Age 0-

I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t see. I was born with a stab wound. I’m screaming. I’m screaming and no one does anything.

Age 5-

Today I heard something that made my skin rise, and my blood felt cold.

I heard a sharp slap, the sound of skin viciously hitting skin.

Human brutality.

I held my stuffed bunny Johnny for comfort.

Age 7-

Today some people stopped by the house to talk to us.

They put us in different rooms and talked to each of us.

The lady who talked to me referred to me as “the kid”.

I didn’t like her.

Age 11-

Today I found out that my stab wound can bleed.

It’s supposed to bleed every month.

Age 14-

I was invited to a party.

I arrived.

My head hurts and the world is spinning.

I feel dizzy.

Where’s my Johnny?

Johnny, help.

Age 16-

I’m thinking about the party a couple of years ago.

Here I am hiding in my closet again like I was 11 years ago.

I don’t remember what happened, but when I try to think about it,

I get a sick feeling in my stomach and my stab wound.

Age 17-

I’m holding Johnny bunny.

I feel life leaving me through tiny holes.

They bleed like a stab wound.

I feel light.

Maybe if I become light enough, I’ll float to heaven.

Goodnight Johnny bunny.

Goodnight.