"The Unknown Catalyst" by Laura Berry
She sat on the floor of her bedroom organizing her sticker collection. This was a normal night for the 2nd grader because she loved looking at the hundreds of stickers she had collected throughout her short life. The thoughts running through her head as she organized, however, were far from normal. She tried not to think about it just in case someone could read her mind. Now that she was alone, she allowed her thoughts to run freely. She did not know when it was going to happen, but she was scared. What would she tell her mom when she woke up with a big pregnant belly? She didn’t want to drop out of the 2nd grade to take care of her baby, but it was what she had to do. However, the thought of taking care of her baby was not as scary as telling her baby how it got here. For a year and a half her dreams and thoughts were occupied by her pregnant belly and the baby she would have, but the baby never came.
A decade later, she was scared, nervous, and incredibly excited for her first week of college. Living in a college dorm with new friends, learning about interesting topics, it was finally her chance to get out of her small town and make an impact in the world. Welcome week was a crazy whirlwind of events. There wasn’t time to miss home because she was taking in so many new and exciting experiences. She was dancing, sharing backgrounds, and testing boundaries with friends that she had met two days earlier. It felt like a dream. The University also had several required guest speakers during this week. One was an old Jesuit priest who spoke about the importance of the Jesuit mission; another was an officer who listed safety precautions, but the most memorable was Katie, a woman who shared her own college experience with the new students. She, the young college student, had been worrying about this talk all week, not knowing what to expect. After the first few minutes, she felt fine because the small, young Katie behind the podium kept cracking jokes. The jokes couldn’t last forever though. This was a serious talk. Katie shared her story of being hurt by the guy she thought she trusted. Tears streamed down the new college girl’s face. She wanted to scream because her insides were screaming. She kept her eyes straight ahead, staring a hole into the wall in front of her so that no one could see inside of her. As soon as Katie finished she walked to the bathroom by herself to silently cry. She had once told her story like Katie had just done; the thought of that night made her want to vomit.
She had just graduated from 8th grade when she laid in the dark with her two best friends. They were in bed talking about school, boys, and their dreams of high school. She knew that this was the perfect time. If she didn’t do it now, the moment would pass and she would never tell. The conversation that she had played over and over again inside her head was about to unfold. Her body started to shake as she swallowed hard to get out the first words, and she was punched in the stomach by the memories. Once she had told them they held each other and cried. The secret was always a part of her, and now it was out. She felt a sense of relief, but nothing had really changed. She was still the same person, and she still had to live with what happen to her so many years ago. She had never felt sorry for herself, but she constantly ached for the little girl that had pain and guilt thrown on her tiny shoulders.
She was younger than five when it happen. She wore a Pocahontas night gown and a pull-up diaper to bed. The night had been so fun. She got to help make valentines, eat junk food, and stay up past her bed time. Her babysitter made her laugh all night. She was excited when he asked her to come up to his room and look at something cool. Her sisters were in Junior High, but she had never been in a High School student’s room before. When she walked into his room he shut the door then walked over to her and took off her diaper. She just stood in the middle of the room. She was just a baby. She didn’t say one word as he picked her up and laid her down on his bed. The lights were dimmed like he was trying to set the mood. He took off his cloths and took off her night gown too. He brought his full grown body down on top of her small figure. He kept flipping her over so that he could rub on her from both sides. She never said a word, but when he got closer to her face he whispered that he loved her in her ear.
Scientist and scholars have not been able to figure out what parts of our lives effect and shape us the most. Why do certain events change our lives for the better while others make us skeptics for life? How do we choose what battles to fight and which ones to let pass us by? I fight for her. The girl who is wearing the Pocahontas night gown, who is scared of waking up with a pregnant belly, who is about to tell her best friends a secret she kept to herself for ten years, and who needs to let out the scream inside of her. Sometimes I still feel her inside of me and hear her tiny, unprotected voice. He, the unknown catalyst, does not define who I am, but he reminds me of how strong I have gotten and the fight I will never stop fighting.
She sat on the floor of her bedroom organizing her sticker collection. This was a normal night for the 2nd grader because she loved looking at the hundreds of stickers she had collected throughout her short life. The thoughts running through her head as she organized, however, were far from normal. She tried not to think about it just in case someone could read her mind. Now that she was alone, she allowed her thoughts to run freely. She did not know when it was going to happen, but she was scared. What would she tell her mom when she woke up with a big pregnant belly? She didn’t want to drop out of the 2nd grade to take care of her baby, but it was what she had to do. However, the thought of taking care of her baby was not as scary as telling her baby how it got here. For a year and a half her dreams and thoughts were occupied by her pregnant belly and the baby she would have, but the baby never came.
A decade later, she was scared, nervous, and incredibly excited for her first week of college. Living in a college dorm with new friends, learning about interesting topics, it was finally her chance to get out of her small town and make an impact in the world. Welcome week was a crazy whirlwind of events. There wasn’t time to miss home because she was taking in so many new and exciting experiences. She was dancing, sharing backgrounds, and testing boundaries with friends that she had met two days earlier. It felt like a dream. The University also had several required guest speakers during this week. One was an old Jesuit priest who spoke about the importance of the Jesuit mission; another was an officer who listed safety precautions, but the most memorable was Katie, a woman who shared her own college experience with the new students. She, the young college student, had been worrying about this talk all week, not knowing what to expect. After the first few minutes, she felt fine because the small, young Katie behind the podium kept cracking jokes. The jokes couldn’t last forever though. This was a serious talk. Katie shared her story of being hurt by the guy she thought she trusted. Tears streamed down the new college girl’s face. She wanted to scream because her insides were screaming. She kept her eyes straight ahead, staring a hole into the wall in front of her so that no one could see inside of her. As soon as Katie finished she walked to the bathroom by herself to silently cry. She had once told her story like Katie had just done; the thought of that night made her want to vomit.
She had just graduated from 8th grade when she laid in the dark with her two best friends. They were in bed talking about school, boys, and their dreams of high school. She knew that this was the perfect time. If she didn’t do it now, the moment would pass and she would never tell. The conversation that she had played over and over again inside her head was about to unfold. Her body started to shake as she swallowed hard to get out the first words, and she was punched in the stomach by the memories. Once she had told them they held each other and cried. The secret was always a part of her, and now it was out. She felt a sense of relief, but nothing had really changed. She was still the same person, and she still had to live with what happen to her so many years ago. She had never felt sorry for herself, but she constantly ached for the little girl that had pain and guilt thrown on her tiny shoulders.
She was younger than five when it happen. She wore a Pocahontas night gown and a pull-up diaper to bed. The night had been so fun. She got to help make valentines, eat junk food, and stay up past her bed time. Her babysitter made her laugh all night. She was excited when he asked her to come up to his room and look at something cool. Her sisters were in Junior High, but she had never been in a High School student’s room before. When she walked into his room he shut the door then walked over to her and took off her diaper. She just stood in the middle of the room. She was just a baby. She didn’t say one word as he picked her up and laid her down on his bed. The lights were dimmed like he was trying to set the mood. He took off his cloths and took off her night gown too. He brought his full grown body down on top of her small figure. He kept flipping her over so that he could rub on her from both sides. She never said a word, but when he got closer to her face he whispered that he loved her in her ear.
Scientist and scholars have not been able to figure out what parts of our lives effect and shape us the most. Why do certain events change our lives for the better while others make us skeptics for life? How do we choose what battles to fight and which ones to let pass us by? I fight for her. The girl who is wearing the Pocahontas night gown, who is scared of waking up with a pregnant belly, who is about to tell her best friends a secret she kept to herself for ten years, and who needs to let out the scream inside of her. Sometimes I still feel her inside of me and hear her tiny, unprotected voice. He, the unknown catalyst, does not define who I am, but he reminds me of how strong I have gotten and the fight I will never stop fighting.