Tuesday, June 29, 2010

I ran from you, now I run to you

Hot tears, flushed cheeks, adrenaline takes over I push off the last step. I take two steps at a time now. I reach the landing one more flight and I'm there. My face hits the orange carpet and blood spills from my nose I kick out and push off the step again.
This time it's more of a scramble. I'm slightly disoriented but this is a normal saturday afternoon after all. Oh yeah, I fell because he had grabbed my ankle to slow me up. My speed was obviously bothering his leisurely amble after me.

I slam the door behind me. It would have slammed if my carpet wasn't so stupid instead it just shoved itself along. I crouch down behind the door and place my feet on the wall for good traction and wait.
My nails are digging into my hands, I am breathing so fast and quietly like by hiding my breath it will hide me from him.

And now we play the waiting game.


The blood is drying and falling on my lips. It tastes of Iron it's disgusting like a scab.I close my eyes. I eliminate my sight I heighten my hearing senses, or so the theory goes. He is always two flights behind. He gets bored. He takes up smoking. Goes back to the NFL he records I don't really know.

One shocking shove but I'm still holding strong.


It takes only two pushes this time. My head hits the wall doubled over my knees that were my safety net. He drags me from the room that perspective is always strange, leaving a room backwards on the floor. It's not the pain physically inflicted that I mind, nor is it the way I am flung down the stairs, dragged down the steps I won't walk, the look on my mam's face as she tries to stop a man twice her size beating her children.

It's his face. The pure rage of the man who made me. I'm an antagonistic little bitch. I know that. I never doubted that sometimes I'd get hit because of what I said, but his face?! It is the scariest thing I've ever seen. He spits at me" you fucking bitch, you give me so much shit!" then it's just a ragey spit of the word fuck. He can't open his mouth or un ball his fist because he wants to just beat the shit out of me. He wants to hit me over and over. How many times could he have killed me? Too many to count. The amount he wanted too? would be double that I'm sure.

I smile, all bloody teeth and lifeless limbs. "Don't stop because you have to Dad, oh no, big strong man like you. That's your right! Fuck you, You stupid fucking spineless cunt"


He was the third to know about Johnny V. I guess if you can't beat 'em join 'em.

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