"I HATE YOU!!!" "I HATE YOU!!!" "YOU ROTTEN CUNT!!!", the words rolled around in my head, I winced as I remembered the reason why my face was stinging. I had nearly been knocked unconscious and opened my eyes to see my mom's feet walking across the kitchen. I could hear the sound of dishes being thrown into the sink, CRASH! BANG! My mother was opening the kitchen cabinet doors and slamming them with all her might. I winced, I was still lying on the kitchen floor on my side and did not want her to think about me, "maybe she will forget about me" my inner voice was crying in my head. "maybe she won't come over here and kick me or beat me some more" I was fighting back the tears because I knew if she saw me crying it would give her a really good reason to continue her rage and tyrannical abuse on me and my poor body. She continued her rant, screaming at the top of her lungs "I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS!! I NEVER WANTED THIS GOD DAMN LIFE!! YOU CAN ALL GO TO HELL AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED, YOU STUPID ROTTEN NO GOOD PIECES OF SHIT!!!". She was in one of her bad moods again, violent, raging, screeching moods that could happen at any time, day or night. I was hoping I would not have to lay there much longer. I dared not move as I was afraid that she would see me down on the floor on the other side of the table and remind herself that she still had plenty to be mad at me for and decide that I had not had a good enough beating. My mother turned around to face me, looking at me with such hatred in her eyes, such absolute hatred and rage all mixed together with years of mental anguish and torment showing on her face and said to me harshly, "GET THAT LOOK OFF YOUR FACE RIGHT NOW!!" I knew what she was going to do to me, she had always done this to me, beat me, hurt me, practically kill me and then tell me to put a smile on my face. I found it hard to change the look of fear and complete confusion on my face. I was in pain, I was trembling and wincing and flinching with my back against the kitchen wall. I sat up and tried to put a smile on my face. My mind was racing, "mommy, why do you hurt me like this? I love you mommy" all rolling around in my brain. I used to tell her these things but the beatings and verbal assaults continued. I could not understand why she would treat me this way and hurt me so bad; so bad that it made me submissive to her power, her all mighty reign over me. Instead of becoming defiant, I knew I had to be submissive or she would kill me. "GOD DAMN YOU!! DO YOU WANT ME TO COME OVER THERE AND TAKE YOUR GOD DAMN HEAD OFF!! " "I WILL DO IT! BY GOD IT'S MY RIGHT!! I BORE YOU!! YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT RAPE CHILD!! THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE!! A RAPE CHILD!! I NEVER WANTED YOU ANY WAY YOU GOD DAMN INGRATE!!" I could see her feet starting to quickly move around the table and she towered over me. "No mommy!! Don't!! No" …I was as far back against the wall as I could get, my body conforming to it, I had my legs curled up to my body. She was going to kill me this time. She did exactly what I knew she would, grabbed a belt that was hanging on a nail with 3 other belts on the kitchen wall, pulled it up and around her wrist and hand and with her other hand grabbed my arm and yanked me forward onto my stomach. "Pleaaaaaaaaassseeee mommy!! Pleaaaaaaaaaaaassseeee!! Don't hit me..I'm sorry!!" I begged her, I pleaded with her, I had no idea what mercy was, but I was begging her for mercy. She was not listening, and was intent on hurting me that day. Intent on making me pay!! Someone had to PAY!! The belt whipped through the air down onto my back and the back of my legs. She gave me a good whipping, cursing me all the while, sputtering and spitting as she went. I took my beating as usual, like a good sport. No tears would fall, no screams would escape my throat. I was 5 years old had been trained since birth to take what I had coming to me, and to take it with silence and a stone face. It is after all, what I deserved. I was a bad kid. I needed to be whipped. I needed to be slapped. I needed to be "taught" a lesson. I was always asking for it, I was told. I never once remember asking for a beating, but that is what they told me, so it must have been true.
Through the years my mother continued the beatings, the tyrannical rants, the abuse and always threw in that "you were asking for it", even after I confronted her about not stopping my brother from sexually abusing me at 8 years old, she just snarled and said, "you were just asking for it". I never asked for any of the abuse my family dished out on me, however, I did ask for love, for care, for compassion, for concern, for pity, for mercy, for love, which I never received. I guess a person doesn't always get what they ask for.
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