Zara's words ...

June 8, 2015

Reading this again, brings it all back.

But at least this time, I can read it without the river of tears and shame.

What happened to me, could have happened to anyone.

It is amazing what stress and depression can do to you and how quickly it can enter your life and turn it into a living nightmare.

I never thought such a thing could happen to me and what troubled me the most, as I look back now, is that my life went from one of happiness and contentment, to one that sunk into the depths of hell.

And did so in less than one day.

Once again, Bill and I have filled in some blanks and finally I am able to present this brief period of my life, as it happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

(Originally posted April 6, 2013)

The following part of this story is taken from hours of interviews and thousands of tears. I am going to let Zara's own words tell this part of the story. A story I was told for the first time, less than a year ago.

We all knew about that night but Zara had never spoken much about what had happened. For many years the only one who knew the whole story, was Jay.......

I never told anyone else. I was so ashamed of myself and I had no idea why. Jay kept telling me that none of it was my fault, but I still felt that if things had been different. If I had made different choices years ago, well ....

I still believe, to this day that I am to blame for all of this. In my youth, I was naïve and scared, as a young adult I was selfish and scared, and as an adult, I was simply scared. Scared of how people would react. How Zoey would react.

I am scared right now. Even though I have made peace with myself over this whole thing, I will be honest. I still have nightmares about it. Sometimes I wonder if what I remember is actually what happened or was it a combination of fear, terror, booze, shame and some enhanced dream.

It seems like it all happened a lifetime ago. At the time it seemed like I was living a lifetime.

It was only 8 hours.

I awoke to darkness. I couldn't focus on anything. My head was pounding from the scotch. I don't drink scotch.

I stood up and felt like I was going to faint. I was all alone.

I heard a car pulling away.

I remember thinking,

'That fucking piece of shit Jeff. When I needed someone the most, he bailed on me.'

I yelled, "Fuck you, you fucking prick."

I started crying again. Reality was kicking in. Even in my half drunken stupor, the events of the night were coming back to me.

I had lost my little girl. I had lost my Zoey.

I knew I never really had her, but at least I was her fun Auntie Zara. Now I was nothing. She hated me and never wanted to see me again.

It was all my fault. I didn't deserve her. I gave her away. I was a bad mother.

I gave my little girl away. I was selfish. I didn't deserve her.

I managed to turn on a light. There was shit everywhere. Broken glasses and bottles. My glass coffee table was in pieces.

Fuck. I had a faint memory of pushing everything off my bar.

I walked away from the mess, being careful not to step on any glass.

I remember thinking that the easiest thing to do in the morning would be to call one of those maid services and have them clean up the mess.

Funny how your mind works sometimes.

As I headed upstairs, I remembered the party for Jay. I needed some cheering up so I thought, 'I will go to the party. At least Jay and Nicki will be there.'

I had a quick shower. It seemed to wake me up a little. My head still pounded. I walked naked into the bedroom and opened the night table drawer, looking for some aspirin or something. There were some pills in a bottle. They were Jeff's. He said they made him feel good. Fuck knows I needed to feel good. I remember taking some. I don't know how many.

There was a bottle of red wine on my vanity. Probably left there after a romantic evening with Jeff. The fucking prick. He just used me and when the shit started coming down, he couldn't handle it anymore. He used me and he was so fucking stupid that he probably didn't even know he did.

And I was stupid enough to think that I was using him.

I opened the wine and drank from the bottle. I sat down, naked, at the vanity, looking into the mirror. I looked like shit. I picked up a brush and began to brush my wet hair.

I looked back at the mirror.

At first I just saw me, but then it was as if the image changed. It was me, but it wasn't me. It was a much younger me, a happier looking me. A me that still had her whole life ahead of her.

A life that, as of that moment, was not totally fucked up.

I touched the mirror and the image disappeared and there I was again, older, sadder and naked.

I started putting on my eyeliner. Which was a joke, because I rarely wore any makeup. The dark coloured liner made my eyes pop out like two green pools. At least that is what I saw. I probably looked like a fucking clown.

I drank more wine.

When I looked back, I saw another version of me. She simply stared at me. She looked so beautiful, so happy, so in control.

I remember talking out loud. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it went something like this...

"Why do you look so happy? You don't look sad at all. Are you me?

You look like me. If you are me, why aren't you sad?

Hasn't your heart been ripped out and thrown away?

No one loves me anymore. I will never be loved again. Everyone I loved has deserted me.

Why aren't you sad?

Don't you know our lives are over?

You don't look lonely.

I am so fucking lonely. I'm all alone.

Where is everyone? They have all abandoned me. They all hate me. I have no one.

Why don't you look like me?

You don't look lonely.

You don't look lost.

You don't look like you're whole life has been sucked from you and thrown in the shithole.

I know you are me, but you don't look like me at all."

I remember putting my hand to the mirror. She looked at me. A look I could not explain at the time and I still can't explain.

I remember saying, "You aren't me. You are too fucking happy."

I took the bottle of wine and headed out of the room. I remember looking back at the mirror and from the angle I was, I could swear I still saw her face.

But it was not the same happy face I saw earlier.

She looked sad now.