone away. I'm afraid that if I befriend anyone, they'll get hurt just like me. I shouldn't be afraid of my brothers like this. It's not normal; not healthy. And not just one brother, two!

Oh great. I've been called on. Now everyone's laughing at me. Because I was so out of it that I couldn't answer. When will this daydreaming end? Storytime? I HATE storytime. Everyone knows those happy endings don't really exist. Let's be realistic here. The teacher starts reading and immediately my thoughts start drifting. Oh good. They're happy thoughts this time. I can hear my teachers voice over my thoughts but I have no idea what she's reading about. Something about a cat? No..a, duck? Ugly duckling. That's me. I'm ugly. Ugly. He told me I'm not ugly. Behind locked doors. They both did. Daydreaming. No. Terrors. My parents left the house often and said that they'd both watch us; protect us. They have no idea. I'm playing outside and he comes to me. They come to me. Touch me. They take me into my room and lock the door. I wonder... What's going on? We've never done this before.. Oh. Wow. This is new. Different. Exhilarating. I don't say stop. I kinda want to do this again.. Is that wrong? I don't care.

It's been three years and this is still going on. I'm almost 11 now. Why won't it stop? I'm disgusted with myself. I just want to feel normal again. I just want to tell someone..