Sometimes my mind wanders back to a painful place. I don't move. It sucks me in like a black hole.
I ride the memory train.
At seven years old my mom had remarried and had another baby. We had moved to a new town and a large house. Something neither my mom had for us before. Our backyard was an over grown grassland. A rusty old swing set was left behind from previous owners. My room was upstairs, in what seemed to be a attic of some sorts. I recall liking this room.
Since we lived so far from mom's work, I didn't get to see her very much. My school was beside our house. I would quite often come home from school. Only once did I stay at school for lunch. I regret not staying home that day.
My mom's husband, had me help clean up our yard one day. I was tired. So, I went to get ready for bed. Put all my dirty clothes in the hamper. Flung my jacket over the rack in the closet and climbed in bed. He came up stairs and said good night. He stopped and looked around. Saw the jacket over the rack. He ripped me out of bed.
He dragged me down the stairs into the basement. Pulled down my panties flung me over his knee and began to hit my bottom with a large piece of wood. I begged and pleaded for Him to stop. It hurt so bad. Sobbing so hard, he dragged me up stairs and made me sit on the kitchen floor. " Stare at the kitchen floor" is what he said. I recall my mom coming home, seeing me on the floor. She went to go talk to Him. They started to fight.
He left. That was the beginning of it. My mom examined me. By that time my bottom went from black to blue and starting to go purple.
That is where my life changed. It was the beginning of all pain I would have to over come at a young age.
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