BELLADONNA

Chp20: yes or yes

After meticulously covering the slit cut on my throat with makeup and a turtle neck to ensure it remained completely hidden, I cautiously descended the creaky wooden stairs. I was determined to avoid any thoughts about the mysterious origin of my injury or the disturbing incident-whether it was a hallucination or some nightmarish reality-that had led to it. As I reached the bottom step, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling egg wafted through the air, momentarily distracting me from my troubles. The familiar sounds of morning activity-the clinking of dishes, the low hum of the radio-provided a comforting backdrop. Pushing aside my swirling thoughts and fears, I took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen, hoping to find solace in the simple routine of breakfast.

We were all seated around the dining table, having our breakfast in an uncomfortable silence. It was usually this quiet during our meals, whether it was breakfast or dinner, a silence that felt almost oppressive. The only times it was broken were when my father, a relentless misogynist, decided to seize the opportunity to degrade us. His harsh voice would cut through the quiet, dripping with disdain as he belittled us with every chance he got.

This morning was no different. I could feel the tension building as he glanced around the table, his eyes settling on me with a familiar look of contempt.

"You really should lose some weight,"

he began, his tone icy and judgmental.

"Or maybe try doing something productive for once, instead of wasting your life staring at that phone."

My stomach tightened, and the food on my plate suddenly seemed unappetizing. Every word felt like a dagger, each one a reminder of how little he thought of me. I looked down at my plate, trying to tune out his relentless criticism, but his words echoed in my mind. My mother and siblings sat quietly, their eyes fixed on their own plates, as if trying to make themselves invisible.

The silence that followed his tirade was even heavier, the atmosphere thick with unspoken pain and frustration. I longed to defend myself, to shout back and tell him how his words hurt, but years of enduring his constant belittlement had taught me that it was pointless. Instead, I forced myself to take a deep breath, swallow the lump in my throat, and focus on getting through the meal. The familiar routine of breakfast provided a small measure of comfort, even if it was tainted by the ever-present shadow of my father's cruelty.

He constantly tells us to be productive, comparing us to other kids who excel in various leisure activities. It's not that encouraging your children is a bad thing-in fact, it's important-but he never encourages us. Instead, he only degrades us, and his tone is nothing short of infuriating. It makes me so frustrated because to participate in these leisure activities, you need money and permission, neither of which we ever receive.

When it comes to my weight, for example, he's always telling me to exercise. But when I suggest joining a gym, he dismisses the idea, insisting I should work out at home. He expects us to do everything-every leisure activity-within the confines of our house. It's absurd and unrealistic.

And then he has the nerve to complain about me talking to my friends or using my phone. What does he expect me to do? I feel trapped, with no outlets for my frustrations or any means to enjoy the things he criticizes me for not doing. Sometimes it feels like he's pushing me into an impossible corner, and I don't know how to escape.

If he's not criticizing us, he's bragging about his supposed heroics from the past. He loves to boast about his glory days, constantly quoting himself as the most famous boy in school and college. He never misses a chance to remind us how he excelled in both academics and swimming, claiming he was the favorite kid of all the teachers and a role model for every student. He often talks about his skills in riding bikes and the large circle of friends who all depended on him, painting himself as the ideal son who always obeyed his parents without question.