Breaking

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

The first time it ever happened was when I was 7. Too young to know that what he was doing was wrong, and too scared to tell anyone. I had been beat. Struck across the face with the ferocity of a wild animal. Sometimes it would just be a smack, and others it would be a kick to the ribs or a bruised windpipe. Nobody saw the bruises. He forced me to wear long sleeves and high neck blouses. Mother paid no attention to it whatsoever. She thought it was just a fashion phase I was going though. I only wish it was so simple.
We were a family of three. My mother, myself, and the monster. My mother had been with the monster only a year, yet she decided to be his mistress and adhere to his every whim, leaving me in the dust to be broken and abused daily.
It's been 12 years since the first blow was laid, and only 2 years since the last. Mother finally got fed up with her lazy monster husband, and left, tugging my siblings and I along with her. I was relieved yet scared. What if he came back for me? What if he tries to kill me or my family? Mother picked up on my panic, and reassured me that he was never going to get me again. She had only found out about the abuse after we had left the dungeon she called a home. Since then, I don't need to hide the scars and the pain I feel inside. Since then, I am no longer breaking.

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