CW: Sexual Abuse. I end the Viber call after my psychiatrist diagnoses me with anxiety disorder, before hopping inside the shower, where I let the water drain everything that’s left of me. Just outside the bathroom are voices, my siblings’ shrill reverberating despite pitter-patter of water on my feet, my cousins banging on the door telling me to open it, and my mother shouting that my grandfather is dead, years after he first touched me and I prayed for God to take him anywhere but here. It’s been eleven years since that happened, and only now am I reaping the prayers I’ve sown.
Isaiah Duey is wading through a vast ocean of worries and writes along the way. She's a practicing agnostic.