Unclutter, page 22
I clenched my fists angrily, tempted to punch this perverted teacher, Ms. Shera, until she yelped in pain. But I had to control my own emotions and focus on Amanda’s.
“You know, everyone loves Ms. Shera. No one would believe that she is a pedophile. She has my parents on her side and has promised them that she would recommend me to one of the best music schools in the world. In fact, she is the one who encouraged Affy, Yashpreet, and me to perform at the upcoming SCF this year. She tells us she loves us all the time.”
I could relate to exactly what Amanda was talking about and my nausea intensified. But I let her continue without saying anything.
“But I read about people like her online and realized I was being wronged. I decided to report her to our school counselor, but Ms. Shera caught me before I could do that. She stroked my shoulder and quietly threatened me. ‘Ammy, do you want to ruin your future? You know what will happen if you anger Ms. Shera, don’t you?’ Scared, I ran back to class. Since then, Shera has been more violent toward me. And I can’t take it anymore. What do I do?”
My nails dug into my palm further. Abusers always do this. They emotionally manipulate victims to get away with their crimes.
“There are many things you could do, but only you know the extent of pain you’re facing. It’s not right for me to give you any advice,” I replied, choosing my words carefully.
“What would you do if you were in my place?”
Keep my secret buried. Every time my traumatic memories threatened to resurface, harm myself until it stopped. Then one day, when my shameful truth is exposed—
This is not about me.
Focus on Amanda.
“I would talk to my family and convince them that I want to report Ms. Shera to the authorities. Then, I would seek the help of a support group or a therapist who would help me lodge a complaint against Shera to the police.”
“But my parents are already upset about Aiden being kicked off the basketball team. Should I burden them with my problems as well?” Amanda whispered softly.
“You’re right in wanting to punish Ms. Shera, Amanda. She is committing a crime against you and your friends.”
Amanda nodded slowly. She unzipped her coat to reveal her clothes. She was wearing a loose shirt and baggy pants. She had fastened even the collar button of her shirt. She fanned herself with her hand and fiddled with her button, clearly contemplating whether or not to undo it. I reached over to the heater in my car and switched it off. I opened the windows slightly, so she’d stop feeling hot.
Amanda’s hesitation in unfastening her button brought back a lot of memories. I did the same thing, even in summer. I was the laughingstock in school, but I couldn’t stop. I felt unsafe without it.
“Thanks for switching off the heater. It was getting warm in here,” Amanda said.
I smiled at her. “I was feeling hot, as well. Do you want to have ice cream after this to cool off?”
Amanda laughed. It was a genuine laugh, but it still didn’t eliminate the expression of pain in her eyes. “It’s too cold for ice cream, though.”
I laughed with her. “I like ice cream, especially when it’s freezing outside. Do you want one?”
Amanda shook her head. “I’m not that adventurous. I’d prefer a hot chocolate. Let me go get it.”
“Nope. My treat. And I’ll go get them.”
I got Amanda her hot drink and a chocolate ice cream bar for myself. We ate and drank in silence, relishing our treats. The cold creamy dessert reduced my nausea a little.
Amanda finished her hot chocolate with a last long sip. “My strict parents were finally proud of me because our band was selected to play at the Strollfield Cultural Festival. High school students rarely get to perform at such a big event. I’m so scared that I’ll lose this wonderful opportunity if I decide to fight against Shera. There’s no way the principal would allow us to represent our school after we go against her daughter.”
“It’s your talent that has got you this far. Not Ms. Shera or your principal,” I said.
Amanda frowned. “But if my band is banned from performing, won’t it be my fault?” She added with a sigh, “Affy supports me in wanting to press charges against Shera. In fact, they are more determined than I am. Yash, on the other hand, isn’t sure. He fears the consequences.”
“What if we show everyone how good your music is? Maybe upload it on social media?” I suggested.
“We are not that influential, Tina. Can you help us? After all, your video went viral, and you have more followers than us.”
“I’m not at all active on social media, but I’ll give it a shot.”
“Thank you. I knew we could count on you.” Amanda looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears. “Tina, did I ask for this? Was there anything I could have—”
I raised my voice and interrupted Amanda firmly. “Of course not.”
A few months ago, I’d been in the same place as Amanda—blaming myself for Nicholas’s lewd advances toward me. Scratch that—on some days, I was still there. However, when I heard Amanda using that horrible phrase “ask for it,” I couldn’t stand it.
I continued in a gentler tone. “You did not ask for it. This sicko—Ms. Shera—she’s a teacher and is supposed to protect you and nurture you. Instead… It’s not your fault at all, so don’t ever feel that way or let anyone tell you that.”
Amanda started sobbing. I could see she was letting her pent-up emotions out. I gently rested her forehead on my shoulder and patted her back.
Once she was done crying, she wiped her eyes and looked at me. “Thanks again. I mean it.”
I placed my hand on top of hers. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be waiting for your band’s music samples.”
Amanda nodded. “I will send them over by tonight.” She looked at her watch. “I need to leave now. I’m getting late for my band practice.”
“Take care, Amanda.” I waved to her. “Bye.”
After Amanda left, I drove back home with a heavy heart. I played music full blast and bellowed along to stop myself from recalling my dark memories.
Back home, I took a long and relaxing shower. When I came out of the bathroom, I felt better. I inhaled and exhaled deeply.
All will be well.
Amanda will report Ms. Shera, and she won’t be able to harm anyone else.
We will not let the abusers win.
I completed my online tutoring sessions and saw that I had received an email from Amanda with their band recordings. I played the videos and saw the three band members: Amanda, Affy, and Yash. Their music had a catchy tune, and their voices had a lot of energy. Their music was classical and different from MyWay’s pop genre.
In one of the videos, I saw a woman in a pencil skirt suit and straight black hair introduce the band. One of the boys in the video referred to her as Ms. Shera, and my blood boiled. She looked prim and proper and had a smile on her face. If Amanda hadn’t told me that she was a child molester, I would have been deceived by her sweet voice and polished words. But now, I could see right through her. I forwarded the video, unable to watch this further.
As I sent the video, a moment caught my eye. The person that I had guessed may have been Affy earlier clutched onto their jacket, trying to cover themselves with it further, even though it was already fully zipped up. Their head was bent, but I could see them shut their eyes in silent prayer. At the opposite end was a guy about my age, who leered at them lewdly, smirking sadistically at their discomfort. He called out their name, and they lifted their face hesitatingly, the fear evident in their green eyes, half-covered by their short, red curly hair. He winked at Affy mockingly, and I saw them cringe.
Nicholas Parker.
What was he doing there?
Chapter 33
Seeing Nicholas leer at Affy in the video that Amanda sent was my final trigger. All my buried memories of those demons resurfaced, threatening to come back any moment. I shook my head vigorously, willing myself to think about something else, but I couldn’t.
The memories, the thoughts, the anxiety—they all came back.
The pain, the screams, the evil laughter—they all came back.
The fear, the guilt, the feeling of being dirty—they all came back.
My struggle while dealing with puberty and my changing body while growing up—they all came back.
My hatred for touch, my loss of trust in everyone, my love for lying to protect myself—they all came back.
My inclination to wear only baggy clothes, my yearning to wear skirts and dresses but the fear of exposure—they all came back.
Sleepless nights, lonely days of wondering “why me?”, being laughed at for the way I am—they all came back.
The horror on my parents’ faces when they found out—it all came back.
I forced myself to recall a conversation with Dr. Kim.
“Dr. Kim, the false se-sex tape that got leaked at the graduation ceremony wasn’t the first time I was publicly humiliated. Nor was it the worst,” I said. “I’ve refused to recall the incident that happened on my fourteenth birthday since that day, though bits and pieces of the memories haunt me now and then.”
“Would you be able to speak about those memories with me now?” Dr. Kim asked.
I shook my head. “No. I’ve buried them deep in my mind. I’m scared to let them out. What if I can’t handle them?”
Dr. Kim nodded in understanding. “What do you do when parts of those unpleasant memories come back to you?”
I shook my head vigorously as a demonstration. “I do this and try to think of something else. Sometimes I distract myself with something. When it’s difficult to distract my mind, I tie a rubber band attached to a sharp metal object around my wrist and pluck it and release it so that it hits my hand. When it gets even more unbearable, I cut myself with a knife. The pain helps me forget these memories.”
Dr. Kim sat up straight in her seat. “That’s known as self-harm, and it is not a healthy coping mechanism. We will work on that separately so that you stop that habit and replace it with self-care. Coming back to your memories, what will you do if all of them come back at once one day and you’re unable to stop them?”
I looked down. “I don’t know, Dr. Kim. I shudder to think of such a day. What if I can’t take it?”
Dr. Kim continued questioning me in a gentle tone. “Do you want those memories to disappear so that you can move on?”
I nodded my head slowly and looked at her, my eyes welling up. “Yes, I want to move on more than anything in this world. But it’s so hard. I feel so weak and scared. I wish I could erase those memories permanently.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not possible to erase them or remove them from your mind. There are different ways people deal with this—either they bury it so deep in their minds that it gets lost forever, or they let it out once and then move on. Both ways are methods for us to cope with unpleasant memories. There is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ method,” Dr. Kim explained.
“Are you saying that I can let it all out and then forget about them?” I asked her eagerly.
“I wouldn’t call it forgetting; I would call it removing them from your system. Like writing about it and tearing it up or talking to yourself and then never letting yourself bring it up again, or more rarely, confiding in someone, and then both of you don’t speak about it again,” Dr. Kim answered.
“And what if the memories continue to haunt me?” I asked.
“The key is to tell yourself that it was in the past and that you’re safe now. And all that matters is your present and future. And that you will not let your happiness be ruined because of your past trauma,” Dr. Kim replied.
I frowned slightly. “That’s easier said than done. I think I’d rather bury the memories deep inside me forever.”
Dr. Kim looked me in the eye. “Tina, if the memories resurface, promise me you won’t do anything to hurt yourself. It’s not worth it. Your well-being and happiness are the most important things. Please remember that.”
In the present, with trembling hands, I took a pen and a notebook and started jotting down my worst memories. At first, I couldn’t write more than one line, because the events flooded my mind. I was overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions—anger that I had gone through something so horrible, pain that was both physical and mental, frustration that I couldn’t keep the past events buried in my mind, and exhaustion from the effort of bottling up my memories for so long. Finally, I let it all flow—the tears and the words.
***
Chapter 34
In the present, I closed my pen and let my tears flow. I sobbed for an entire hour, feeling sorry for myself and expressing my anger at my abusers. I tore the pages of the notebook and shredded them with my bare hands. I imagined the papers were Nicholas Parker, Wilbur Lauren, and Frankenstein. I wanted to rip them apart in the same way.
It is the last time I will cry because of them. Next time, I will make them cry.
Feeling better after letting it all out, I took another long shower. The hot water felt heavenly on my body, and for a moment, I forgot about the Wilbur Laurens and Nicholas Parkers and Pete Hiltons of the world. I used the hand shower like a microphone and started singing loudly. There was no one at home. Even though Madison would be back home any moment now, I wanted to continue to bellow at the top of my voice because it felt good.
After my shower, I looked at myself in the mirror. I had always avoided doing that because it scared me. But today, I noticed every little detail of my face. Miraculously, there were no blackheads on my nose, and my face was acne-free. I’d had pimples when I was in high school, but they’d subsided when I turned nineteen. I realized my brown complexion was flawless.
I leaned closer and examined the reflection of my sparkling hazel eyes. Even though they were swollen from all the crying, I saw the determination in them—to overcome my past trauma.
I will not live with a lifetime of darkness. There is always light at the end of a tunnel.
When I looked at the reflection of my neck and chest, I averted my eyes and could feel myself panicking. I distracted myself by practicing winking in front of the mirror. I couldn’t wink; I could only blink. I closed only my left eye with a lot of effort to avoid wrinkles on my eyelid. I looked like a scary pirate without a costume.
“Teensy, I’m back. Have you had dinner yet?” Madison called out to me.
“No, Mads. I’m still in the bathroom. I’ll come out and make something for both of us. You can relax for a while,” I yelled.
I got dressed in the bathroom and went out. I had never stepped out after a shower with only a towel wrapped around my body. I was paranoid about someone attacking me if I did that.
Today, I admired my face in the mirror. I would be able to appreciate the rest of my body sooner or later.
Let’s take baby steps, Tina.
Yes, even baby steps meant moving forward—toward accepting, loving, and pampering myself.
Later Madison and I sat down to a simple dinner of mixed fried rice at our dining table.
Madison smacked her lips. “This looks so good, Teensy.”
I picked up a spoonful of rice. “Let’s eat it while it’s piping hot.”
We ate in silence because both of us were hungry. The only sounds were the sounds of our spoons on our plates. Though I’m not a chef like Ekon, I cook decent food. Today, the fried rice balanced savory umami flavors from the oyster sauce and heat from the Sichuan peppers. We finished the entire dish until not even a morsel was left. After dinner, we had fruit for dessert, cleaned up, did the dishes, and plopped on our couch.
Madison patted her belly. “I had planned to go on a low-carb diet. But I told myself I needed the energy.”
I gave her an “oh, please” look. “You have flat abs and no extra flab. You have a typical dancer’s body. Now stop body-shaming yourself.” I got up from the couch and pinched my hips through my shorts. “Look, I’m pudgy and have a muffin top, and I’m proud of it.”
Madison squealed. “Teensy, I just realized you’re in shorts for the first time. You look so good. I want to take a picture.”
I pretended to resist her attention but was secretly pleased Madison had noticed. “You’re making an unnecessary fuss.”
Madison whistled. “Look at those skater legs. Next time, you should wear tighter shorts. I’m sure those will suit you as well. They’ll accentuate your lovely curves.”
I shook my head. “Comfort over cute any day.”
“You can get well-fitting clothes that are comfortable,” Madison replied. “Only if you want to, though. Now, let’s capture you in these lovely shorts first.”
I posed for Madison as she clicked photos. I was stiff at first but loosened up with her instructions. We both sat together and took several selfies where we smiled for the first few pictures. For the rest, we made funny faces and silly hand gestures. By the end of it, both of us were rolling on the floor laughing.
Madison tried to catch her breath. “What was that? A wink? I have never seen anything like it in my entire life.”
I demonstrated my scary wink to her again and she burst into laughter. “It’s my secret weapon, didn’t you know?”
Madison clutched her stomach as I winked several times with both eyes.
She yelled, unable to take it anymore. “Stop! Show me some mercy. I will blame you if I die laughing today!”
“Alright, the show is over. You can now pay me for entertaining you,” I joked.
Madison beamed and took out her phone. “I’ll pay you back, Teensy. Do you want to look at my dance routine for the finals? This time I’ll be performing, as well as choreographing.”
I nodded. “Of course, I do.”
