if I didn't know how little I mean to him already I'd be insulted by this but this is nothing new infact this is tame compared to how things used to be. Neither I nor my sister ever mattered not to him be it debilitating period cramps, a cut, a bruise it really didn't matter our pain simply doesn't matter the only person who's pain matters is mom's "help your mother can't you see she's in pain" "it doesn't matter you need to help your mother" "your going to have to learn to deal with it" "pain builds character" she is all he bothers to care about and even then he doesn't always care about her either. The fear that plagues my childhood an everlasting shadow in my brain I'll never forget the names I'll never forget how useless I am it's been pounded into my brain like a nail I am nothing I am worth as much as a rotting corpse.
In public my world looks perfect a "loving" mother and father. A joyful sister smiling brightly. Yet reality couldn't be further from the truth. A Father threatening. A Mother forgetting the countless times this has happened before. A child hiding her emotions in the public. A teen acting as if it's a tornado warning to forget the feel of his fists. chasing a car down and hoping in knowing that even though he's bound to hurt you again you are dependant on him for survival. Twisting your ankle jumping out of a car in a feeble attempt to escape. being viciously yanked around by the hair. This is just a sample. They wonder why we don't cry at funerals they're the lucky ones the ones who escaped.
You will never see me cry for you are cause good luck and remember "pain builds character you just don't have enough yet"
YOU ARE READING
Devrosian Truth
DuchoweThis is the story of Aribella Tynskey and Mira Draken the author and the editor. This is a story of passion, hardship, struggle, but most of all love. This is the story if how they met... a real life journey. Both spiritual and physical.
