Abuse

The tears dropped onto my swollen hands. I had been holding back these tears all day and I finally could let then out where no one would see me. My feet were sore and the bruises were multiplying day by day. He had left an impact on my life. For though it seemed like just minutes before that he had hit me, it was really a week ago that he last abused me. Once you're abused there isn't one day when you don't feel the pain laid upon you.
The tears come more rapidly now and increasingly turn into a sob. I had done nothing to deserve this. My parents hadn't loved me but I didn't expect them to sell me away to a devil of man. From the first day I had set foot in his house he had set his eyes on me. I had done everything that he had asked and never once complained to him about my sleeping arrangements, in the vegetable cellar. Hadn't brought up the fact that he cooked like someone who hadn't ever seen a kitchen. I was a sport; someone who could stand up to mean girls at my old school, or say it was nothing when I got hit with a soccer ball. But the one thing I could not stand up to was verbal and physical abuse. So tears. Some say this is a sign of weakness but I say it is a sign of showing your emotions. -- blog