There is two sides to every story. I can only tell you my side. The way I remember things. The way I saw life. I’m not trying to make anyone look bad. That’s not my job. Names aren’t important. My name isn’t important. As I am writing this, I’m debating on trying to publish it or not. If I do, my name will not be disclosed. Because as I said, it’s not my job to point out that bad in people. I am simply explaining myself, so if you ever are to meet me, you will understand me a little better. Or maybe I am still trying to understand myself.
I remember the first time it happened. I remember lying on the concrete floor, looking up at the ceiling. I was still trying to catch my breath. My head was pounding. My eyes were still taking a minute to focus. I felt like all my other sense were stronger than ever. I could hear every step she made upstairs. I could hear my heart beat. I could smell laundry detergent, and blood. I could still smell her breath, the smell of musty cigarette, It was so strong I would of thought she was an inch from my face. I felt the cold concrete floor against my neck and arms. I could feel my hair drenched. I could taste detergent and blood in my mouth. Why did I taste so much blood. Finally things began to focus. I could see straight, I was able to move. I slowly got up from where I was laying on the floor. I looked down at my hands and arms, I had blood everywhere. What the hell? Where did all this blood come from, my hair was crusted in blood. I could see blood all over the concrete floor, there was soap bubbles all over the floor. Mixed with the blood, it all looked pink. In my hand was rags and next to me was the mop bucket and mop, I had a mess to clean up. Finally, I could collect my thoughts, and realized what just happened.
I was upstairs, when she yelled for me, “Get your ass down here right now.” At the moment I remember I was playing with my horse figurines. I threw them down, and I ran down the stairs. She was standing in the kitchen. I remember that kitchen like it was yesturday. The tiles were black and white, old white kitchen cabinets. She was standing by the kitchen sink, leaning against the counter, facing me, hands behind her on the counter. She looked mad. “What did you do?! Are you retarded?!!” At first I had no idea what she was talking about. “How hard is it to follow directions dumbass?” I still had no idea what she was talking about. Than she came over to me, and grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me down the stairs. They were old concrete stairs. It was an old farm house, so the basement kind of freaked me out. I tripped on the way down and fell forward to the stairs, I remember feeling my nose hit the stair, the pepper feeling, the instant headache. Moments later I tasted blood. A moment later she yanked me back up to a standing position. She told me to look what I had done, I looked in front of me, there was soap suds everywhere. I had overfilled the washer machine of clothes and too much soap. The floor was covered. It was an old washer. She shoved the piece of paper in my face with my instructions, the directions I didn’t follow while doing laundry. I remember I flinched, my nose hurt still, when she pushed the paper in my face it hurt. She asked why I flinched, and I told her why. She asked so would this hurt, and she backhanded me. I was taken back, never had anyone hit me like that before. Never had I felt a pain like that. She than pushed me down, and shoved my face into the concrete, into the water and soap mess I had made, she had me by the back of my head, she slammed by face into the concrete multiple times. One .. Two … Three, she was yelling at me, she was inches from my face but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. My mind started feeling fuzzy. My vision was blurry. She threw me down, and stood up, and told me how worthless I was. and then kicked me in my ear. I don’t know how long I was laying there. I just remember getting up and cleaning the mess I made. There was so much blood, but from where? I went over to the little sink and mirror that was in the basement and looked at myself. I had so much blood on my face. Was this all mine? Who else would it belong to?? My hair was wet, it looked like I just got out of the shower, I touched a strand of it, and looked at my hand and saw the dark blood. The taste of blood in my mouth was overwhelming. Never had I tasted that much of that metallic blood. I could tell I had a nose bleed but where else was I bleeding from. That much blood could not be from my nose. That’s when I noticed how hard it was to breathe thru my nose, I had so much crusted blood. I started to clean up my face, my lip was busted open. After I finished that I walked upstairs, she was sitting in the living room on the phone, I remember trying to run quickly upstairs. I got in the shower, and I remember watching the blood run down the drain. I put the shampoo in my hair, and remember the sting, that’s when I realized sometime during the struggle I got cuts and scraped on my head too, and that’s where I was bleeding from too. I spent some good time in that shower. Then I heard her coming upstairs. I turned the water off, and quickly tried to dry off. She knocked on the door, and told me after I got dressed to come sit down and talk to her. I said okay. I went downstairs after I got dressed, I could feel myself shaking still. She was sitting there with 2 bowls of ice cream and gave me one. She told me she was sorry, and that it would never happen again. She asked me not to tell my dad. I promised her I wouldn’t. She made a mistake, I could forgive her, and quite honestly, she terrified me. That was the first time it happened, I had no idea it wouldn’t be the last. I was 7 years old, how was I to know any different.