All Baby has known in life is pain.
Years spent locked away in an attic to bare the agony of her father's brutal hands.
Family is a concept unknown to her since the moment her mother died when she was only a mere five years old.
Thirteen years sh...
Unaware of the light wrapping at the door, the flip of the lock disengaging, and the shuffling of footsteps across the carpeted floor... that when the door opened to the bathroom, I was unprepared to feel the warmth of fingertips caress over my shoulder blade.
Time hasn't existed for a while now. My mind flooded with invasive thoughts of what-ifs and my ears roared with the intrusive whispers of self-inflicted blame.
It's your fault!
He left because of you!
If you weren't such a cry baby, he wouldn't have gone away!
Worthless...
Undeserving...
A burden...
The bones of my knees pressed tightly against my forehead as I released my pain into the palms of my hand. Muffling my sobs as tears fell from my eyes and fell onto the surface of the bath, causing ripples to dance along the top of the milky water.
Water that has long grown cold and now has a pink tinge to it, which only fueled my torment.
The pain I have only felt once before and wished to never know the feeling of again twisting and stabbing like knife points into my tummy, making me nauseous and sickly.
"Baby..." the deep voice whispered with worry.
I didn't want to hear the voice, let alone acknowledge it.
It wasn't the voice I'd longed to hear.
"Oh sweetie," he said again, pushing my sticky wet hair away from my face.
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