I Don't Love You

I took a deep breath ready to tell this horrible story.

“When I was 5 my dad started to hit me. He had just lost his job and he couldn’t find any where to work. He started to drink after awhile. When he was drunk and I was in the way he would hit me. They were simple hits juts like a punch to the jaw. He would always apologize the next morning, and tell me he would stop. He never did.

Later that year my mom got stabbed as she was walking home from work. We lived in a really bad part of town. Some people might have even called it the ghettos. But after that happened my dad started to beat me even more. Sober or drunk. It hardly mattered. He would lock me in the basement if I ever cried for my mom when I had a nightmare. He told me he couldn’t look at me without disgust because I looked so much like her it disgusted him. And then when I was 10 he beat me so bad that I almost died.”

I lifted up my shirt to show a scar above my stomach. “He cut with a broken beer bottle. Some pieces of the glass went into my stomach, it hurt like hell.” I felt Frank’s hand tracing the scar. I shivered. His hand was freezing against my hot stomach. I put my shirt down continuing with the story. “My dad no choose but to take me to the hospital. He was an idiot. The hospital found out. They asked me where I got all the scars. I was still out of it so I did the only thing I could think of, I told them. The police came and arrested him. They didn’t need any more evidence. My body was the proof. He went before a judge and was found guilty. They gave him 10 years. He has half his sentence left.” I told Frank. I just told him the one of the many parts of the story. There was more to it.

“Do you want to hear the rest?” I asked him quietly. All of this talking about the past was bringing up bad memories.

“If it’s bad for you then we can stop. You don’t have to go through this because I want to know.” Frank told me.

I considered it. Did I want to stop? I didn’t know. But I already started it, might as well finish it.

“When the state found out they decided I needed to stay with someone and the only living relative I had left was my dad’s brother. When I got discharged a couple days later he came and picked me up. He didn’t even talk to me on the ride there.

I was scared I was 10 with stitches in my stomach going to this guys house who I have never meet because my mom always told me my dad’s side of the family was violent. All of them had been in jail at least once so I was kinda weary of him.

When we got to his house, the first thing he did was turn to me and told me in a very deep voice, ‘I don’t like you, I will not treat you nicely. You got my brother arrested you little son of bitch ,’ he then slapped me across the face. He split my lip. Right there my heart sank; I knew I would not find a home with him.”

I had tears flowing down my face, the next part I did not want to say. I felt arms wrap around me. I just cried into Frank’s shoulder.

“Gee, I’ve told you before, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

But I just shook my head; I was going to finish what I had started.

Notes

Oh poor Gee :( so you guys know what part of what Gee went through cx