Shouldn't

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 - 𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

-IVORY-

"Now"

That demanding voice said again and I felt this push towards the table. As if it was a war in my head about actually doing it. I was looking at him and back towards the table. Thinking of everything that was his fault, his mistakes.

The fight in my head kept going for what seemed like forever until.

"A little bitch just like I said, like your mother. You'll always be a disappointment, always fucking up never doing great. I hate calling you a daughter"

Hearing those words, the fight in my head was over. In that very second it was like my body wasn't mine. I felt small in my body and I could still see everything but it didn't feel like me.

"You want me to make you proud" I say but it was that deep powerful voice from earlier.

"Oh please do" He says shortly.

I guess I nodded and picked up something before I swinged it at his face. Hearing his scream and cry was enough to make whatever in me happy and I felt like I was in my own body again, but that powerful feeling was still there.

"That's all you got?" He whimpers out as he spits out blood.

"Show him you're stronger than he thinks you are, make me proud. Make him proud"

Who are you?

"Do it and I'll answer all questions"

"See weak, can't never do anything I ask, maybe I should've gave you to my friends-"

Something snapped as he kept talking, as he kept degrading me like always. I was tired of it, so tired.

I grab onto the thick metal pole, looking at it before looking back at him. He was still talking about me being a failure. How can someone be so evil while bleeding out?

"Kill him"

Then it was a push and the medal pole hitting against his body. He let out a cry, but I couldn't stop. I kept hitting every part of his body. Yet he was still yelling insults.

I stopped and started lightly crying.

"You never stop do you" I ask through tears he scoffs and glares at me.

"Not until I die you weak little bitch" He spits on me, making me gasp.

Looking down at my shirt seeing spit I looked up at him seeing a smirk, and in that second I didn't feel like myself. I wanted to hurt him, I wanted to prove I wasn't weak, I wanted to make him feel, to feel proud.

And I was going to do just that.

I grabbed a bat and just started swinging every which way. Every part of his body I made sure to hit with all my might. Overthinking every time I was hit, thrown, raped, touched, just anything bad that was caused because of him.

The only thing to be heard was the bat swinging fast in the air, his mixed yells and cries, and finally my soft crying. I started crying and hitting even harder, starting to feel my arms start to ache but I didn't want to stop.