Roy Samana: Head Banging

She slammed her head on the table again and again, hearing the beatings: BOOM, BAM , BOOM, and seeing the little sprinkles of blood splashing on the floor in an aerodynamic dance. "I didn't have a choice", she will swear a couple of years later, "I didn't have a choice". The first hit was hesitated, strong but not enough. Only in the third she started feeling the blood leaking on her eyebrow, and that's when she became ecstatic. She mumbled simultaneously all sorts of stuff, that there's no need to linger about and it's enough to say that they expressed a certain discontent of herself. The smashes got harder and faster with every minute and in a short, but agonizing period of time she found herself lying unconscious on the floor.

*

This was not her first time of course. Not in this field or in any other fields of self-abuse. She tried a variety of bizarre ways to stop the annoying voices in her head: She swallowed nails, dug in her veins with plastic spoons, clutched arteries in her neck with a clothespeg, and almost last but certainly not least, the way that led her to her favorite: she slammed the fridge door on her head. It was a short way from there to the table - only 60 feet. But when she found it, she leaped on it as if she was full of energy and life.

*

The idea may sound strange, but converting her emotional pain to a physical pain was the perfect solution for her, all she had to do when she couldn't stand it anymore was to find a hard surface and start banging. She knew it wasn't right, she knew that she was causing herself even more brain damage, but she just couldn't stop. The reason could have been anything: from failure in communicating with someone to spilt milk. She wouldn't cry over it, she would just avenge. On herself.

*

In the beginning the frequency was quite low, like about once in a week. She would start hearing herself telling herself how bad she was, how she was never going to become anything, how stupid she was. And then, when she couldn't take it anymore she would light a Marlboro and squash it on the palm of her hand. She would finish like that a full packet in an evening.

The frequency got higher quickly and it came to the point where she would stare at the mahogany for 3 days in a row, she would bang her head, collapse and then get up again for a new round. BOOM, BAM, BOOM.

It was Tuesday when she decided to do something about it. She wasn't masochistic, don't be mistaken. She was just full of anger. And she took it all on herself. That's something that came in heredity.

She browsed through the yellow pages, called all the organizations, but in the organization for the child's sake they didn't want to help her because she was too old, in the HIV organization they told her she was too healthy and in the homosexuals and lesbians association she was asked if she wanted to join an homogeneous couple. She was so desperate that she even called the organization for the deaf. But no one heard her cries for help.

When she set the house on fire the authorities finally remembered to interfere.

*

"I'm lying here, covered with a blanket that is much too warm, my legs are tied, my hands are fettered and only you listen to me" she told her tape recorder. "The view outside the window is amazing but I can't go outside and touch it, it's all my fault. I deserve this."

She lifted her neck in a supernatural power and slammed her head on the wall. She banged it harder than ever, in a force that she didn't know she was capable of. It wasn't long before the lovely sprinkles started to splash again. When the nurses arrived it was already too late. She was frozen in a coma.

*

For 7 years she screamed and cursed, mostly herself and sometimes her father too. They didn't untie her and left her in the isolated room under close watch. She would shit and piss on herself and they would come at the end of every month and clean her. It wasn't from cruelty. It was for her own sake. Or at least that's what they said. In another fateful Tuesday they untied her, washed her under three doctors supervision and informed her, although they assumed that she couldn't understand anything by that time, that she was going to have a lobotomy. A small brain surgery that would leave her happy and with a missing lobe.

*

She was degenerated after all these years, she could barely move her legs. But her mind was still working. She planed to run away from the hospital on the night before the surgery and then go to a pub and drink until her head spins. After they shaved her head she sneaked one of the dull knifes into her pocket and saved it for her big night.

* The escape was fairly easy. She cut the bands from her legs and went out of the room. The nurse that was on duty was sleeping in the counter and she crossed the hallway slowly. She stumbled in her orange pajamas outside of the main gate, waved at the rent guard and got on a taxi. The driver didn't ask too much questions, these were the slow hours and he didn't want to lose money. He stopped the car right in front of "The Cuckoo Nest" pub.

*

She sat on the high stool in front of the bar and chatted with the bartender. "You wore quite a costume... but you shouldn't have taken this place's name so seriously..." he laughed. She also laughed, though she wasn't sure why. With each glass she opened up more, pouring her heart on him. He didn't take what she said seriously, he saw people that were more drunk than that before, but used the fact that she opened for him. It was 4:30 AM, 2 hours before the surgery, when he came in her. "Love me" she begged "love me. Everything will be alright if you'll support me and make me feel that I'm not alone". But he was asleep by that time, and she crawled to the bathroom, to throw up and bang her head on the toilet alternately. "I'm useless" she thought, "I lost my last chance for happiness". They found her in the morning, lying on the floor, crooning "Madness" songs.

*

"I was sure that during all this time she was travelling in India, looking for tranquility" I told the doctors, "I didn't know that my little daughter was suffering". I'm an awful mother, I deserve this. BOOM, BAM, BOOM.