The Shine Journal

It Killed Me On the Inside

by

Freedom Smith

January 31, 2007, at 7:30 am.

As the front door swung open, there stood half of Springfield’s finest, in gear for battle. As they yell my name, I appear in the doorway with a long T-shirt and panties on.

How may I help you? Are you Freedom Smith?

Yes.

Can you please come with me, M'am?

As I slid each leg into my jeans, visions of small faces rush into my mind. What have I just done? Yesterday we were in Connecticut, at Friday’s, having fun, thinking about the future because school spring semester had just begun. As I stepped into the back seat of car # 39, we roll away and my heart pulls out of my chest. It killed me on the inside.

As I stood in front of Judge LaRoy, he yells, No bail and sends me to HCHC. I feel the blood drain from my face. I want to die to escape the heartache and pain I am forced to feel now. How could this happen to me? Why? It’s killing me inside and out. Now sitting here 24 months later, my heart is still breaking and yes, this has killed me on the inside.

I miss kissing tiny faces. Washing small feet and hands. Brushing wet, curly hair and setting off to the bus station. It killed me on the inside, but I grew more than I would like to say. Dealing with this on the terms that have been given to me isn’t fun at all. All this while I believed that I s right for feeling the way I did, but actually it’s killed me on the inside, because I allowed myself to be eaten by my guilt.