Being picked up like a kitten - a baby kitten mewling - dragged by hair across the carpet that feels funny on bare legs – almost slick but still rough. Think about things like that, kittens and carpets and hair sticking out between fingers. Think about anything else but where you are and how much it hurts.
I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!
No, don’t!
You’ll even listen to the rage and anger, that voice screaming at you in a strong commanding way that makes you feel smaller and blanker on in the inside. Which is good. Anything that sorts out and shrinks what’s been crazy and growing inside you lately is good.
He asked a question. You don’t even know what it was, and you try to shake your head. Your voice feels scared away, everything’s numb and your head feels like it’s turning into a salty mush.
He shakes your head, the hair threatening to rip out and finally you cry out, “No!”
“No? No what? ‘No, let me down’? Is that all you can say nowadays? Or are you saying ‘No, stop hurting me’? Don’t you know it hurts me when you won’t do what I say?”
You don’t even remember what he told you to do. Your brain won’t process anything anymore except the here and now – simply because it’s too terrifying to think there’s anything else.
Your mouth opens and cries out the first thing that comes to it. “I’m sorry! I can’t! I’m sorry!”
“You can’t?” You immediately know that was the wrong thing to say, but you can’t remember why.
You need more air – snot and tears are running down your face and it makes it hard to breathe. But when you try to inhale, his hand clamps over your mouth and nose. Your brain shorts again, and all you can feel is him. His legs against your back as he pins you there, his hands across your face and in your hair, and his body under your fists which flail as you convulse and try to break free for air.
I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!
Don’t! Don’t you dare do anything! I’ll hate you if you do!
Hate me?! How can you hate me? He’s fucking killing you!
Where did you learn that word, you wonder even as your chest spasms for air. He’s looking right down at you, watching you struggle. But everything blurry from the tears, and it’s going blurrier. There’s just pain and all you want is air.
Suddenly your mouth is released and you gasp, tasting the snot and tears that smeared on your lips in a slick gross mess. You don’t care even when blood trickles from your nose to add to the disgusting taste.
He lets you go and you just fall to the floor, still breathing hard and crying. That's all you can do for a minute, breath and cry. Thoughts stop dead, and for a moment it's pleasant to just bask in the aftermath of pain.
Breathe.
He leaves, and comes back into the room with a wet washcloth and sits down on the bed. “Come here,” he orders, and pats the spot between his legs.
Don’t!
Your thoughts fade away as you crawl there and sit in front of him, trembling. He takes the washcloth and wipes off your face before holding it over your nose like it were a tissue. “Blow.”
You obey, and the feeling of someone wiping your nose is comforting. Cleaning you up while cleaning you out - making nothing inside. He pulls you into his lap then and just holds you, stroking your head where he had pulled your hair. It hurts and feels good at the same time. That’s just sort of how life was.
And still is, sometimes.
I sit and pet the cat that comes by for scraps. It’s not really ours, but I like to pretend. I like to pretend that the cat belongs to me and that it needs me, and that’s why I can pet it. It doesn’t really, it just comes by for the food I leave out like a true scavenger would. I don’t know why it lets me pet it, but it does. It’s stupid to think a wild animal will ever be happy caged…kind of like how a caged animal could be happy or survive let loose in the wild.
I shut my eyes as I listen to the uneven purring and chewing.
Are you still there?