Rachel-a - Home City-Final Draft lyrics

Rachel Arthur Final Draft July 9, 2015 Home City I just had one more year until I was in high school. These were supposed to be the best years of my life, at least that's what people told me. They weren't. Some days I didn't even know if I would make it through the day. I kept a secret locked up in me. I told no one what was happening to me everyday after school. I was scared to tell this degrading secret of mine. I feared him. I feared what he would do to my siblings and me if I told our secret. I could only escape this secret if I found a way to get far away from him. My secret stayed locked up inside of me for six long and cold years. After six years I got away from him or at least I thought so. All the strength I had inside of me went to practicing softball. Softball made me forget about what I was hiding inside. Every night I would take long drives to the batting cages that my dad owned. I would hit for at least two hours, or until my hands were so blistered they would start to bleed. I didn't stop because of the pain from the blisters. I stopped because the blood made my batting gloves smell like a decomposing rabbit that had been lying dead in the heat for a few days. I never really felt physical pain, but I think that is because I had constant blistering pain internally. The only way I could escape that pain was playing softball. My endless hours of practice and full ride scholarship saved me from burning hell that I once called home. At the age of eighteen I found myself in Lincoln, Nebraska. I had a full ride scholarship to play softball for the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. I had never been to Nebraska before, but it felt like home when I took my first step off the airplane. I felt like I was getting a new start, a new life. I felt clean inside. I was actually smiling for once. I started to forget about the secret that was 1,617 miles in San Francisco. I really felt like I was going to get my life back, the life that he took from me at age thirteen. “I never want to leave.” Those were the first words I said to my coach when I got to Nebraska, but she gave me a confused look after I said them. I knew she would be the first person I told my secret to. The very first day I got to Nebraska I told her. I peeped my head from around the corner into her office and softly knocked on her door. She was sitting on her red Bosu Ball chair typing out a long email on her desktop computer. She turned around with a surprised look on her face wondering what I was doing there. I never told her I was going to stop by. I was probably the last person she expected knocking on her door. She bounced up off her chair and squeezed her arms tight around me. “Alex! I didn't expect to turn around and see you standing in the doorway,” she said, “I thought you were still in San Francisco?” I gave a soft smile back. Words wouldn't come out of my mouth. My mind went completely blank. My palms and armpits began to sweat. I could feel my face getting hot; it was probably as red as her chair. “Is everything okay? I think you should sit down,” she said. I sat in a light brown wooden chair that was all scratched up on the seat. Must have been from players who wore j**els on their jeans and squirmed around in the chair from nervousness, because I was nervous and I was squirming around. I looked around at all the pictures of former players she had hung up on the white walls of her office. She had a white scroll that was outline in black with Japanese symbols written on it. Looking around her office made me feel comfortable. I knew she truly cared about her players not just as athletes but also as people. The air was abundant of a eucalyptus mint smell because of the candle she had lit. Everything about her made my fears go away. “What's wrong?” Tears started to rush down my cheek, I couldn't speak. I could taste the salt on my tongue from the tears as I said, “I have a secret to tell you.” “I'm listening,” she said. I took a deep breath. “On my thirteenth birthday my stepfather raped me. It's been happening for six years.” I immediately blacked out after I let those words come out of my body into the world. My secret was out. The first thing I remember after I got my conscious back was waking up on the black leather couch in the players clubhouse. I opened my eyes and a bald man in a navy blue suit with a white polo underneath, was standing over me. His eyes were wide open like he just did a line and staring down deep into my eyes. “Hi Alex, I'm Dr. Stull.” The man was giddy, like little kid after drinking a liter of Mountain Dew. “Hi,” I said. “I am the psychiatrist here at the University. Everything is fine, you just lost consciousness for a few minutes.” We didn't really talk much after that, he told me I should get back to my dorm and get some rest and that we should meet in his office tomorrow morning along with Coach Mack. When I woke up in the morning I felt like I had a terrible hangover. My head was throbbing and I jumped out of bed and sprinted to my trashcan to throw up the cheesy enchiladas I had the day before. I thought telling my secret would makes things better. I was wrong. Way wrong. Each day, I got worse. I was looking forward to practice starting up because softball always made me forget about reality. When I was on the softball field I felt free, like I was in a different world. It's weird to say, but I felt like a unicorn because I felt like this happy and strong version of myself didn't exist in real life. This stopped happening, I got to the point where I didn't even want to play softball anymore. I began to have flashbacks of him taking me into his room before my mom got home from work. When I was practicing I began to hallucinate. I would see him sitting in the stands watching me. I wanted out, I felt like demons were controlling my life. On the really bad days I would lose track of time, just completely black out for hours. I would come back to reality and forget where I was. This would sometimes even happen when I was on the field. I would just stand still staring into the stands without blinking. My coaches would have to pull me off the field and sit me down in the dugout. I wouldn't have any recollection of what I was doing when I lost track of this time. My life got bad. I had no control over my body and my life seemed to be going in a spiraling direction downward into a black hole. In October of my freshman year the final string was cut loose. I went into a pawnshop and stole a ring. I don't remember stealing the ring, but I remember voices telling me to take it. “The ring with the gold band that is circled in diamonds,” I said. “This is an 18k gold band wrapped in diamonds from Tiffany & Co.” The voices kept saying, “If you take the ring that means committed and they will protect you from him.” “He will disappear if you take the ring.” “Try the ring on and run for freedom.” I had to walk away from Nebraska and go home because San Francisco had the treatment that I needed. I don't really remember much of treatment because I chose to forget, but each week I started to more gain control over my body again. I stopped losing track of time and the voices that I was hearing disappeared. I would still have hallucinations of him watching me, but treatment taught me tools to make him go away. “Welcome to Omaha, Nebraska. It is 6:58 Central Time and the current temperature is 79 degrees," the flight attendant said in a high pitch voice. I made it back to Nebraska just in time for my soph*more year. This time I was here to stay. I could feel this time I was here to stay for good and that son of a b**h wasn't getting me sent back to San Francisco. My softball team was now my family. My teammates were more than just teammates. Because of them I felt like I had something to look forward to everyday, I reason to jump out of bed every morning. The first night I got back to Lincoln we all went over to Nester's house, my best friend on the team. I was the first to arrive, but shortly after the four new freshmen walked in. One of them stuck out to me for some reason. I've met them before but never really hung out with them unless the coaches were around. Around 10:00 P.M. the whole team showed up and before I knew it everyone was sh** face drunk off Vodka that tasted like rubbing alcohol, cheap boxed wine, and the sugary Mike's Hard they all liked to drink. I usually avoid drinking because I used to drink to get plastered and forget about my him, that never worked, but it was the first night back with my teammates. A few drinks won't hurt right? I turned to Nester and said, “I can't stop staring at her.” “Can't stop staring at who?” “Allie,” I said. “What are you even talking about Alex?” “I don't know, she just makes me feel really happy, I can't stop starring.” Nester squinted her eyes and said, “Have you even had a conversation with her.” “No, you know me I get nervous and awkward when I start a conversation with someone.” “Alex, just go talk to her. She's drunk, this is the drunkest you have been in over a year, and if it's awkward I'm sure you will both forget how awkward it was in the morning.” I walked over to the kitchen table that had empty bottles all over it. There was enough shot gla**es with leftover Vodka on the bottom of them like there was 100 people in the house partying. After they took a shot it was like they thought it couldn't be reused again. Nester collected shot gla**es every time she visited a new state, she could probably pay three months of rent with the number of shot gla**es she had. The house was trashed with shot gla**es. After I realized how sloppy the kitchen was, I stood by Allie. I didn't even say anything, just gave her a long hug. I said, “Hi.” She looked at me and gave me a huge smile. Instantly I was attracted to her. “Hi,” she said. I froze up. “Want to take a shot with me?” “Sure,” I said even though shots are my worst enemy. “Cheers to being new teammate's” I felt something in me change. I made sure to keep notes on my IPhone to remember every detail from that night: Nester backhands a wine gla** as if her name is Belford, continues to fill the gla** with wine Update: Allie think she is suffering from severe flee infection Update, Update: Nester going numb “was that pretty” Nester is the most drunk she has been in 5 years—she doesn't remember, could be from the coke, could be from the plastic bottle so it's okay we will let it happen. Allie tells Nester to say bye to her friends outside (no one is outside) she proceeds to say bye… Allie says, “no one is outside” and Nester says, “the moth is outside…I love it but it's not my friend. It might bite Allie and I don't want her too.” Nester calls me over with her middle finger Throws wine at me Throwing cantaloupe Nester proceeds to try and blow out the sceny Nester touches sensy “OW… but I'm tough…. I can't even see it.” She then says, “Alex farted in her diaper.” I left Allie and Nester alone for two seconds and Nester falls off the chair she was sitting on because Allie threw the cantaloupe behind her back at Nester who dove off the chair to catch it. Nesters excuse for falling “I'm not in shape.” Nester is still trying to blow out sensy From that night on I have spent almost everyday with Allie. “Do you know about him?” “I don't know much, but I know enough to know you've been through a lot,” Allie said. “I'm here for you if you ever need to talk about it." “Sometimes I still see him,” I said. She leaned in and kissed me. My heart started to pound hard, like a policeman knocking on a door. Tingles ran down into my belly bu*ton. I pulled back. I was completely caught off guard. “Sorry, I've been waiting to do that since last night,” Allie said. This time I leaned in and kissed her back. Kissing her was addicting but it made me feel like everything was okay. “I love you, Allie.” I loved everything about her. I love that she was born and raised in Lincoln, Nebraska and weighed 10.8 pounds when she was born. Her favorite midnight snack is Sour Skittles, she wants to be a math teacher while coaching three school sports, skydiving is number one on her bucket list, she eats Gnocchi like five days out of the week. She was a year younger than me but she was mature. She was always the quietest person in the room. She liked to listen to other people talk. I never saw myself being with a girl but I guess my past might have something to do with it. I admired her, I loved her in a way I had never loved anyone before. I loved her thick brown hair especially when she wore two braids when she played. She's 5'4, two inches shorter than me. Her hugs fit perfectly. Her eyes are green with random brown speckles that lay on top, kind of like a pond but a really pretty pond. Allie is the only person that knows every detail about what happened when I was thirteen. “I love you too, Alex.” May 3, 2015 was the last time I would hear “senior from San Francisco, Caliiiifornia, playing short-stop, number two ALLLEEXXX HELLLMANN.” I sprinted onto the field as my metal cleats stuck into the dirt one last time. I looked down at the white letters that read Nebraska that had stitched onto my red mesh jersey. I looked to my left and smiled at Allie, who had her two long brown braids in. This was my last game in Lincoln, Nebraska in front of 2,274 crazy Cornhusker fans. I looked into the stands and no longer saw him sitting there. I won more than just a softball game on my senior day. I won myself back. I stopped seeing his scratchy black beard, and his reciting hairline. His fat gut from the 24-pack of beers he would drink in a day never haunted me anymore. Allie was the one I saw now. She was the one that made me okay. As I ran off the field for the last time I smirked at Coach Mack , "I never want to leave.”