Clear Out

I never understood what people meant when they said they’d had an ‘out of body experience’ until I started clearing my room.

I worked in a daze, unrolling a garbage bag from the roll, opening a drawer… and dumping the contents straight into it.

My Mom had said everything, absolutely every possession I had was to be thrown out. I could keep nothing and trying to, I knew, would be pointless. Looking at my closet I felt humiliating pangs of longing… I could try and get dressed, there was nothing physically stopping me… maybe pull on some clothes in a ****, defiant bid to get someone to recognise me as a person… But every time I felt like I might have a chance of escaping this fate, I’d catch a glimpse of my reflection again and sob; seeing no one there – just a naked Alexa obediently putting trash into bags.

Getting dressed wouldn't save me... It would only delay the inevitable, and make my parents extremely angry with me for good measure...

You probably think clearing my room took hours, but the humiliating truth is that it didn’t… it was disturbingly quick.

If you went to tidy your room, you’d weigh up what to keep and what to trash. You’d think about each thing you picked up and have to consider if you wanted it, if it was important or if you could just get rid of it.

I didn’t have that luxury... There were no choices to make... It was all going straight into the trash anyway.

It’s alarming how quickly things can disappear when you don’t have to worry about sorting them first.

As I bagged up my life for disposal I found it even more humiliating that there was something inside me, some deep seated masochism that wanted to do this. That thought that if I **** myself to do this now, maybe it might make it easier later… if I deliberately cut off all of my own hope of escape I might stop myself from feeling the painful yearning, the jealousy, of wanting to be normal again. Like, maybe the harder I made it for myself to return to normal… the less I’d want to…

I was an idiot.

But I listened to the self-sacrificing voice that almost wanted me to ruin my life, just to see what would happen, a voice that got excited that I was doing this to myself; ruining myself by destroying all evidence of my old normal life… so there was nothing to go back to…

I hated myself, but I couldn’t stop. What could I do?

I couldn't bring myself to really look at the contents of my closet, I just opened the doors and started grabbing everything that I could. Stuffing garment after garment into a bag - throwing out the very things I'd begged and pleaded for - clothes.

I felt like I was lost at sea - dying of thirst surrounded by water I couldn't drink... Only I was naked and surrounded by clothes I couldn't wear...

I sobbed as I emptied my desk, throwing out my yearbooks in one unceremonious pile. My old tests, my diplomas, my driver’s license, my passport… they disappeared into a bag. Taking down photos from the walls made me cringe… I knew what I was looking at was me and yet my mind continued to tell me that there was one less person in every photograph.

By the time I was done there was nothing left in my room except the bare furniture; it didn't look lived in - a blank canvas for the twins to squabble over. The only evidence it was ever mine now sat in 15 black sacks at my feet.

I sobbed meekly to myself. Knowing I wasn't done... Mom wouldn't be satisfied until I'd obeyed completely... She'd said search the whole house for anything that was mine and throw it out... That meant a humiliating tour of the house, a last black bag in my hands as I threw out all my toiletries from the bathrooms, dumped all of my bags and coats and jackets and gathered up all of my shoes from the hall.

As I walked by the living room I whimpered, glancing inside. My Mom was sitting on the sofa, papers all over the coffee table in front of her as she cradled a phone to her ear. She barely even acknowledged me, only looking up at the sound of the rustling bag. The TV was still on the same news show, playing to itself.

I wanted to beg her to let me stop but I couldn't find the strength to say anything - I was despondent, mortified and frustrated with myself that I couldn't even muster the courage to beg my own Mother to let me keep my own possessions... my own clothes...

But I knew if I interrupted her she'd be furious... She gave me an instruction and she'd made it absolutely clear that there was no room for argument... I was an Alexa, I was meant to obey...

I almost screamed, jumping in horror, when someone knocked on the front door.

My eyes flew wide in embarrassed panic and fear. I was standing naked in my parents hallways, clutching a garbage bag to my bare pink pussy in a **** attempt at modesty. If the door opened whoever was knocking would see me, all of me...

My Mom looked up with a frown, I expected her to look at me, but she didn't, she just tipped her head to try to see round the corner towards the front door. After a moment she moved the phone to her chest and covered it with her hand.

"Alexa, answer the door..."