(Take me to my) Safe Place.

I

"S-stop!!" I manage to stutter out, trying to sound confident. Pretty sure that failed.

"Oh yeah," Dad started, getting close to me, making us even more face to face. I pressed up even more against the wall, as if that were possible. "Who's going to make me?"

I turned away and shut my eyes, tight.

He yanked my face back to face his with a move of his finger under my chin, leaning in real close. "You're trash." He stated, spitting as he talked. In my face. It only made the stench of alcohol, menthol, nicotine, tobacco and who knows what else worse. I was utterly disgusted. "Worthless trash." He slapped me. Hard. I fell down on my bum and just sat there, holding my face.

With that he walked out the door, kicking little pieces of broken glass here and there on his way out.

Huh. He didn't bother slamming the doo-

My thoughts were interrupted as the door slammed shut. I flinched.

I was in a mix of emotions- angry, sad, confused, ashamed, frustrated, that was just the tip of it all.

Part of me wanted to argue back. Defend myself. Tell him, 'No I'm not.'
Only I couldn't, because deep down, I knew really was.

Worthless trash.

I didn't even cry. I was so used to it all already. Instead I just sat there, thinking.

Thinking about life.

About death.

About sadness

About pain

Happiness and promises

Things I planned to do to myself, despite promises I may have made.

About myself and what I thought of me. What I considered myself.

My self-hatred and despise.

All the while the name just echoed in my head. I guess it was a pretty accurate thing to call me, 'cause it stuck.

So that was what I was.

Worthless Trash.