Introduction -

Introduction -
When you're so close to the ending how do you begin a story? It's not like there is a tape that you can just rewind and remember everything, again. I realize that I will have to close my eyes and make the choice to go back in order to remember it all. I shiver at the thought and close my journal. I pick up my pencil again and realize that now is my time. I'm finally ready to go back to the beginning. Telling all means revealing secrets and lies; it means writing about things that still give me nightmares. It will include every truth and the untapped potential that everyone claims they see. The beginning includes a beautiful, young, innocent baby girl and the ending includes a girl who is so lost and alone that she can barely look into her own eyes. Choices that she has made and those that she hasn't affect her all the same. Once upon a time she believed in everything; today she believes in nothing.

Chapter 1 -
Present:
Thinking about where I am right this very second, sitting on my friends bed, in her parents house. I wonder how I've gotten to this place, the right chocies that I've made and the wrong decisions. Leaving my picture perfect world to fend for itself; I left it in it's peacefulness to find myself. Only to learn that maybe I was never truly worth finding. Perhaps I should have kept that storybook ending and I wouldn't have these scars.

January 1986:
This is how I picture that cold winter day: my mom is sitting with her friend, talking about something that probably meant nothing and chasing my four year old brother around the house. Suddenly her water breaks and then came the contractions. She calls my grandmother and tells her that it must be time. Living in the middle of nowhere Virginia she has to be driven down the mountains in order to make it to the hospital. On the radio she years some guy singing about a girl named "Mandy" only to find out later that her daughter will be named after a dog.

Back up 9 months:
My grandparents decided at some point to move to Oklahoma. They decided that it would probably be a good idea to take my mother with them. Immediately upon arrival she meets her prince charming and moves right into his trailor (I'm going out on a limb but, I'm guessing they probably let my brother live there too). It was some sort of love at first site, a little bit of something illegal and perhaps some alcohol and life was amazing.
The problem I guess occurred when my mother revealed to her prince charming that she was actually still legally married to her husband. Romantic and innocent, right? Love at first sight? All I can add here is that at least she was married the first time. Prince Charming isn't really okay with the previous marriage situation and I'm assuming neither him or my mom realized that I was currently implanting myself right into her uterus.
So, my grandparents decide to take my poor, broken-hearted, still married mother back to the east coast. During the drive she began to feel a little bit queesy, everyone was praying that it was from car sickness.

January 1986:
Enter Mandy. I didn't cry when i was born, I just came out and looked around, stared at my surroundings and I'm guessing wondered why in the world I was here. The doctor held me up and spanked my bottom and to everyones surprise I let out one big squeak, I guess I was just born different.
My grandmother decided that it would be an exceptional idea to call Prince Charming and tell him about my arrival; I guess no one was terribly excited that I'd come.

July 2007:
After tossing and turning all night, I never really sleep and when I do the nightmares make my sleep so much worse then being awake. Darkness and sweat surround me and I shiver.
Beep Beep Beep. 7 am and I have to wake up. I press snooze on my alarm clock and doze back off; 7 minutes passes so quickly and I stumble out of bed. I grab my facial scrub and cleanser and turn on the shower. Hot water bursts out of the head and I see steam begin to rise above the shower curtain as I undress and step into the scoulding water. I don't know why but I always think that the heat will be enough to wash away my wounds, no matter how old they are. I sink to the bottom of the tub and no one can hear my tears.

1988:
Laughter fills our room and we run throuhg the house. We're so young and innocent; we can not realize the horror that lives below us, the alcohol and drugs that fill our lives in ways that we are completely unaware of but that will become such a part of the quilt that is woven around us.
My brother and I are in the closet (aka our room) where we've created our bed out of sheets that hang so neatly in the form of a hammock. It's charming and it feels like our home; a nest that we've created for ourselves. We're young and naive, we think that life inside of that closet is our home, with just the two of us to hold on to eachother. We beleive that with all of our young and innocent hearts and then we hear the screaming.

July 2007:
I get out of the shower and dry myself off beginning at my shoulders and drying my entire body, finally wrapping the damp towel around my long blonde hair in a knot above my head. I wipe off the mirror with a dry towel and stare at my reflection for 10 seconds too long. I gag outloud and brush my teeth. I press the toothbrush too hard against my gums until my mouth fills with blood and I spit, the water in the sink runs red, then pink and eventually clear. I turn off the sink and leave the steamy bathroom.

[to be continued]