Wrong place, Wrong time

The following is a short story from my friend Alice…..
Have you ever saw something that just absolutely made you snap? I mean really snap, like you don’t remember what you did next. I did, and I didn’t even realize it was happening. Before I start my story let me just say that I grew up in a home with violence and abuse of all kinds. Yelling and hitting someone was very common in my household whether it be coming from a parent to another parent, a parent to their child, or the siblings to each other. Needless to say growing up wasn’t a point in life that I can look back on and reminisce about “the good old day” like most and I got into drugs and alcohol in my early adolescent years; which again, needless to say, didn’t help matters.
Now, not to get into my childhood right at this moment but onto another important story. My wrong place, wrong time story. It was literally just that too. I had been at a party that a bunch of kids from my school were at in the neighborhood I grew up in. Seems all fine, (other than the fact that we are all under age and getting wrecked off booze and pot; while we are on the topic, might i add that alcohol is never a good mix to heated emotions and teens have plenty of this) until a certain group shows up, uninvited at that.

So much of that night is either hindered by the booze and/or being high or just the fact that I deep down don’t want to remember it but I just remember seeing this guy beating up a girl. It was actually an acquaintance of mine. In that moment right then, the last thing I remember seeing was my dad hitting my mom. Cut to a couple of hours later and I open my eyes only to see bright light cascading down onto me. I can feel someones hand holding mine. I look over to see my “mom” (amazing woman who took me in when I was 15 and always supported me and loved me for me) sitting beside me. I don’t remember what she said but i felt more at ease having her with me laying in the hospital. I asked to use the washroom and was helped over to one, not really noticing my current state but more so my surroundings. I knew something was wrong with me because first off I could barely make out the words coming from my own mouth when I was asking for the washroom and secondly i couldn’t move my neck when trying to look around. Shutting the door behind me i slowly turned myself towards the mirror and was completely dumbstruck. I didn’t recognize myself AT ALL. My hair was like a trolls roughed around and knotted and i realized the reason I couldn’t breathe through my nose, was because my lip had swelled right up to my nostrils. I started to panic seeing blood that had once poured out of my nose and mouth and immediately started to observe myself better noticing my swollen eyes to match my nose and mouth or the rest of my face for that matter. It was like right then and there I started to sober up and feel the pains (not entirely sure as to why it was hurting in some places) starting with my head. I could feel lumps and bumps all around and then BOOM! I recalled a bottle crashing on the back of my head. BOOM! A foot coming down towards my face. Eyes close. “stupid little bitch!” one of them screamed at me and then BOOM! Pain in between my legs. I open my eyes, feeling the burning of tears now coming down my face and onto the open wounds I look down at my body. Bruises already started forming on my chest by my breast and ribs. My sister’s new jeans she let me borrow for the party are now torn and blood stained. I remove them and notice my thighs are swollen and red where I was kicked and stomped.

My body suffered a lot from the beating and I’m paying for it more now than back when this happened. Now diagnosed with multiple chronic disorders/illnesses due to it, it only adds to my frustrations at times. Turns out I jumped in and beat up the guy who was beating on that girl. I obviously then got a vicious licking in return by 3 guys in front of, not just kids from school but really close friends as well. I felt a bit of panic after the attack for maybe a week but it quickly went away when I started using drugs and masking my fears and issues with blow and alcohol frequently. There is so much more to this story, although this is all that needs to be told right now. This my friends, is where most of my PTSD stems from. – Alice

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