Living With Boys

"Family"

"Would you shut the fuck up you useless thing! You think your a daughter, ha your just a problem! Always have been one always will be one!"

Pain erupted as my so called father kicked with all his might into ribs. My mom stood by drunk and scared watching me get the life beat out of me again.

This was an average night in my house. So average that I didn't know that this didn't happen in every little girls household until I was ten. That's when I was allowed to go to real school, that was when my so called mother started coating me in layers upon layers of makeup so no one could see the bruises covering my face.

I knew that no matter what I said or did this was the nightly ritual and nothing could stop it. Not even being taken out of the house because some nosy teacher asked about the hand shaped bruises that still held unto my arms days later. I had rolled up my sleeves to wash my hands after finger painting in the fifth grade and she saw the marks, still deep purple. That was my first time in foster care but the state tossed me back into my parents loving arms the second they could, it was cheaper for them that way.

"You think your worthy of anything but my boot to the skull?" He screamed at me. "Huh you gonna answer!?"

"No I don't I'm useless" I got out through the blood and pain.

"That's right!" He yelled moving his steel toed boots high on my body to my face. One kick to the eye and I blacked out.