“Why would I lie about this mom?!” I shout at my mother, tears stream down my face. The look of shock stands, frozen on her features. She repeats herself, still trying to process the bomb that I dropped on her.
“No, he would never do that.” Her hands shake even as she attempts to refuse what she hears. I watch as she sits slowly, trying to gain some kind of composure. It’s futile, you aren’t faced with this kind of truth every day. Angrily wiping at my tears, I sob harder trying to get her to understand - to listen to me.
“I’m not making this up! Just look at them!” I shake as I yank my shirt up, exposing the horrific bruises once more, her eyes travel the expanse of each one. Fresh tears garner her eyes even as a slight whimper falls from her lips.
She still doesn’t want to believe that he would do this. Hot tears cascade down my cheeks in burning trails of betrayal, heartbreak, and shame. Her hands cover her mouth, she shakes her head slowly, trying to deny the harsh reality that has fallen to her.
“He couldn’t have. He loves you.” Her voice cracks as she tries to assure herself, I see it failing. The signs she has ignored for years finally rearing their ugly heads up with a need to be seen. To be understood and acknowledged. She failed to recognize them in their innocence and now they’ve come back with a vengeance that will haunt us forever.
Their vengeance will strain and test our relationship, it’ll drive a wedge between us in the years. It’ll push us further apart than any distance could; time will be the only thing to sooth the wounds. My frustration builds even as I stress to her, pleading with her to understand and listen to me.
“Mom, please listen to me. I’m not lying to you, why would I?” I’m the one left in pain, my soul shattering, the shards cut me deep. The bruises that have painted my skin with ugliness, can’t compare to the ugliness that consumes me.
The attack leaves me feeling like I’m a scared little girl, already broken from the harsh cards that I have been dealt. Sobs rattle my form, pain radiates from my core, sounding like a call from an injured animal. I ran from the room sobbing earnestly.
My feet pound up the stairs, expressing my pain to the world. Tears continue to stain my cheeks, no matter how much I wipe them away they always come back. I move faster, and stronger like some kind of persistent storm that refuses to break. Slamming my bedroom door for some kind of dramatic finale to the conversation of nightmares.
My bottled up emotions finally spill over the edge, to release in some kind of confused downpour. The failure of a conversation leaves me pained, I struggle to catch my breath, my lungs burn at the uncomfortable rhythm.
Why can’t my mother just accept it? My legs carry me across the cool hardwood floor. Closing my eyes I stand in the center of my room my emotions claw at my mind. I want to jump onto my bed, and scream into my pillows like some child having a tantrum.
My eyes seem to fix themselves to an old picture of a happy little girl - me to be exact. A floral church dress, black flats and a bow in my caramel brown hair. My bright blue eyes shone with happiness. A family photo of happy memories only stirs terror and anger deep within.
Storming forward my hands reach for the picture frame that spews lies of a happy family church picnic. My tears seem to stream down my face like torrential rain, I launch the frame as far as I can feel my sadness, anger, and fear overwhelm me of the new monster that stares back.
I wheeze as my lungs refuse to draw in air, my fear only rises more. Crawling onto my bed, I want to hide from the world. My pillow grows wet as I fight for my breath. Wallowing in my misery seems to be the only reprieve my body will allow for my mind.
Curling my legs into my chest, I to hide like a little child. A young girl shouldn’t feel this way, a young boy shouldn’t feel this way. Why is this happening? Why does it feel like my world is crumbling around me?
The pain that beats from my heart leaks into my blood, making me feel more tainted and hurt. No physical pain could come close to what I feel now. My door creaks open, with a sniffle I bury my face into my pillow.
I refuse to acknowledge her, my face burns with some emotion. My emotions have become so jumbled it’s impossible to decipher them. I don’t understand it, it feels like she has failed me, the actions of a monster already work to tear us apart.
The amount of pain that settles in my belly makes me cry harder. My soul is crying the hardest, the monster that’s tearing my family apart was part of it. We share the same blood, and yet their blood is so tainted with evil they can’t restrain their twisted desires.
That’s what hurts the most, that a family member did this to me. I grew up with them, they loved me, yet they hurt me? Hiccupping I whimper, the little air in my lungs get knocked out from me, startling me more. The bed shifts, my mother lays down, while she wraps her arms around me, pulling me close. No words are spoken at first, both of us being affected by the actions of a man with tainted blood. “We’ll get through it.” My mother whispers, her voice broken, much like my soul.
Her hurt comes from association with the monster, nothing like actual injury. Turning I grab onto her, I just want to feel some kind of safety from the embrace.