Bruises May Fade...But The Pain Still Remains The SameMature

I made sure I got up earlier so I could get in a quick shower before everyone else got out of bed.
It was Saturday morning and I was thankful that I didn't have school today. But I know that wheneve it's the weekend, my mum always has parties late at night.
I always hated it when her friends came over. They were loud and disrespectful and I felt unsafe being around them. I told my mum how I felt but she didn't like it.
"Stop being such a baby." She had said to me.

So now I always make sure that I'm in my hiding place before her friends came over, the one place where I was safe and untouched.

It was never like this when my father was around. Right up until I turned six years old, he had lived with us and we were a normal, happy family.
Then my sisters and I  heard the arguments late at night and the sounds of things breaking. We didn't know how to react or what to think.

So we did our best to pretend that everything was okay. I missed my dad every minute of every day. Not only is he my role model, but he's gentle, caring and understanding, whereas my mum is always angry and violent.
I went to school with bruises marking my skin because I had done something wrong and I was punished for it. I try my best to to be naughty but I couldn't help it when I wasn't fed or bathed.

I missed the days where my dad will be out in the front yard with me, teaching me how to ride my bike and building mini ramps for me to jump over. I mainly missed when he'd tuck me in bed every night, tucking my bedding around me tightly and pressed a small butterfly kiss to my forehead and whisper "Good night Be. Sleep tight, I love you." Then he'd turn my light out and leave me to slumber.
Now no one tucked me into bed at night. I was sent to bed with a kick, or a slap. I wouldn't sleep with a smile on my face but rather cries of pain.

Shaking my head, I wrapped my towel around me and into the washing room to look for clean clothes. I spotted a pile of clothes in the corner and walked over to them to see if they were clean or not.
"They're not clean." Sandra said when she walked past. I sighed and went to find mum.

She was in the lounge watching t.v.
"Mum there's no clean washing." I said to her quietly. She turned to face me with a frown.
"So? If you want clean washing then do it all yourself, don't come complaining to me." She snapped and turned back to the t.v. I slowly walked away from her and back into the washing room. I put all the clothes in the machine and poured in the laundry powder and pressed what looked to be the start button.
The washing machine made a loud grinding souns and shuddered.

My mum ran into the room and switched it off. She spun to face me angrily.
"You stupid girl!" She shouted at me. I hung my head and gripped my towel tightly.
She wrenched the towel off of me and pointed upstairs.
"Go to your room!" She shouted. Sobbing loudly, I turned. She swung the towel in an arc and whipped it against my bare back. I screamed and sprinted up to my room.

I quickly shrugged clothes on and whimpered when they hurt my still stinging back.
I knew that it wouldn't leave a mark, nor will it scar. I know that in time my bruises will fade.
But I know, that my pain will always remain the same.  

The End

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