Sleeping with a Bully

I. Moonlight Sonata

The back-handed blow knocked me to the floor.

At this unexpected attack, I landed hard on a hand and hip. Pain radiated up my arm from my wrist and I focused on biting back a cry.

"Stand up."

I carefully but swiftly pulled myself to my feet. My cheek was throbbing and I knew she had left a mark this time.

"Has my absence let you think you can freely roam around and act wanton?"

I curled my fingers into my palms tight, my nails digging into my flesh painfully. I forced a tranquil expression on my face. I wasn't giving her the satisfaction of knowing she had gotten to me again.

"No," I said in a controlled voice.

"No, what?"

I swallowed hard and lifted my gaze.

"No, Okaasan," I answered.

My mother crossed her arms, examining me with black eyes filled with pure distaste. Her black hair was swept up in a tight, severe chignon and she wore a dark colored kimono. She was shorter than me by an inch or two but despite that, I always felt so small in her presence. Pathetic, even. It had been months since I last saw her, months of peace and respite from her terrible temper.

"I don't want to see you act like that again," she said softly and lethally. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Okaasan."

"Good. Now get out of my sight. I don't want to see you at dinner tonight."

Immediately, I turned and started to walk into my bedroom.

"And Terry?"

My body stilled.

"I wish I'd never given birth to you."

My nails tore fiercely into my palms and tears gathered in my eyes. I kept my back to her and nodded.

When I heard her footsteps leave, I hurried to my room and closed the door. Leaning heavily against it, I pulled in another breath, trying not to succumb to the tears. But they were adamant to escape now that I was alone.

I wish I'd never given birth to you.

Pain wracked my whole body and I sank to the floor. I pressed my face into my knees, my arms wrapped around the back of my head.

I wish I'd never given birth to you.

With effort, I staggered to my feet and wiped the tears sliding down my cheeks furiously.

Damn her. Damn her.

What kind of mother would say that to her own child?

I walked to the bathroom and checked my face in the mirror. My cheek was red and swollen from the force of the blow. My lips trembled at the sight. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would reduce the swelling.

My eyes went to my hands and saw the deep, purple grooves my fingernails had made in my palms. My chest tightened, not because of the sight of these new grooves but because of the abundance of white, fingernail-shaped scars that surrounded them. They'd only begun to fade but if I continued to be pathetic like this, to be weak, trapped and spineless, I was going to carry them forever.

I wiped my face dry with a towel but the tears were choking me again. I buried my face into it, sobbing once more.

She hated me.

She still hated me.

After all these years, she still held to her grudge.

Pulling in breath, I blanked the memories out and threw the towel to the sink. Then I went to my bed. There was nothing left to do but sleep this horrible night away. I sat on my bed and looked out the window. The sky outside blazed with stars and but it was the bright yellow moon that drew my eye. And I found myself wishing. For a lot of things. But the one wish I kept repeating inside my head was the wish that I had the guts to change who I am and to be free from the shackles of this household.