I Was Just a Child

I hide away in my room, but I can't escape you. You find me, curled up on my bed, pretending to sleep, vainly hoping that you'll leave me alone. As if my sleeping would stop you. Your hand clamps my arm with brute force and I whimper in pain. You whirl me around until I am on my feet and facing you.1

"You little bitch! What is wrong with you?" you spit in my face.2

Shaking, I'm too afraid to answer. It doesn't matter, whatever I say won't be good enough.3

"Fucking answer me!" you yell.4

"I... I don't know!" the voice that comes out of me sounds like a mouse, as you make me feel like the smallest, most worthless human being ever.5

"Oh, you don't know, huh? Maybe you should start thinking and stop being so fucking stupid!" your words lash at me like acid, and tears flow freely from my eyes.6

"Stop with the alligator tears, no one feels sorry for you!" you say as you roughly wipe the tears off of my face.7

I try with all my might to stop the tears; it's hard for a nine year old to do. When my tears continue, you throw me against the wall in frustration. You make me stand with my legs apart, and my palms pressed against the wall. You rip my pants down, exposing my bare bottom.8

"If you cave in, you'll get it twice as hard." you warn me.9

I try to hold myself up. As your hand comes down, the force is so much that I am thrown against the wall again.10

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry!" I scream over and over again, my words muddled by my sobbing.11

As promised, the next strike hurts more, and I can feel the bruises prickling and forming on my flesh. It stings so badly, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming.12

After you're done with me, I try to seem strong, and I keep standing. As soon as you leave the room, I crumple into pieces on my bed, sobbing until I pass out.13

Later that night, mom is home, and I reflect on what happened earlier. I want to tell her, but I know that will only make things worse. I say nothing to her, but I wonder how it's possible that she doesn't see anything wrong.14

I decide to take a shower, and, being a little kid, I love the water. I decide to take my time, as always. When I get out, dinner has already been ready for an hour and it is almost my bed time. I plead with my parents to let me stay up later so that I can eat.15

"You decided to take an extra long shower, so you don't get any dinner." my vile step father says with a smug smile that he hides from my mom.16

Somberly, I head to my room. Due to the earlier events, I hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch, I had maybe some chips before the shower. As I climbed into bed, my stomach growled at me, making it clear that I was very hungry. I lay there, and my hunger just kept growing. I stared at my open bedroom door as silent tears roll down my cheeks. As time progresses, my sobs grow louder, and soon I am bawling into the pillow as my stomach growls in anger. I hear his voice coming from the room next door.17

"Go close her door." he instructs my mom.18

She appears in my doorway, dressed in her night gown.19

"Stop crying." she says firmly and coldly as she shuts my door.20

I didn't understand what I had done wrong.21

As the years passed, the physical abuse stopped, as my mom quit her job to stay home, but the emotional abuse only got worse for both my mom and I.22

When I reached the age of 16, my mom and step dad had nearly broken up so many times I had lost count. On one of these many occasions, my step dad called me into their room. As was the regular routine, I was to stand there and listen as he talked to me.23

"I'm kicking you and your mom out. Your mom likes to mess with my head, and you're a little bitch who can't carry her own weight. I don't want to deal with your shit any more. All you do is manipulate your mom until she's on your side for everything. You use her, and you walk all over her, because you don't want her to take my side. You're a piece of shit, I hope I never see your face again."24

The tears started rolling. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't stop his words from affecting me. You know that old adage: sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me? It's not true. Physical scars can heal. Emotional scars stick with you forever.25

"Stop crying, she doesn't feel sorry for you!" 'she' was my mom.26

My mom stood there, the pain apparent in her eyes, but she didn't say a word. She didn't try to stop him.27

Maybe I deserved it. Maybe that's why she didn't stop him. Maybe she knew all those years that he hit me, and didn't say anything because she didn't want him to stop, because she, like him, believed I needed to be taught a lesson.28

The scars that I have will never go away.