Like a Light Switch | Teen Ink

Like a Light Switch

September 27, 2015
By tayfreeman. GOLD, Chesapeake, Virginia
tayfreeman. GOLD, Chesapeake, Virginia
15 articles 0 photos 3 comments

And there I lay, on the floor next to my sister, face up with my nose to the ceiling. Long episodes of laughter shook my entire body until my sides began to ache. Inhale. Exhale. Strange people in costumes stood staggered around me wearing dark blue clothing so tight, I wasn’t exactly sure how they were still able to suck air down their throats. Flabby skin hung over their shirt collars making my teeth shine brightly, reflecting off of the dim light in my one room apartment. I noticed my smile was the only one in the room. I had to show everyone else how happy life could be if they simply showed off what the dentist bill gives them! In reaction, I jumped to my feet, landing right on my tattered converse. I ran to one of the lovely people standing in my living room, sure that a friendly embrace would work but just as I reached him, he restrained my arms. A tingling sensation shot through my limbs. It tickled my skin, sending out a prolonged episode of giggling but nobody else seemed to find the humor in the situation. My sister stared at me as I continued to wheeze, attempting to control my laughter. By this time, she had stood up and slowly backed away towards the door. She seemed ready to run.
“It’s a perfect day outside to race, Heidi! C’mon!” I lifted my right leg, ready to fly. I had to be faster than Heidi. The sun was just over Poplar Street and the wind was barely blowing outside my dusty window. As my foot hit the carpet, Heidi took off before I could even be freed from the grip of my oppressor. But she did not head for the door way. She instead leaped into the arms of a female officer and began to cry. I couldn’t fathom what upset Heidi but I didn’t have time to question her actions before I was dragged outside. They did not hesitate to turn off my light switch before exiting my home, a common courtesy often left unappreciated.
  The door came to a loud close on our way out. This enraged me! How could they have the audacity to let my door slam with the neighbors so close. I could feel the wood splintering as it jammed into its large rectangular cutout, bouncing back once before finally fitting securely into the doorframe. I turned my gaze swiftly back to the officers dragging me down the hallway against my every will. Squeaky shoes caused the noise level to grow louder with each step. Left. Right. Left. Right. It wouldn’t stop! My ears were filled with their incessant talking. One of the officers was chewing on a piece of gum, careful not to close his mouth.
“Shut up!” I screamed, an attempt to sooth my torment. “Just spit your gum out!” My voice grew stronger with every syllable. They said nothing to me. Instead they adjusted their shimmering badges and continued down the stairs and to their cars, throwing me inside and slamming the cold metal doors as if to confirm that I was a flight-risk.
I watched as my sister sat helplessly crying, tears streaming down her innocent cheeks. She was positioned on the back of a police car. The hood was left undented due to her light weight. All I could think about was getting to her. Protecting her. The only way would be to break through these windows. They didn’t seem that thick. I balled my hands into a tight fist, my skin turning white. I pulled back my arm, aiming for the middle of the glass and let my anger channel into this one liberating action. As my clenched hand made contact with the window I realized that pain was the only outcome; not even a crack in the glass. Weakness enveloped me into its unrelenting grasp and I began to cry with her. Beating on the windows I screamed her name but she only turned in the opposite direction. My own tears smudged my black eye liner. I searched around for a tissue or something to save me from having a raccoon complexion but I found nothing. I was alone.
The wait in the car seemed like an eternity. I was sure they would leave me here to die. I would take my last breath in this car. The air conditioning made every surface of the car turn to ice and I could’ve sworn that I could see my own breath.  One thing I didn’t see, though, was my mom’s car turning into the parking lot. She pulled up next to my motorized metal cell. I immediately shrunk into my seat, hopeful that my mom wouldn’t notice me. She opened her driver’s seat door and stepped out of her car, one foot at a time. Her stilettos hit the unforgiving concrete with a loud click. Of course. It was just like her to wear the highest heels she could find even to release her daughter from a potential jail sentence.
She strutted her way over to the group of police, being sure to flip her hair at least twice along the journey. This sickened me. She took my sister into her arms, running her long fake fingernails through Heidi’s golden blonde hair. I could feel thick rage pumping through my veins. Heidi was my responsibility, my sister. It was my promise to keep her safe. My parents had never understood me. And they never even tried. I knew that if I let Heidi grow up in a relationship like that, pain would be inevitable. So from the day I was liberated from my parent’s custody, I vowed to myself that I would let nothing bad happen to Heidi. But there I sat, powerless in a stationary vehicle while neglect kissed the cheek of my darling. The anger became too much. It felt as if that light switch was in my head though out of my reach, flipping on and off as I was dragged through life.
“You can’t take her!” I screamed. At this, my mother’s head turned swiftly, her hair getting caught in the breeze. I hated what a beautiful tyrant she had become. “She belongs with me! She has a good home with me!”
“Sweetie, she can’t stay here.” She said this in a soft sweet voice, reminding me of my childhood before my disorder took control of my body.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of this nostalgia. “Why not? You’ll never love her the way I do!”      
“June, you can’t control yourself. It’s not your fault; your emotions just fluctuate too quickly. The doctor said...”
I cut her off, “I can control my emotions! See? I’m mad now! Mad! And now I can tell that I’m about to be furious! The doctor knows nothing and neither do you!”              
My mother’s grip grew tighter on Heidi. I could almost sense fear in her eyes, though I’m more scared of getting stab wounds from her unnecessarily long finger nails than she could ever be of me. “Just listen to me. I don’t want you to ever touch her again! Do you hear me?...” Choking back tears, her voice trailed off making it almost impossible for me to hear the end of her sentence. The policeman noticed my lack of interest and opened the door to the driver’s side. He drove off with me in the back seat, leaving Heidi vulnerable in the parking lot, her tiny arms wrapped around her mother’s neck.
I had seen this Psychological Services building before but never thought I would ever go inside. It was a fairly new structure a few minutes away from downtown where I lived. Outside was a brightly colored sign depicting a family smiling together, all wearing corresponding colors. I couldn’t help but assume that their happiness was for profit. Inside were white walls, connected at the seams with a blue and white tile floor. It felt cold and empty though there was definitely not a lack of people. I hid my face in my dark gray sweatshirt and sat down in a stiff lobby seat. I didn’t belong here.
“June!” hearing my own name was startling. A lady in pastel scrubs and a name tag that read “Susan” instructed me towards a small room with a bed and two chairs. I remained cautious of my surroundings and decided to not let myself get too comfortable. I took a seat in one of the chairs similar to the ones in the waiting room. The smell of disinfectants clouded the room. I waited.
They told me she had bruises. They painted her body, the sporadic splotches of black and blue outlining her frail figure. They hit her! I knew this for a fact, though they assured me I was the abuser. They wouldn’t believe me when I denied it. I could never touch her like that. Sure we fight like all siblings do but I love her. My grandma used to tell me to embrace my emotions, that I could feel whatever I wanted to feel. Unfortunately my room card to Redwood Psychological Therapy says otherwise. In my ID picture, my hair is left un-brushed but pulled behind my ears, allowing my eyes, one green and one gray, to shimmer in the glare of the camera flash.
I am looking at this photo now, its sharp edges digging into my hands. A smile draws its way across my face and I find myself smiling. For what reason? I don’t know. They told me I don’t know myself anymore. But I will always remember how well I knew my sister.


The author's comments:

I know that I am not bipolar but sometimes I can't control my anger. I will be laughing and, like a light switch, my voice gets louder and louder until even I am scared. This inspired me to write my short story, "Like a Light Switch" for an assignment in Creative Writing. I haven't written anything except for poetry in a while so I struggeled through this story but it felt good to bleed my heart onto paper. 


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