I usually have the house completely to myself before school. Steph and Dad have a full spread laid out. I'm offered to join. Each dish I go for, it's
"Of course you pick the most expensive. How arrogant."
"Of course you go for fried, don't you want your siblings to be proud of you."
"There's only one of that, you should leave it."
"That's not for you."
There are no more options left. I go to prepare my normal frozen bagel. "What's wrong, our food isn't good enough for you?"
I roll into myself so hard I think my neck will snap. Steph is open mouthed laughing. Dad has a blank look, like always. I stomp off. By the time I come to, I'm halfway down Welsh Road to the Willow Grove Mall. I don't remember how I got to Sandy Run. I cry all morning until I buy 3 ice cream for lunch.
The next day, Ms. Schwabenland pulls me aside and says, "we were all worried about you. Your mother called frantic and crying, saying you attacked, then ran away and she couldn't find you."
30 fucking years. Took me 30 fucking years to grasp what was set up. I was 12-14. She was 36. Fast forward to today, luckily I haven't eaten in two days. I'm being forced to live with her for 6months bc she needs my rent money for something. Idk what yet. I want to feel safe. I want to feel free. Will it ever happen?
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To be clear I didn't even say anything beyond "hi dad". i have been struck in private, publicly, ceremoniously, without warning nor explanation. All of them made the first five layers of my body go completely numb, like armor. But the armor also trapped my insides. I was trained to take beatings silently, so I think that made my abuset believe it didn't hurt. I also had screams and tears that built dangerous psi.
Anyways, I think Steph still believes physical assault is common so it's nbd to accuse others of it. Like no good, but not unacceptable.
