Don't worry about me. I'll be okay. I wrote this as a form of release. I write instead of crying. Where my dimples wereIs it bad?
The way he pinched where my dimples were? I don’t know. Maybe. It didn’t feel good. It hurt. He took his thumb and forefinger and pinched my cheeks in the space where my teeth would’ve met. He tilted my head up and kept it there as he yelled at me. So I’d have to look at him. With my neck in that position I was defenceless. I could only squirm and smell his sour breath and feel his spit on my eyelids. When he was angry his breath smelled like home. Isn’t that sad? That anger Smells like home? It was always worse than the spankings which were over quickly. When he got like this I’d be in that position for what felt like hours but probably was only minutes. But minutes are longer than minutes when you can taste blood or think you can. I always thought I could taste blood. Who knows if it was real? Probably not. Sometimes, if he caught me with my mouth open, I’d bite my cheeks as he forced them together. Not too hard. Not hard enough to make a mark. It was just a discipline thing. It was just a control thing. It was just a fear thing. I laugh when I tell my friends about how he’d pinch where my dimples were. If I laugh, they won’t know I’m crying inside, wishing for someone to understand. To know how I’m not sure if I need help, or if I needed help, and missed my chance. No one knows though. Knowing is dangerous. Scary. And if I avoid the scary things I am in control. It’s just a control thing. It’s just a fear thing. The only thing anyone knows is how he’d pinch where my dimples were until I grew out of my dimples and then grew out of his fingers. He still knows how to scare me and he still does. But not with his fingers anymore. With his words which are just as bad. Or would be just as bad if I wasn’t as smart. The words aren’t as bad as the yelling. Words are rational so I can dissect them and realise they’re untrue. The yelling’s irrational. I can’t prove it wrong. It just is, and always will be. Is it bad? The way he pinched where my dimples were? It’s just a fear thing.
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April 2020
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