The Autobiography of Trauma: A Survivors Story of Loss, Pain, Mental Illness, and Recovery

By Michelle Belliveau

The Autobiography of Trauma is a look into the mind of mental illness, as well as recovery. The story follows a young woman and her struggle with the Monster inside of her head. This story takes the reader on an adventure to look at how violent acts not only affect the victim but the family as well. This book explores the reactions to violence, the suffering, and the pain, as well as the different ways in which those incidences can be handled, including the outcomes individuals can have. The authors hope is that in reading about the pain contained within these pages, the Monster can be understood. As well, it is her great hope that the information shared in this work of fiction can be used to inspire recovery and tolerance for mental illness within her community and beyond. Michelle is also hoping that those fighting with their own Monster can see that they arent alone and that families can stand together, because the Monster tries to divide. The Monster has many names, many faces, and many victims. The Monster in this story is not unique to the girl but is everywhere and inside of many of us. When you hear noises in the middle of the night that set your heart racing, that voice in your head thats asking Are you safe? is the Monster, and it is waiting for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514436257

Michelle Belliveau

Michelle Belliveau is an idealistic college student. She firmly believes that her brain is powered by chipmunks on treadmills. Michelle is an animal lover. She believes in the bonds that humans can have with their pets and the healing that can occur through those bonds. She has personally met the Monster and was terrified, but Michelle was lucky enough to have people who cared for her and showed her how to turn the pain within her own head in to something of beauty. She believes in the goodness of people and how each person can change the world, if they just put their mind to it. She believes in the lessons that can be learned, or discovered, and shared within books. She believes all of life’s lessons are invaluable whether they are learned from living life or through literature. Michelle firmly believes that everything and everyone matters and hopes that someday everyone will believe this.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The Night, The Fall

T HERE IS A young woman walking down the street; it is not well lit. Her high heel shoes click loudly on the pavement as she hurries home from a late night study session with friends. She starts to regret declining the offers some young men had made to walk her home. But it felt silly at the time as she's not too far from home. It doesn't seem to be so silly now. She has a creeping feeling, like she's being watched by unseen eyes, and followed by soundless feet. The girl takes off her noisy heels and clutches them to her chest as she starts to jog. Her heart starts to pound hard. She hears the sound of feet speeding up behind her over the rushing in her ears. She screams. The girl knows, without a doubt, that someone is giving chase. She starts to run, she runs faster than she ever ran before. She knows whoever belongs to those feet, that she doesn't want to meet them tonight. Not on this dark street when she is so alone. She's too late.

A hand reaches out, she screams again as it ensnares her waist. The girl starts thrashing and fighting. It is too little too late. The girl is thrown to the ground, and then dragged into a pitch black alley by her hair. She sees the knife in the man's hands, she feels the razor sharp blade kiss her throat, and then she shuts down. Her mind just goes blank. She can't feel, she can't think, she can't move, and she can't comprehend what is happening to her. As her blood seeps into the ground, she firmly believes through the fog of her thoughts that who she is and who she will be, her future is going with it.

I come upon her in the night. She sees the man, but she does not see me, no one ever does.

She survives his attack. The man leaves her laying broken on the cold ground. This is my opportunity and I must take it. She will have a much harder time fighting me than the man. Her fight against me may even be impossible.

I enter her mind, I flow through her veins, I make her forget her own name.

The police come, the paramedics too.

They stabilize her body, but those perpetual protagonists do not realize that I am still here, and she is still fighting me. It is a silent battle.

These heroes cannot save her from me, no one can fight me except the one I enter. Nobody realizes that look in her eyes. They don't recognize me, for I have never entered these men who are trying to save her body, and no matter what they do they cannot save her mind from me.

CHAPTER TWO

The Hospital

T HE DOCTORS PUMP blood into her broken body, but new blood cannot dilute me. I am with her now, and will be, for as long as she lives. She can fight me, give into me, or die because of me, there is really no other choice. There is no one who can escape me, not until they die, and some not even then. I am in her soul now, not just her mind. I will stay here, I like it here. I will make my newest home right here, and I will never leave. Her soul has become my home.

Her mother comes in. I make her unable to respond to her own mother's voice. She just stares. I laugh. She is conflicted, she doesn't understand what's going on. The confusion is aggravated by the loss of blood, the trauma, and by the silence she is now confined to. She doesn't know me yet, but I know her, I knew her the second I touched her mind. She sees psychologists and counsellors. It makes it worse. Every time they try to get her to fight me, I fight back. I will always win. The only one who has the power to fight me is at my mercy. Funny how things always work out in my favor. This is what I am specifically designed to do.

She leaves the hospital physically sore. I am in her head on her way home in the taxi. I whisper to her, Is this man, the taxi driver, safe? Will he hurt you too? You can't protect yourself. You are at his mercy. You have no control. Will it happen again?

CHAPTER THREE

Home Again, But Not The Same

T HE GIRL JUMPS out of the taxi, tossing the cab fare through the window. The driver looks confused. He says something to the girl, but the words make no sense to her, the words become just a tuneless humming. She stands there. She is so confused and she is still several blocks from home. She doesn't understand why she just did that, it was as if she was on autopilot. The cab takes off. A cold wind, like That Night blows across her face. I push fear through her mind. I push the feeling of That Night through her body, I play images in her head, and I send adrenaline through her veins. She is rooted to the spot. She isn't breathing. I start to ask her, Is this the same night? What was that noise? Was it a person? Are you safe? She starts to panic and then she starts to run.

She falls over and over again. The girl can't make her muscles move right, they are sore, and stiff, and the ground is so uneven, the pavement is cracked. Each time she hits the ground I scream at her, Why are you staying down? It's going to happen all over again. Why are you so slow? Did you see that shadow up ahead? Was it him? You know, they didn't catch him. He will come back for you . . . Attackers like him always do . . .

She reaches her apartment building, I make her look up, check to see if there are any lights on in her window on the fourth floor. I ask her, When you left That Night, did you leave any lights on? Maybe? If you did, who turned them off? Is he waiting for you?

She freezes, she is thinking hard, trying to remember. I cloud her judgment, I numb her mind. She is in my power, standing there completely still, she is so close to home, but she can't move. She realizes that she is too scared to move. Time passes and the girl doesn't notice. She just stands there, and I make the fear start. Her heart starts pounding, her breathing starts to come faster. I start to scream at her to RUN! So she does. So simple.

When she obeys my command, she is making me more powerful, and more deadly. She fumbles with her keys. She can't find the right one to get into the building. She can't find the right key, even though it is the one she is trying to fit into the lock. She can't make it work. An old lady is coming out of the girl's building, the old lady recognizes the girl. The old woman recognizes me as well. She lets the girl in, tells her, I'm in 209 if you need to talk sweetheart. I don't like this idea. That old woman faced me when she was just fifteen, and she won. I am still with that old woman seventy-one years later, but with her I am not in control; that tough old woman is.

The girl runs into the building. She pounds on the elevator button. As the doors open, I whisper to her, Do you really want to go in there? I know you're in pain. But do you want to be trapped? Do you want to have nowhere to go when the doors open and he is waiting for you on the other side?

She darts to the stairs, obeying me again. She starts to walk up them, but she is in a great deal of pain, from the attack, from the running, and from all the falling. We get to the first floor landing, I see an opportunity. I ask her, Do you know who's on the other side of that door? Are you WALKING into a trap? She starts running up the stairs. She trips, and against the white carpet of the stairs she sees blood, her blood. The girl's stitches have ripped open. She can't take her eyes off the blood. She is horrified. I remind her of That Night, and of the image of her blood on the cold hard ground. She curls herself up, and she pulls her knees up to her chest. She can't move. She loses track of time.

She hears the pinging of the elevator somewhere in the distance. The girl assumes it's the doors opening for someone to get in. She gets up, I push fear through her veins. I freeze her mind, she's running again. She gets to her door. The door looks as it always has, faded white paint, her gold apartment numbers on the door. She tries to get the keys out of her pocket. When she tries to unlock the door I ask her, Is he waiting for you in there? What are you walking into?

She hears footsteps at the other end of the hallway and those footsteps scare her, she doesn't know who they belong to. I whisper to her, It could be him, you know. The Monster could be on his way here, he could have followed you from the hospital. He'll want to finish you off, either because he knows you talked to the police or he wants to make sure you don't get a chance to. She forces herself inside and immediately turns on all the lights. I note it took her ninety minutes to get from the building entrance to her apartment. That old woman from 209 would have done better than that, even if she took the stairs.

CHAPTER FOUR

Is He Waiting?

T HE GIRL FEELS hungry. She doesn't remember the last time she ate. She opens the fridge, and I let her make herself dinner. See, I can be kind. It is a simple dinner; pan fried chicken, a lump of white rice with butter, and microwaved creamed corn. She sits down to eat at her little kitchen table, and I fill her mind with That Night. She can't eat, she has to vomit. She barely makes it to the bathroom in time. While she is vomiting I ask her, Aren't you afraid? He could come up behind you right now and you would never know . . . What if that was him you heard in the hallway? She starts to cry. She lays on the floor with her knees up to her chest. She starts rocking herself back and forth, back and forth. She hears a noise in the kitchen. A plate being knocked off the counter. I ask her, Did you lock the door?

The girl panics. She knows she didn't lock the door, she feels stupid, it's just she was so afraid, and so happy to actually be home again. She was sure she heard a plate hit the floor, by the sound she guesses it hit the laminate flooring of the kitchen. She is immobilized with fear. She tries to gather herself. She tries to remember where she left her cell phone. I cloud her mind. I make it so she can't think. I know where she left her phone, in the pocket of her coat in the kitchen.

She gets up, she knows He's here. He's come back for her, just like he said he would. She starts crying. She is refusing to die on the bathroom floor. She doesn't hear anything else. She grabs the toilet plunger, the only thing nearby that even remotely resembles a weapon. I ask her, How could you be so stupid? Coming back here? Not being able to protect yourself? Having no better weapon than