HE USHERS ME INTO THE "copier room" -- where they punish people. My forehead is perspiring from fear, fear that's bubbling like acid in my stomach. It feels like my bones are rattling underneath my skin and I grit my teeth to try to feign composure. I don't want him to hurt me but I know that it's inevitable. The earlier I comply the earlier I can get this over and done with.
I place my palms flat on the surface of the table before me and face forward. He's already grasped the wooden paddle, ready to strike me.
"I am doing this because I love you," he drawls, his sickening voice filling the tense atmosphere in the room. This somehow weakens my armor and causes me to crack all over again.
A tremor of pain wracks through my body before I have a chance to react.
"Please- please stop," I plead, "it was a mistake, I will not do it again. Please don't punish me."
He ignores my cries and continues striking me. My whole body explodes with pain. I can feel it everywhere. Like a gaping chasm has been blown into my chest. I can't stop him. He's too strong.
I sit up straight in my bed clenching the sheet at my sides. Sweat beads at my temple and drenches my body, making the material of my nightgown stick uncomfortably to my back. My heart refuses to calm down from its rapid beating, no matter how many deep breaths I take. Shaking my head, I try to erase the sound of the screams from my dream.
My screams.
I drag myself from my bed and stumble awkwardly towards the mirror. My head is pounding causing me to lurch onto the table by the mirror, grasping it's edge just to stay stable.
I stare at my reflection objectively. My eyes are puffy and bruised with weariness. My skin is rough and neglected, I can see the tear streaks down my cheeks as if they had been permanently ingrained. And my hair is messy.
I can't say that I like what I see.
But I can't muster the energy to care either.
The trance I'm feeling is still unclear to me. Almost like a dormant volcano simmering beneath the earth. You don't let it consume you, but it's there.
How do I make it stop? How do I make everything stop?
I press my eyes closed in an effort to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall. I hate crying. Babies cry.
I sit on my table and draw my pen and notebook from my bag pack, needing to write something. Anything.
I stare at the piece of paper for a few seconds before I put my pen on the table.
I want to write down what I feel but somehow the paper stays empty. And I cannot describe it any better.
I reach for something else from within my bag pack.
Exhaling heavily but carefully, I start to write with blood on my skin.
Because the ink on my pen doesn't work in my notepad.
