Writing Pieces

Masu

As a child, she was a victim too.

She did her best to please others, but her father was constantly bearing down on her.

She watched him hurt people without a second thought.

"You'll never be good enough."

She didn't have the best grades.

She wasn't involved in any social groups or people of high standing.

The way she was headed, she would be a commoner.

"You're stupid."

She'd cry sometimes when they argued.

He'd tell her she was dumb.

To stop being so emotional just because she was a girl.

"You're disgusting."

Nothing she could ever do was good enough for him.

She got into theater for him, but everyone else was better at singing to him.

She put effort into sports, but she wasn't as athletic as the other girls and she never heard him cheering for her.

She studied a lot to raise her grades and even joined a math league and geography club but he never showed up to watch her competitions.

.

.

.

She watched as he tore her down, and stayed silent.

He was the disgusting one, not her.

She hadn't done anything.

.

.

.

Even after he was gone, he was still there, in her mind.

His words seared into her heart like a wound being cauterized.

And when her mother spoke about him, a few singular facts remained in her memory.

He didn't feel emotions the same way as other people.

He didn't understand why people felt the way they did.

And by the time she grew up and saw her own child starting to lack emotional intelligence in the same abnormal way, she grew fearful.

And she repeated the cycle.