The Religious & The Damaged (UNDER EDITING)

20

Joseph

  I step into the house with great hesitation, and as soon as I turn from shutting the door—my back is slammed against it and I yelp out in sharp pain as waves of utter pain run through my body and my fathers words pierce my ears.

  "You little ungrateful brat." His voice sends shivers down my spine. "You think you can just sneak on by, huh?"

  I act without thinking, I push him off me, and rush past him instead of apologizing—that was my first mistake.

  I hear his abrupt, loud footsteps rush towards me and my heart drops as my own fear pulls me to a halt. His hand grasps my collar firmly and he turns me—the lightning fast movement causes a sort of burning sensation on my neck.

  "Look at me." He speaks through his teeth.

  I meet his gaze, and his eyes are wide and tainted with such gut wrenching anger. His grip tightens and it feels like I'm being strangled.

  I breathe deeply through my nose as my lips press tight together to stop me from making any more stupid decisions.

  "You are by far the worst son-" He interrupts himself to say something even more insulting. "The saddest, most disgusting, waste of space and of my time." He exhales shakily, and it sounds strained. "I could not be more ashamed of you."

  Tears well up in my eyes and I try to breathe as little as possible because I know if I let go of this inhale, tears will fall freely and my father will only be angrier.

  My heart aches, so much.

  "Get out of my sight."

  He shoves me into the wall before he lets me go. I rush past him towards the stairs.

  "I want you in my room in 5 minutes." His voice is much harsher than it was 30 seconds ago, and it makes me only fear him more—I didn't think that was possible.

  I limp up the stairs, a supporting hand on the wall, so I don't fall.

  And I walk into my father's bedroom and take my place at the altar after managing to light the candles.

  I bring myself to my knees and a sense of relief washes over me because I'm very lightheaded.

  Shaky breaths upon shaky breaths escape me as I intertwine the rosary between my hands and clasp them together.

  When I speak in prayer, my voice is unbelievably wobbly and I'm in tears, and the familiar thought makes me cry more; I hope my father doesn't notice.

  The door creaks open and I hear the shuffling sound of metal as he removes his belt, and I start to tremble.

  God, please.

  I jerk forward when the belt comes into contact with my back, then I tense. I take a deep, shaky breath.

  I will always feel horrible, for I, have disappointed you. I'm disappointed in myself too.

  My eyes shut tighter and I fight back a sob as he hits me again, and his grunts fill the room among the continuous whips.

  But things happen for a reason, right? Why am I like this? Are you trying to tell me something? Teach me something?

  I choke back tears, but it escapes.

  The infliction drowns out my sounds.

  I don't dare let another out.