There’s no escape.
The back door
I saw before
isn’t there anymore.
When I was little I couldn’t see blood without getting nauseated and vomiting. I remember the first time I saw an animal on the side of the freeway, driving with my mother to a dentist appointment in Silverdale …It had been, before being struck at sixty miles per hour, a black dog, but all I saw was a blur of blood and fur spread out over a few lanes…
I remember what it was to be so young, innocent, and FEARFUL OF BLOOD AND THE GRAVITY OF WHAT IT MEANT WHEN WHAT IS ON THE INSIDES CAN BE SEEN ON THE OUTSIDE. I was PROTECTED BECAUSE MY PARENTS KEPT ME FROM BEING SUBJECTED TO VIOLENCE BOTH IN THE REAL WORLD AND ON TELEVISION AND IN VIDEO GAMES. I WAS NOT PROTECTED BY SOMEONE ELSE’S ARTISTIC INTERPRETATION OF WHAT DEATH WAS on the screen…
It was a process…going from a girl who couldn’t see violence or blood on TV without being affected by it for days, to being the woman who was suctioning bloody vomit out of a patient’s mouth as we rushed them to the ER just a few years later, staring at a head after it had been shot at close range with a shotgun, or holding pressure on the pulsing wound spouting blood out of a woman’s neck after she was stabbed by scissors.