Flinch

prologue

prologue

7.5.15

when I was little, my dad always used to call me Daisey girl. other than that, I don't really remember much of him. I have memories here and there but nothing substantial. I try to only remember the best of him, because far too often people are only remembered for the worst parts of them, and if that's all any of us are remembered for then why have any good in the first place.

I've always tried to suppress the worst memories I have of him, my father. I hate talking about the bad ones, but when I do, I feel weak and broken, and if that wasn't give away enough when ever someone raises a hand near me, I flinch.

I've never told anyone before, not even my mom, that my dad abused me. I think my mom always knew, but she was too scared to ever say anything.

And she didn't have to. Because one day, on his own, he left us. He packed up his things while I was at school and my mom was at work.

We've never heard from him or seen of him again.

but he still left mass destruction in his wake, because right now, writing this down on paper, I still squirm at the thought of my purple skin and flinch at the thought of his raised fist as he would angrily tell me that I could never tell mom about how daddy had hit me.

I think my father would be proud, all these years and his secret was still safe with me.

until now.