Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Rodger

Hurt

I hurt myself today, To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain, The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole, The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away, But I remember everything
-Nine Inch Nails, Hurt


I remember the green Christmas dress and navy sweater I bought for .99 cents at Salvation Army that smelled like old carpet. I remember the look on your face as I inhumanely slammed the door on you. That face haunts me because it was the last time I saw your grey hair and doleful eyes. It was about 2 pm the following day and I had decided to not go to Spanish class because my head hurt a little but the real reason was mom was making schnitzel for dinner and I didn’t want to eat McDonald's again. The phone rang, followed by a piercing scream and a broken phone. The room smelled like fermented cabbage. It was that moment I felt the most intense shooting pain in the back of my brain. It was like someone took a pair of scissors and opened up my skull. I thought Phillip or Olivia was dead, I imagined a drunk driver and some scenario that made for television movies wag their sharp tongues at.

I scooped the phone off the floor next to my grief stricken mother. It was some priest, he had a lisp. Rodger, my mom’s boyfriend had shot himself in the head in the bathroom of his Warren ranch. The pain was bad, 4 years later it still feels bad. Yeah I grew from it, it was the type of thing that forces you to look at your life and see the cracks that you've filled with dollar chocolate bars and 7 credit cards.

I’m still not sure if it’s Rodger or Roger.

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