Darker Matter: A Memoir

If I was the earth, 
And you, the clouds, I'd pray this: 
Please, God. Let it rain.

Chapter 5

Hours went by. They were filled with excruciating pain, with drunken confusion.

But the worst part by far was the repulsive, foreign feeling in my jaw at the slightest shift.

Bone sliding against bone. Hollow, grating noises echoing in my head. Clunking, grinding, collapsing sensations.

I was a broken China doll. I was a crumpled marionette with slackened strings, no one to pull them taught.

I was not brave.

I whined and cried and shouted.

“Put me out! Put me out!”


My desperate pleas were swallowed by the silent, empty hallways. They disappeared into nothingness.

I was completely alone. Why was I completely alone? Please don’t leave me alone.

I shouted and begged for a long, long time. I shouted at the fluorescent lights, at the plastic curtains, at my bruised palms. At anything and everything that might absorb and diffuse my fear, in the absence of sentient help. I know it made no sense. But I kept shouting. I kept begging.

I was not brave.

Chapter 6

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