Cold fingers caress the back of my neck, and I hear a young woman whisper in my ear, “She hates you.”
Is it true? I wrong, I was I bad? I have this vague sense of unease and jolts of panic contract my heart. As the anxiety gets worse my body temperature increases and I start to sweat. Oddly my legs get cold and numb like the blood is no longer circulating in them. It becomes harder to hear the words spoken around me until it all sounds like a million crickets chirping inside my head. I’m in a social situation unable to get up and leave. My spirit begins to disconnect from my body and float a few feet away. For a while at least no one can hurt me.
I know I’ll have to come back into my body. I’ve earned the punishment, and I should hurt. I deserve to feel the ache in my chest and the stinging verbal slaps across my face. “You will be sorry you will pay.” My father’s mantra rooted deeply into my head more meaningful than ever.