Feb. 12th, 2015

akienm: (Default)
I remember the last time you hit me. I was 14. I have no idea what the infraction was. But whatever it was, it was something you and mom had some kind of agreement that it was a reasonable thing to do. I remember you took me out to the garage. I remember you took out your belt. I remember you bent me over. I remember you hit my ass. I remember you hit me again and again. I remember it became a test of wills. You were determined to hit me until I cried out. You hit my ass so hard that my nose started to bleed and drip down to the floor. Drop, drop, drop… With each stroke. Eventually I made the decision to cry out just to stop it. Because it was clearly important for you, a grown man, to be able to make a 14 year old cry out.

I do not remember what my transgression was. I don't have any idea what lesson I was supposed to learn. In that regard, your lesson failed. What I learned was to hate you.

While this memory still has bitterness associated with it, and may perhaps have forever, the next couple of entries will have a perspective from later times in my life.

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Akien MacIain

January 2017

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