Boom! The sick scent of acid overwhelms me as I try to breathe. Beginning to rock forward and back, I attempt to convince myself I'm okay. This feels like some sick joke, and I'm waiting for the punch line to free me. Fyooooo...fyoooo...cri--cra-kakakaka...Shoom! Every painful moment is a reminder of him, and the memory, long carved into my brain. A final blow knocks me over. It should have been my last second alive. Dark alleyways. Bones cracking as he dragged me through the night. His knees on my back whenever I found enough strength to stand. When we finally got to his home, my clothing and skin was ripped and peeling. Not caring, he scraped through me until morning. Boom! Flashing back to reality, I wince. Never ask why I hate the fourth of July.
