(Background Description: She's currently bedridden at a hospital in Sachen, Inchilen, which was her hometown before she moved to Ably, Inchilen)
2 weeks passed after that very unforgettable day, and I had finally woken up ;according, to the doctors. I have to admit that just seeing the large amounts of attention given to me by the doctors and even my mother was quite pleasing to me. Yet I was oblivious to the pitiful expressions and mannerisms in everyones eyes....that they were..."Sorry for me" ... I think the moment I actually learned about the devastating news of what happened to me was when I remember trying to call the nurse for water. And it was at that moment...….nothing came out...I was silent.....no…..I was mute. And it was from that very day that drive ... that kindling fire I still had in me after the strong mental abuse I endured started to diminish. The optimistic life that I anticipated in the mitts…..was gone.….. Because…..you would think…..if I can't even speak to help myself out…... was there even a point living? I was flooded with such negative thoughts before a nurse bothered to inform me of what really happened. I later learned that the large cotton ball bowl dropped mostly on Ben's head(My mother never spoke about Ben after that), leaving him in a coma, but the impact of the glass caused a large shard that hit me in the head…..and…sliced my larynx (sound box). The nurse tried to console and comfort me with my diagnosis of Aphonia ... .but..why…..why out of all people...it was me with such misfortune.
Honestly, that ill-fated accident was one of the first dreadful and pessimistic events that took place, but there was…. sadly more to come. Months after my recovery period my mother began to enroll me in sign language classes...which you would think would help me to communicate with...'special people' like me…..but it was the same way like school ... .lonely…and desolate. ...I wasn't like nobody…..I was in the middle…..yes, the middle is always the safest place...but that also meant...I was neutral on both sides. Sign language was predominately for deaf kids who couldn't speak too well...but I could've hear quite fine ... ... ..and I wasn't as unfortunate to not be able to speak properly…..so I was considered ungrateful for what I…..used to have. General Societal Attention was a long-term and one of the dilemmas I dealt with. Meanwhile, on the more …'normal side'... of the spectrum…..my impaired life seemed to be pitiful and resulted in me being excluded from most events. You might be wondering….'Melody' how come you weren't sent to a special school? This was because my condition was very moderate in my life and school habits ... so I was high-functional for most things a schoolgirl could do ... except…..I couldn't communicate, that was my third backlash. And finally my last repercussion in life…..which perpetually broke me…was that…normally when you're impaired….you would have a more supportive family ... Yet, no one ever bothered wasting time to find out what I was dealing with…..or even bother to learn sign language for my needs. My family's regret of me being conceived deepened... because they thought…..'the least I could do is carry on our family musical and voice projecting lineage'...But I was a mistake from before…..and still a mistake. My favorite quote was 'Sometimes the only way to fix a mistake….is to erase it out.
Looking past all that….you must think 'Melody you must've really had a good-for-nothing mother'. But, as much as I loathe her…I'll never forget that moment. I was 15 at the time and just done with everything…..it was as if the world opposed me or something….and that very night March 6, 2016…I tried to commit suicide by hanging. Though….I don't know…what made her come back so early that day….but I remember her crying and fiddling with the rope with all her might to prevent it from squeezing my neck and later tearing it off me. I vaguely remembered her hugging me, but I passed out from exhaustion before seeing the rest. I could say so much about how I hate my mother…but, when you see someone ... no an actor bruise and cut their hands in hope for your survival ... .You can't call that not a hero.