It was more than just a few moments of pain, and they didn’t understand. They seemed to think I should stand and accept the scolding they had bottled up and nurtured for so many years. Why couldn’t they understand what kind of pain they were bringing onto me?
The darting sting of the physical impact had faded, but it was the emotional ache which lasted the longest. They had told me they cared for me, but now, in my doubled-over state, attempting to wrest control over a body and mind and soul full of torment, they were yelling, calling me names, telling me I was worthless.
I looked to the one who had struck me: His visage contorted in disgust, directed solely at me, wanting nothing but respite from my immediate departure.
I looked to the one who had stood by and had allowed me to be struck through her own inaction: Her countenance a blank shield, almost displaying disgustful pity.
In my own mind, I cried out, a shrieking call to assistance from any bastion of wanted care, the din of my own crying wail growingl until it had devoured any other thought in my mind, and it exploded outward, my voice emitting the sound my soul could no longer contain.
They staggered back, injured by the roar of humiliation and loss, suddenly acutely aware of its effects. In it, the pain they had forced upon me was forced back, reflected to them in a moment of dawning, revolting epiphany.
The wounds we had all opened, in my sudden, breath-shattering awakening, sore from head to toe, had been healed, but the scars were ever-present.
In my casted-off state, I allowed myself to tumble back into a dream-state, hoping for happier visions.
Comment on this post below
You must be logged in to post a comment.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.