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This diary entry is written by ‹Scarlet_Scandal›. ( View all entries )
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being abusedCategory: World
Thursday, 24 March 2011
06:49:44 PM (GMT)
You hear your name called.  Your mother wants you.  She had no true reason for it. 
Soon as you walk into the doorway a glass bottle flys past your head.  Just missing
hitting you.  Your mother screams at you, yells out to you with just nonsence.  You
know not to talk back.   You watch as she wobbles her way over still screaming
obsanities to you.  She gets over your way and slaps you across the face.  You keep
your hands at your sides and look down forcing back tears.  She yells a bit more. 
She grabs your arm and drags you over to her choosing.  Her nails dig into your skin.
 She leans you against the wall.  You know better than to move.  She slaps you again
and again.  She backs away from you.  You step forward, then she pushes you agains
the wall, your back hitting the corner sticking out from the wall.  You slam against
the wall so hard the dull yet sharp corner breaks through the skin of your back.  You
slowly slide down the wall, leaving a big scratch.  Your mother yells at you some
more then jerks you up by the collar of your shirt and your arm.  "Ow!  Momma! 
Please your hurting me!  Please!" you beg her to quit.  She shoves you back against
the wall, you slide down once more.  She kicks you in the side, you scream out in
pain.  She yells at you to shut up.  How can you shut up when you're in so much pain?
 You hurt so much, but she yells for you to shut up again.  She kicks you a couple
more times before she finally stops.  You curl up in a ball onto the floor.  You cry
while telling yourself shes just had a bad day.  You tell yourself she'll apologize
tomorrow, and never do it again.  You wipe tears away and sniffle.  You sit up,
clutching your knees to your chest.  You slip your hand up the backside of your shirt
and check out your hand, a bit bloody.  Then, you pull up your shirt just enough to
examine your sides.  Already bruising.  You start crying again thinking of what
happen just now.  You lean again the corner, your head burried in your arms, and
reasure yourself she was just upset.  You rock back and forth crying.  You'll sleep
in the corner tonight.  You're used to crying yourself to sleep.  Before you close
your eyes to fall asleep you whisper to yourself, "I love you momma."  Another tear
streams slowly down your face, hoping the pain is over and that you'll awake from
your reacurring nightmare you indure everyday called your life.

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