I don't know why, but I love showering. It's just so relaxing, letting the water run down my bare body and get a glimpse of all the ugly and horrid marks that resembled bruises all over. Instead of those marks being given during an intimate and pleasurable moment, they from my excuse of a father and his intoxicated mind and physicality. I tend to blame myself for the treatment I receive from someone I used to look up to and trust with everything, but not anymore. The memories of him using his hands that I used to feel safe in to throw me across the room violently. Not caring about how loud my sobs are or if the neighbors could hear as the canvas fell to the floor shattering to pieces, glass flying onto the back of my leg causing me to wince in pain and tears to trim my eyes. He had a flash of regret and sorrow in his eyes for only a spilt-second which was soon replaced by with a blank expression and an evil smirk as he came closer to me.
"it's your fault you know" he slurred as he downed the rest of his fifth or sixth beer, I lost count an hour ago. " wha-t?" I croaked out with tears still continue to fall, and suddenly picked up by my throat and pushed up against the wall. My feet lightly hovering the ground but touching it slightly. " you know what bitch" he spits in my face causing me to cringe and furrow my eyebrows. The impact of his large hand around my neck only got tighter causing my mouth to open slightly and basically beg for air.
"pl-ease I cant i- cant br-breath... dad cmon pl-ease" begging not to lose everything right here in the hands of my father. I soon dropped to the fall, wincing in more pain then I was in before, getting kicked in the stomach over and over and over again was like a washing machine in my body. Finally, he got tired and made his way to the couth falling into a deep slumber instantly, I gathered all my strength to get up and run upstairs just in case he wanted a round 2.
I let those fearful memories float to the back of my mind with all the rest and got out the shower, wrapping a towel around my body trying to be as gentle as I could. The pain I could manage in the shower but I never thought putting lotion on would make me want to cry. I covered every inch of my body even though the pain was unbearable I had to be soft and smell good. Going towards the closet looking for something that will cover the most cause Hayes was coming over today and didn't want him knowing what happened last night. Finally finding something and I put my curls into a bun, letting a couple strand stay out. Then grabbing my timbs.
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Going to the bathroom and looking for my old friend, foundation. If Hayes were to see these bruises on my neck he would flip shit. I found it, pouring a little on the back of my hand, grabbing my dampened beauty sponge and adding foundation to the first bruise I see which has turned a darker purple then it was last night. I tense up as I apply pressure to cover up the bruises slowly, not trying to hurt myself. I finish up, washing the remainder of the foundation of my hand and drying it off. Adding a little perfume so I can smell good for my mans. I go to my nightstand and unplugged my phone from the charger and checked if I got any notifications, I see I got a couple streaks from snapchat, some tags on Instagram and a text message from Hayes 2 minutes ago.
