Miss Sacrifice

Jaaliyah

After being interrogated and slapped by my dad about who I was talking to, I went to take a hot shower. I let the the water run as I stood in front of the mirror looking at my body from head to toe. Looking at the bruises that marked my body, reminding me of the way each and everyone of them were inflicted. I looked at a specific one on my upper left thigh, I was lucky that it was only a bruise and didn't actually cut my skin. My dad came home drunk one night while I was setting the table for dinner, and he went over to the stove to taste the chicken and rice I'd made. He complained that the chicken was too salty and that the rice was too dry--only because his mouth was stained with liquor. With the anger that was built up in him, he grabbed the closest thing he could--an empty pan-- and whacked me with it. The rest of that day he did not taste a thing of what I'd made, not even the iced tea.

My eyes moved on to the next bruise on my arm from hard punches, then my face from rough slaps, and even my butt from hard grips. I felt the heat rising in the room and the mirror fogged up due to the hot water and suddenly remembered about the shower. I went in and allowed the scolding water to run down on my body, hoping that it would burn all the pain away. Although it burned I didn't care at the moment, when I couldn't take it anymore, I mixed the hot with cold water to cool it down. I placed my hands on the wall as a leverage to not fall down as I cried and wept. I thought of spending the next day with Malik, letting him see my bruises and telling him about everything. I could tell he's been curious about my face since the day he's seen it, and I wanted to tell him but couldn't bring it up. I lathered myself as if I was trying to wash off every impurity but it never seemed to work. Silly me.

After about an hour in the shower of crying and crying I finally had the courage to drag myself out and into my room. I didn't bother to dry myself off, not caring if I'd get sick and went under my covers with the towel still wrapped around me. I didn't check my phone after that shower knowing that no one would text me. I wanted to talk to Malik but I knew my voice would give off my mood and I didn't want to break down and end up telling him something he couldn't handle. I plugged my headphones in and played my favorite track list and stared up at the ceiling fan. I didn't know when tears fell out of my eyes the same as I didn't know when I fell asleep, I only woke up to the hard knocking on my bedroom door. I knew who it was and I was not prepared to wake up to the same living nightmare as always. I thought dads were suppose to bring comfort and love to their daughters.