Jade

Jade

Kevin said as he closed his robe. He had just sodomized his cousin Jade. Kevin was drunk and unsteady on his feet. Jade cried silently as he left the room. Left her there to rot. Jade knew she couldn't tell her grandmother because she hated Jade. Jade had been forced to live with her grandmother when her Mom became homeless and mentally ill. Her Mom would tape political signs in her car windows, and Jade was the only person who felt sorry for her Mom. Jade loved her Mom, as they were best friends and inseparable when she was a child. Now she was forced to live with her Memere, French Canadian for grandmother, and Memere's boyfriend who was verbally abusive to Jade. He'd say dirty, disgusting things about Jade, and she'd cry in her tiny room. She hated him and wished him dead, and often times would play her radio full blast when everyone slept because she was having a nervous breakdown. She just wasn't aware that it was loud, wasn't aware that anyone noticed. That's what madness and ultimately mental illness does to a person. They're just not aware of what they're doing. Not possible, Jade thought.


I'm doing some writing based on my experiences of domestic violence, sexual abuse, and sexual torture. I'm also grieving the loss of my only sibling, Jim. He died 2 days after my 41st birthday. Even though it's been 15 years i still cry a lot. So to combat and hopefully heal a bt I've taken up short story writing. I wrote my memoirs a couple of years ago when I became bedbound permanently. I have to go over them in order to make them readable because they've got no punctuation and trying to read them is arduous. I hope to get to hat sometime soon. Wish me luck!

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