Random 4 am confession includes violence so imma post it low
I know why Jared called me a snitch and Evan called me a phony. I did copy my mom one time, once I did call the cops on my family.
When I was 15 or 17 in college and living on elm street Evan had just come home again and he was angry. So angry. He came downstairs yelling at me for nothing, I was in the kitchen. He started cussing me out calling me a bitch and a female dog and all type of cunt. I can handle words but it was just ugly man and I didn’t deserve it. I got so angry man. He kept on and on and I started screaming and threw a bottle of robitusin at the wall maybe a pot too. He attacked me. I think I hit him once but I ended up on the ground and he didn’t stop. He was kicking me in the back screaming that I was a bitch and I felt it dawg, I felt that he would kill me. I got into the bathroom and dialed 911- when the operator finally answered I screamed hysterically to send someone cause I was getting beat up.
Thru the tears I knew I had fucked up, because more than anything right? I knew that I was just sad that my baby brother was so bitter and that he could do that to me when I had in my mind always tried to protect and help him. Neyse-
Jared was upstairs, I think he was about 6.
Time the police came they came in three deep. My mom was at a meeting at work. One of us called her I think Evan to explain. Anyways,
They started condescending but we were all separated. Jared upstairs with one cop in the living room so he couldn’t get down, two in the kitchen/living room near me and Evan. I started scrambling to be calm and I explained that the fight was over. My brothers looked devastated. I’m the oldest here still.
Anyway this one guy started in, asking Evan his name. Demanding his name. Yelling and raising his voice. So I looked him in the eye and said, with my hand out, “there’s no need to be rude, officer.” He looked at me like I was crazy and said, “that’s it, take her in.” Jared was crying through the banisters and the police were closer to him then me. I told them I would just need to put on my shoes. I didn’t have on socks and the robitusin was everywhere. My feet were sticky.
They handcuffed me behind my back and started the walk outside through the house. I told Evan to call mom again and I told Jared it would be okay.
Outside, I spit.
The officer grabbed me and said, “if you do that again I’m going to charge you.” I told him I meant no disrespect, I had just had my tonsils removed.
In the car right as they shut the door my mom pulled into the driveway asking questions.
I could hear them. He said he had me. She said, “what’s going on is she okay can I at least talk to her?” He said
“You can shout to her through the window as we take her to jail.”
I guess that’s the moment folks. I guess that’s he moment I became a revolutionary. Or,.thats the moment my understanding of America was solidified.
Anyway I stayed in a cell in the old Gardner police department for hours and without socks or glasses bruised and cold and alone and visually impaired and every so often officers would walk by and look in and every time I thought I was leaving.
They bright me McDonalds and said my mom and brother were in the lobby but of course I couldn’t see them no visitors to a holding cell.
They brought me in smaller yellow handcuffs to Worcester for the night. Because I was a minor they didn’t take me to jail but to some weird holding facility or something like that. The nice old white man driving was all smiley and friendly and when we finally got to Worcester he said, while shaking his head, “you’re a nice girl, next time it’s your brother who will be here right?”
I didn’t say much.
Downstairs were the criminals but since I was just a nice girl I went upstairs to a floor of beds and shit by myself. No cell just an open room.
A white lady gave me a hospital gown and put on gloves. I started crying but she only told me to squat and when nothing fell out of my ass she let me leave. After all the processing the two night shift arrived. They were two African men. They weren’t anything bad but I was pretty afraid that I might get raped. Until one of them opened his dinner. Rice and beef stew and it smelled so good and familiar I ended up just talking with them from my bed. But they just told me the same thing as mr nice white man about how fucked up my brother was and he would be in jail next and I shouldn’t have shouldn’t have shouldn’t have loved him. Plus they didn’t share their food.
When morning finally came they took me to Fitchburg for court. A man was near me they were discussing him from a stabbing he night before.
No food in the am.
Finally the da other connect defense woman came down and explained that I was charged with domestic or assault and battery and I would go before the judge soon but my parents were waiting for me upstairs.
Hours later they shackled my hands and feet to bring me up.
I will never forget that feeling as long as I live.
I didn’t go to a courtroom just a bunch of friendly white people telling me how my anthropologist goals would suit me well and how like smart I was. I would have to come to court again.
In Gardner my parents dropped me off at the Mount and in the student center I explained to a few people that I had missed classes because I was in jail.
But it was surreal and fucked up because it was like it didn’t matter and it happened for nothing and like the world had gone on even though mine had been violated.
That’s probably my darkest day or something.
Man I’m still going
So I never spent any extended time in jail and I never spent any extended time in prison.
But I know so well the system. Too well.
The crazier part is I told Evan about it a few weeks ago and he didn’t even remember. He really blocked it out. It made me wonder how many other memories my family has blocked out and reminds me why I use to journal every single day, why I’ve always been an archiver- because no one is going to amnesia Jason borne me right? No matter what I will always know what I have come through and I will always come up.
I guess probably it just needed to be said.