When I was eleven years old, my mom was brutally attacked in our home and left for dead. She was in the hospital for two weeks and had a bloodclot on her brain that was surgically removed. She damn near died. While her physical injuries were treated, she never wanted to address the emotional injuries caused by this attack.
We were changed people after that event, and not for the better. While she struggled to hold her life together and pretend like nothing happened, I felt alienated and alone. Everyone stuck their heads in the sand and pretended like nothing ever happened. But we were changed.
Where were the adults? Where were the doctors and the policemen? Where were her brothers and mother and father? Where was my father? Why did all these people shirk their responsibilities to us? Why was it so much easier to leave us alone?
To those of you who were there and did nothing: Fuck you, you weakass, self-centered, self-absorbed motherfuckers. The inside of you stinks like guts of a dead fish. Your stench is known to all around you, and it tells the tale of fathers who did nothing, policemen who looked the other way, neighbors who whispered under their breaths, doctors who sat silent, and of a community that did not care.