Imperfectly Right for Me

Nineteen: Battles

Lily

People say 'pick your battles', but I don't believe we have that choice. I believe our battles are given to us and how we decide to act on it is what makes us who we are. Today, no matter the consequences, I decided I'd had enough.

Cleaning up the last bits of glass mama left in the kitchen, I stand up frustratingly. As she sits in the living room, laughing at the television, something snaps in me. I glance at the new bruise she has just given me on my arm, and sadness inside me.

I drop the dustpan, my hands shaking and tears trying to escape. It was as if something broke inside of me. My wall finally broke. And before I knew it, I was striding in the living room and standing in front of her.

My heart beating so loud, I feared she would hear it. I turn the television off. She tries to throw the bottle of alcohol in her hand at me but misses, thankfully. "What the hell are you doing?" She shouts.

"Mama, I'm not a kid anymore. I won't let you treat me like this any longer. I've got a wonderful boyfriend now who treats me the way I'm supposed to be treated. The way Diddy treated you. With love and patience, despite how awfully you treated him."

"What did you just say to me, little girl? Have you lost your doggone mind?" She yells, standing up and pulling her belt off.

Gripping the ends of my shirt, tears pouring down my cheeks and shaking with fear, I sniffle before replying. "Mama, I love you with all my heart, but I just can't do it anymore."

I wipe my eyes harshly and stomp my foot a little, rage like lava I've never felt in my entire life before. "I refuse to be abused any longer, gosh darn it!"

In almost an instant, the belt connects against my arms and stomach after I say this. I fall to the ground, my tears pouring out harder. "You've got no right to talk to me like that, little girl!"

Holding my hands out as she towers over me, preparing for her next hit, I cry out in pain. "I'm not a little girl anymore, mama!" She strikes me again on the back and despite the pain, I keep trying. I point to one of my scars, "You did this to me! You did this to your daughter, mama! The person you gave birth to! Held for nine months, breastfed, you did this!"

She continues to hit me, not listening to a word I'm saying. I manage to stand up and make it to the kitchen. Holding onto the counter for balance, I don't notice the plate and accidentally drop it. It falls to the ground next to me and some pieces get into the skin on my leg.

She hits me again, "Do you know how much those plates cost me, dammit!"

"I bought those plates!" I shake my head and spread my arms wide. "I bought everything in here! I do everything for you and all I ask in return is that you love me like you used to, Mama!"

She looks at me for a moment and for a second I see her true self again. The sweet woman I know. I catch a hint of sadness, possibly even regret, in her eyes. But it vanishes quickly, and she rolls her eyes at me. "Well I'm not."

My mouth goes agape and I feel my heart shatter. I know I'm not supposed to let words faze me. That, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me', but that was a lie. Because those three words hurt me far more than the beatings.

I get up quickly and as she shouts for me, I run. I run all the way out of the house and I just keep on running. By the time I've run a block, I stop. My hands on my knees, breathing roughly, I try to calm down. Based on my shaking hands and disfigured vision, I know before the day is over I'm going to have a breakdown.

I hear someone honk in front of me and look up. Looking closer, I see it is Muffin's car. I had forgotten he was picking me up tonight. I stand up quickly as he rushes out of the car.