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mel.e.furnish

United States

I am a self-published author. I have published four books so far and am working on a fiction series and many short stories on the side. I grew up on a family farm and raise sheep and beef cattle.

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I Had My Chance

May 18, 2018 5 years ago

I had my chance. I had my chance to end it all, right then and there. To end every nightmare that ever haunted me. My eyes remained sealed shut. Tears threatened to burst and stream down my face. Blood began to roar in my ears as the world stopped spinning. I froze up. I couldn't move. I couldn't feel anything. My lips shook as my body begged to scream. Within seconds, memories of the horrors lurking in the shadows of my mind ruptured my train of thought. Abruptly, I was lost in the deep, dark abyss of my own head. "I had my chance." Chills ran down my spine and my blood ran cold. I trembled as cold sweat started to bead down my forehead. Nothing could stop the nightmare flashing through my mind. Voices echoed throughout my thoughts, seeping into my head like a thick fog, clouding my judgment. Sitting on the cold bathroom floor, drenched in tears, there was a pounding. Thump, thump, thump. I stared dully into the distance. "I had my chance." The words like poison, rolling off my tongue and pouring off my bleeding lips. The iron tang of my own blood surged into my mouth. I couldn't stop. Thump, thump, thump. "Their voices... they won't stop... his hands... they never leave..." My faint whispers were soon cut off by an eruption of sobs. My eyes gushed with salty tears. Thump, thump, thump. "Please... stop... none of this was your fault." "I can't do this anymore. It's all too much. Everything is getting worse." Thump. My hands clenched tightly on my messy hair. Thump. "Please... stop... your head..." Her words faded out amongst my cries for answers from something above. One last time, another thrust into the surface behind me. Thump. My eyes opened and I was laying still, frozen in a dark place. A hand brushed against my skin. I flinched. "Please-." I had my chance. I had my chance to break free from the dark place I was lost within. Trapped in my own isolation, fearful of the truth. Fearful of remembering. Fearful of others knowing. I had my chance to have justice. For everything. The lies I told myself, the fake smiles I wore, the fake laughter I expressed when I bore, the filthy words that had been spoken, the rumors, the looks, the sideways glances, the taunting, the harassment, the crimes, and the pain I locked inside. I had my chance to crush them all. To snatch power from them and silence their demands, their claims, and their denial. I had my chance. So I left.

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Reality of Nightmares

Apr 01, 2018 6 years ago

Darting down the store aisles, eyes widened in fear. Sweat beaded down her face; her cheeks flushed red. Voices echoed within her head. "Come quietly, we'll get you help." Chills exploded throughout her as she rushed down another aisle. Her skin rapidly turned bumpy, and as the chills prickled up her spine, it left her blood running cold. "You're important to us." "Lies," the girl hissed under her sharp breath. "We need you." The girl smirked. "You need my silence." "We need you." The girl shook her head in disbelief. "No." "We need you." "Stop." "We need you." The ringing her ears amplified as her breathing quickened again. "We need you." "Get out of my head!" she screamed. Suddenly her eyes flashed open and she was sitting on the floor. She glimpsed around to see she was surrounded by other students. They carried on their day as she got up off the floor on her own. She didn't bother dusting herself off. She cautiously peered around the corner of the hall in front of her as she pressed her body against it. Abruptly a hand touched her shoulder. She spun around to see an adult with an uncomfortable smile watching her carefully. "Beth?"

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A Scar Within

Mar 13, 2018 6 years ago

Lips sealed together, but mind racing. Words on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't speak. No matter how bad I wanted to let them come tumbling out of my mouth, I was biting my tongue. Despite the calm features shown on my face and the fake smile creasing on my slightly shaking lips, rage boiled within me. My thoughts were buzzing nonstop with memories that continued to haunt me. I closed my eyes tightly and I flinched when it hit me again. Drinking, laughing, not a care in the world. A hand brushed along my thigh. My head was pounding and the world was spinning. The boy next to me handed me another drink. My friends sat on the other side. The other girl sat on the far side of the couch, watching as she leaned against another boy. Suddenly everything went black. Words rang out in my ears. "He was touching her chest... He kept grabbing her thigh." "He's a nice boy, he just wanted to share his drink." My eyes opened and I noticed a girl nearby staring at me wide-eyed. I followed her gaze and noticed my hands balled into fists, the knuckles beginning to turn white. My body was shaking. The anger inside of me was overflowing as I shook my head and stood up to leave my seat. I walked down the hall, my head low as I stared dully at the floor. I knew there was no point in trying to fight it. They denied holding power over me, but it was the harsh reality. No matter what I would say, they would still push me to bake cookies, write an apology letter, and then deliver them to the boys and face them to say I was sorry for getting sick in front of them, on myself. Tears began to escape my eyelashes and trickle down my face. I was overwhelmed with embarrassment and I felt degraded. For a "forward-thinking" group, baking cookies for men seemed awfully traditionalistic. Not only was I humiliated just by getting sick, but I was also having to apologize to a guy who had laid hands on me without consent. What burned the most, was the girl who just sat there and watched and didn't say a damn thing was the same one who was supporting my punishment. The others weren't there, they didn't see it happen. What should they believe? I stopped dead in my tracks. I found myself standing alone in a dark room before a tall mirror. I stared back at the stranger looking at me in the glass. There were no tears in her broken eyes. Bruises and scars covered her body. Her clothes were ruffled. She stood tall, head held high as she bit her lip. Abruptly, calloused hands reached out from the darkness behind her and wrapped around her waist and neck. Her body started to shake violently as she tried to hold her ground. However, no matter how strong and steady the girl in the mirror appeared, I could see it in her eyes. Hands had left red marks on her wrists. She closed her eyes as she began to fall back into the darkness. My jaw dropped and I felt my heart lurch. I darted to the glass and shoved my fist into it. The tormenting images in my reflection exploded as the shattered shards flew through the air and littered the floor around me. A silent wail was echoing in my mind. I jumped awake, my heart beating fast and the blood roaring in my ears. My body was drenched in cold sweat. I peered into the darkness to find myself surrounded by the other girls fast asleep in their beds. I glanced behind me and felt my blood run cold. Within seconds of seeing her face, I wanted to run, but fight. I did not feel "safe" sleeping under the same roof as the bitch who just sat and watched him lay his hands on me. She knew his intentions, but there was no help. Then the thought hit me. The only help I'll get from her now is the scar that's been left within me. It will always stay with me, unlike these monsters that surround me.

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Look At Her

Feb 14, 2018 6 years ago

She has beautiful blue eyes and curly blonde hair that flows along her face. When she dances or passes them on the street, the other girls glare at her, green-eyes like daggers as they watch her move with an unreadable expression and demeanor. Sometimes she carries a confident and cheerful smile, but underneath the mask of happiness, she is withholding tears. She loves being around people but hates crowds, because even though she is not alone, she feels lonely inside. Their voices are either a distraction and an escape to dive into with gleeful and silly conversations, or they are screams that sink into her mind and clamor against her ears. The pounding music surrounding her shakes the floor and matches her rapid heartbeat. Her eyes either gleam with excitement when she can be herself, or they fade and become dull when the demons seep into her spirit again. They taunt her with the memories of her prior traumas and helpless experiences when everything fell out of her control. Her eyes widen as they dart around the room. Her breathing quickens and soon the sweat soaking her skin begins to chill. Her blood runs cold. Darkness engulfs her and she is alone in a dark room. Hands are grasped around her wrists. A hot breath with the smell of beer blows over the exposed skin on her neck. Everything's a blur. She hears a deep voice whispering to her. She can't make out his words, but she knows something is wrong. She can barely move. Her head begins to pound as if it was about to explode. She tries to shift her weight and break free, but she is pinned down. Silent tears fall from her lashes. Fear swallows her whole as she begins to drift further into unconsciousness. Her eyes open wide and she finds herself sitting next to her friends. A boy sits near, handing her another drink after another. Thinking back on the past, the pain burns her good sense. She throws the flaming liquid back and finishes it with a few gulps, laughing. In her head, she is screaming. Internally, she is smashing the bottles against the walls and the floor. Her hair's a mess and her eyes are red, face puffy and drenched with tears. The sobs begin to take over her composure. She crashes to her knees, the broken glass piercing her skin and drawing blood. She takes no notice of the physical agony. Everything feels numb and nonexistent, almost as if all her nerves had been shot. The weeping leads to sharp breaths and gasps, the anxiety has triggered a panic attack to take over. Her eyes widen as she tries to catch her breath as her head lightens. Within seconds she passes out. Her imagination is shrieking, begging for her to get help. Instead, she continues to mask her inner turmoil with friends and drinks. She smiles and tells stories to make the others laugh, trying to make them happy. Ever since she was young she lived to make other people laugh, even if it meant pain for herself. Little did they know as she aged, she was putting too much effort into others. Especially people who only took advantage of it. They never appreciated how much she was fighting. Sadly she was giving the wrong people everything she had. Every bit of strength and energy she had left, she sacrificed to make those who she thought she loved happy, but little did she know she was exhausting herself to the point that she had no strength left to care for herself, or those who she really did love. She was hurting them the most and not those who deserved it. She was becoming someone she wasn't. She feared it but tried to ignore it. She fought it but never had enough to keep the demons from dragging her back down into the darkness of her own mind and shattered heart. She had tried many forms of coping but none seemed to be enough. She came to this place to escape her past. She dreamed of a fresh start. Unfortunately, she also lied to herself to the point that she believed that everything was okay. That going out and having fun would be enough to get her through everything she was facing. She wanted to forget the bad and make the good carefree, so she drank. However much she drank, it only seemed to poison the sickness growing relentlessly within her. Feeding her anger, fear, and sorrow. It consumed her and left her defenseless. She had assumed since she was with friends she trusted, she would be safe. Yet, no matter how much they cared about her, the boy was seeking one thing as he traced his unyielding hands up her thigh. Gradually, everything was slipping away and her eyes became glazed over as if in a trance. He had touched her body, grabbing her as she slumped back, dazed. There were no questions of consent, no questions asked if the contact was wanted. She was gone and had finally escaped her own tormenting thoughts and memories. Unfortunately, this escape wasn't any better. It was a weak and dumb way out and only lasted so long, and would only end in regrets that would only add to the pile of her problems. But at this point, she had given up on herself.

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