by Yamaya Cruz
“Hey girls,” Blazen said, while chewing like a cow on a stick of gum.
“This is my prima, Nelly.”
“Nelly?” said one of the girls wearing skintight jeans and a strapless shirt. “What’s your real name?” she continued.
I took long deep breaths and rehearsed the words in my mind before I spoke. They stammered when they came out.
“My n, n, n, name is N, N, N Nelandez.”
The girls all took one look at each other and burst out laughing. One girl could not suppress her zeal and cried out, “It sounds like she has a log of shit in her mouth”
A surge of hot blood rushed to my face, and I looked down at the floor. The school bell rang.
“I will see you around N, N, N, N, Nelandez,” chimed one girl, as she threw her hotpink backpack over her shoulder and walked away.
I swallowed back my tears. I didn’t want to cry.
I walked to my ninth grade homeroom class and swung into a desk in the front row. I did not want to see anyone; I did not want to talk to anyone.
My eyes were glued to the clock, waiting for the bell to ring. I could hear it ticking. First, the teacher introduced herself. Then, she asked all the students to do the same. Like dominos, the students stood up, one after another, introducing themselves to the class and saying a little about themselves. I started to shake from anxiety. I didn’t want to tell anyone my name. My heart began to pound, like a hammer was being banged against my chest. I looked at the clock again. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. I jumped whenever the little hand leaped forward. I wiped the sweat off my brow, closed my eyes tight and tried to rehearse what to say. My name was Nelandez Reyes, but everyone called me Nelly. At least, that’s who I thought I was.
Voices in my head startled to prattle. Images of all my dreams started to project in my head. I had to give myself a time out. Oh why did I say that I wanted to go back to school? Did I really think that I could do this? I just couldn’t pretend to be like everyone else because I was really fucked up in the head.
I looked up and realized that everyone was staring at me. Oh my god. They knew. They knew everything. They knew about my momma, about my daddy not loving me. They knew about the dreams, the awful dreams that I had at night. They knew about Nico and what he made me do. I flushed from both shame and embarrassment. I felt like an insurgent Islamist with a package bomb strapped to my chest. I visualized standing up, ripping my shirt open, revealing the sticks of dynamite while screaming to everyone that I was armed and dangerous and working for a madman.
I wanted to threaten everyone in the room. I wanted to make them feel fear like I felt fear. I wanted to make them feel shame like I felt shame. They wouldn’t peep a word of what they saw to their friends and families after I was done with them. The teacher cleared her throat and picked up a clipboard.
“Nelandez Reyes. Is that your name?” she asked. I shook my head. Suddenly, I was relieved that I didn’t have to say anything.
“Welcome,” she said with a half smile.
The kids in the room snickered. I hunched down low in my desk, realizing that I had just made a total ass of myself. For the rest of the day, I walked through the hallways in a daze. My head felt like a computer that had been infected with malware. My thoughts were dysfunctional and all over the place. I wondered how long it would be before my mind crashed.
The worst part of the day was lunch. I held my tray as I scanned around the room looking for some place to sit. Unfortunately, there were no single seats. I cursed to myself. I had been here an entire day, and I had only managed to speak two words. How was I supposed to make any friends? Then my worst nightmare came true. There was a voice behind me.
“Ch, Ch, Ch, Chia.” I turned around to see Blazen sitting at a round table with six other girls.
“Ch, Ch, Ch, Chia,” she chimed again, smiling as she licked pudding off her plastic spork.
The other girls tittered and nudge each other.
“Hey Chia, why don’t you come over here and sit with us,” Blazen said, a little too loudly.
My ears started to burn, and my heart pounded as I walked over to the table. I placed my trey down and mentally prepared myself for a public roast.
“Hey Nelly,” Blazen said between bites of her hamburger.
“I think that we are going to call you Chia, for Chia pet. That fits you better, you know.”
I looked down at my plate. I had lost my appetite, but I decided that I would still eat my food. I shoveled the food down my throat, chewing and swallowing virtually at the same time. I figured that if my mouth was stuffed with food I would not have to speak.
“Hey Chia, did you hear what I just said to you?” Blazen said, leaning forward.
I shook my head and pointed my finger to indicate that I could not talk because my mouth was full.
“Oh I see, so now you are not going to talk,” she said, nodding her head. I looked over at her and painfully swallowed a huge chunk of macaroni and cheese.
“Hey, Chia,” Blazen said, pushing her tray away and sitting back in her seat.
“How is your momma? “
I stopped chewing and stared at Blazen. Was there ever an end to her cruelty? I wanted to jump across the table and rip her extensions out of her scalp. I raised my halfpint of milk to my mouth and took a long gulp. A voice in my head began to prattle. Do it. Do it. Kick her in the head. Slam that tray into her face. Why are you scared? You got nothing to lose. No, if I do that, then I would get kicked out of school and would have to spend all day in Nico’s house. I couldn’t do that. I could deal with Blazen for forty-five minutes.
The school bell rang; I ran into the bathroom stall and locked the door. I sat on the toilet. I didn’t want to go back out there. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it.
I looked under the stall and saw a pair of feet, wearing white orthopedic shoes. Instantly, I knew who it was.
“Nelly, what are you doing in there? Come out now.”
“No!” I said. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to speak to her. She was never around when I needed her. She wasn’t around when Nico came to my room at night. I didn’t want anything to do with her. She didn’t love me. Nobody loved me.
“Nelly, you can’t let Blazen get to you,” she said from behind the door.
Blazen? That bitch is the least of my problems. It was the voices and the nightmares, and the dreams that were driving me crazy.
“Nelly, stop acting like a victim and take control of your life,” she demanded. I shook my head. I was confused, alone, and helpless. Take control? I didn’t know how to do that.
“Remember, the power is in you. It’s always in you,” she said.
“I want my momma,” I cried. I collapsed onto the floor and balled up into the fetal position, secretly wishing that I were back in her womb, where I was warm, safe, and protected.
When I got back to Nico’s house, I spotted a huge air tent in the back yard. What was going on? I ran over and stared at amazement at a happy birthday banner. It had my name written on it. It was my birthday? I remembered my thirteenth birthday perfectly. I spent it, standing over a barrel of fire with a fellow homeless person named Berry who had one tooth and wore a blanket as a coat. This couldn’t be. People started to arrive and handed me gifts and birthday wishes.
Yes. Yes. This was a party. I felt warm inside, and I slowly realized that this was the happiest I had been in a long time. I spotted Ali. I didn’t see him much anymore. He was leaning against a tree, wearing a white wife beaters shirt and baggy jeans. His hair was braided back neatly in corn rolls. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t walk over and wish me happy birthday. He just stood there and looked at me. Blazen walked over to him, they exchanged looks, and then they both eyed me like thieves casing a joint. I was confused. I started to walk over to them and ask them what was wrong. When someone who handed me another gift sidetracked me.
“Happy birthday Nelly,” said a young couple before they marched off in the opposite dir
ection.
Soon, my party was in full swing. I don’t remember much of it. I guess I was having way too much fun. People from all walks of life gathered to dance, and talk about the good ole days. I never wanted this day to end. I saw Nico out of the corner of my eye. I cringed as he made his way over to me. He rested one black hand on my shoulder.
“Mija, are you enjoying your party?” he said.
Yes, I was enjoying my party until you came over. Why can’t you just leave me alone? I looked away. For some reason, I could never look directly at Nico. His eyes were creepy. I turned and focused on the tent. Nico grabbed my chin and positioned my head at eye level, forcing me to look at him.
“All this is for you. Everything that I do is for you,” he said.
I was scared to turn my head or to push him away, out of fear that he would ring my neck like a chicken. Instead, I just stared at him blankly.
“Mija, you know that I love you. I’m the only one who loves you,” he said while releasing my chin and stroking the side of my cheek. It was another loving gesture, but it made me sick to my stomach.
“Just remember, nobody can give you what I can give you,” he said while pulling away.
I flushed from embarrassment; I looked around to see if anyone had witnessed Nico’s public display of affection. I turned and saw Blazen and Ali looking at me. I turned beet red. Blazen’s eyes were burning hot from jealousy. Ali just looked sorrowful and then disappointed, like a mother seeing her son for the first time behind bars. Did I let him down? I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to do what Nico told me to do. He told me that I had to do it, because everyone had to earn his or her keep. I wanted to walk over to my brother and throw my arms around him. I wanted to beg and plead for us to go back and live as squatters, so I wouldn’t feel any shame, or guilt, or fear about who I was.
Our eyes meet briefly. He ripped his away and walked into the house. I didn’t enjoy the rest of the day. I opened my gifts hoping that they would make me feel better. I continued to rip open boxes, like a fat lady stuffing donuts into her mouth, secretly hoping that the gifts would ease the terrible pain that was in my heart. I opened the last gift and paused, I held it up like it was a worm I had just dug up from the soil. I was repulsed by it. I wanted to walk over and throw the fucking thing in Nico’s face. It was a solid gold chain with diamond lettering that simply said, Mija. I balled it up in my hands, trying to break it. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want any of the gifts. It made me feel cheap, like I could be bought and sold like a fucking slave. I couldn’t hide my feelings any more. I threw the chain down on the ground, kicked the boxes and ran into the house.
I flopped onto the bed, face first and cried. I really wanted my mommy. I didn’t come out for the rest of the night and no one came in to check up on me. I didn’t want to go to sleep, too many nightmares. Instead, I just watched the clock dreading every minute, hoping that it would never turn 12:00pm. But in the end, it did. I didn’t physically see Nico, but I could feel him in the room. He had some strange affect on me. It was like my mind was going in and out of consciousness as it moved from darkness to light and back into darkness again.
Then I heard the sounds of a ship at sea. Swoosh, the ship rocked back and forth as it battled the turbulent waters. Swoosh, the boat rocked again. My stomach was in knots. I wiggled my small hands and then my feet, I could not move. I could not move.
“Stop all that fidgeting brother, someone besides me whispered, if you don’t stop, we’re all going to die.”
He spoke to me in a timorous voice and in a strange language that for some reason I seemed to understand.
“Where am I?” I whispered to the man in the same strange language he had spoken to me in.
“Nobody knows, brother, nobody knows,” He whispered back.
There were in total about one hundred and twenty of us. We were all lying on our backs and both our hands and feet were shackled. The air was thick and murky like a contaminated lake.
The rocking seized and then there was a trenchant beam of light that made me squint. Then I heard the voices. The men had bleached skin and wore black long boots with ruffled shirts. What do they want with us? I thought to myself. They began to walk through the cabin, they held elongated keys and they began to insert them into the manacles. A young man came over to me and inserted his key into the locks.
“Get up!” he yelled as he forcefully yanked me up into a standing position. All the blood in my body seemed to rush to my head and my stomach, revolted by vomiting right next to his foot.
“You filthy little animal,” he retorted angrily, as he shoved me back down to the ground.
I landed on the ground face first, my knees were weak, and my arms ached, my legs wobbled as I struggled to stand up. He looked down at the vomit that had splattered over his foot and grimaced with disgust.
He reached over and pulled a black leather whip from his holster. He growled, raised the whip well above his head and thrashed it down on my naked back. The pain traveled through my body like an electrical shock. I winced from the agony as I felt huge chunks of my skin being ripped off by the whip’s recourse. It came down again. Only this time it was followed by my ear-shattering screams. My back arched awkwardly as I moved my body in the most grotesque positions. My breath was raw and short as I struggled to digest the pain.
“Get up!” He screamed as he forced me to my feet. His large white hand was clasped around my arm. My legs were wobblier than a foal that had just been born. There was someone behind me.
“Brother. Brother. Are you alright?” he said. I could understand the warmth in his voice and summoned all the strength in my body to nod my head. We were led to the top of the deck. There was no land. Ceaseless waves rocked the boat to and fro. My lips were bloody and as swollen as a water balloon; I tried to move my mouth to speak, to remind myself that I was still alive, that I was a human being and not a worthless filthy animal. I wanted to scream out to nature to save me, rescue me from the terrains of death. But my tongue couldn’t move. It was thick and dry and hung out of the side of my mouth like a dehydrated hound.
Patches of my skin were raw from being rubbed against a wooden floor, and the lashes on my back stung like hell. My spine drooped and I focused on the water. The water. The water. The water. People had weak bladders and couldn’t wait to be escorted to the resting area, so they peed right where they stood. There were logs of human feces all over the deck. The chain rattled and I felt myself being pulled forward. I was attached to three other men; we worked together, like prisoners in a chain gang, making our way to the edge of the deck. The water. The water. The water. I peered over the edge of the ship, my heart was pounding but I knew that I had no choice. I had to move forward. I stole one last look back, scanned the crowd and spotted my brother. I needed him to know that I could help him; I could help everyone. He nodded his head, understanding that this was my fate.
I jumped. The chains broke and splattered like a bug against a car screen. I plunged to the bottom of the sea like a sinking ship. I tried to fight against it by moving my hands and feet, but the force of the water sent me tumbling about. The waves ripped away my chains, with pieces of it floating away like debris. I needed to surrender, to stop struggling. Then, there will be no more pain, just peace. I sunk deeper and deeper into the dark belly of the sea, until my soul was free, and I was nothing more than an empty corpse.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Twelve
Earlier you mentioned that you thought that your brain had been infected with malware. Why?” Dr. Ontarian asked.
“I don’t know. I just did,” I said while shrugging my shoulders. “It’s very interesting that you said that because we can actually use the metaphor to understand schizophrenia,” she said. “What?” I was totally completely lost.
She narrowed her eyes as if she was thinking of how to explain her concept in idiot terms so I would understand it.
Schizophrenia simply means split mind. Your thoughts and emotions become
mismatched, resulting in responses that are disproportionate to your thoughts, she said.
“Yeah! I feel like these thoughts just jump into my head like annoying pop-ups. I x out of one and a million more come up, and it drives me fucking nuts,” I said leaning over in my chair.
“But in your case it is more than just pop-ups. It’s that you have so much negative emotions and pain buried in you. By not dealing with it, or suppressing it, it grows and begins to infect the other parts of the mind,” she said.
I shook my head and leaned back in my chair.
“Certain thoughts trigger certain responses, but if you have a lot of built up anger, or pain in your case, then that pain and anger is going to work to release itself,” she said.
“Release itself? You mean through violence?” I said.
“That certainly is one way, other ways are self-inflictions like feelings of unworthiness, shame, anger, and in more severe cases drug and alcohol abuse,” she continued.
“Will my brain crash, or just stop working?” I asked.
“No. Of course not, but you may continue to have illusions and hallucinations,” she said.
“Is that really how schizophrenia works?” I asked.
“More or less, our treatment is all about organizing the thoughts in your mind, so you use it more as a tool. So you’re in control and not the other way around,” she said.
“I just want them to stop. Sometimes, I just wish that it all could end,” I said.
I turned in my sleep. The whole house seemed to be shaking. I opened one eye and spotted a huge woman moving toward me. Her footsteps, overburdened with too much weight slammed into the floor panels. The hardwood floored creaked and squealed from the strain. I blinked a couple of times, not believing what I was seeing. It was my abuela. Oh my goodness. How did she find me?
I reached over and turned the light on. Her hair was thick as wool but soft as silk and worn in large springy curls. Her cheeks were colored with rouge with brown liner on her lips. She had cold grey eyes, a light mustache and coarse hair that sprouted from her chin, like whiskers. She was wearing a shapeless muumuu, her arms were as flabby as wads of chewed up bubble gum. She had shoulders like a college-line backer with gigantic boobies that heaved up down with each of her breaths. Yes, now I could see why my mom wanted to stay away from her. She came off as being crude, with the mannerism of a War Lord biker. I could only imagine her big ass glued to her sofa, guzzling beer by the case and letting out belches that smelled like baby crap.