Posted on 7:19 AM | By Biki Honko | In
Ahh!! What time is it, Book? Gotta get the dinner started and oh shit! The laundry! Fuck oh fuck! There is ironing to do. Slowest first, slowest first, what is the least dangerous thing to be caught doing Book? Start the laundry, wash the clothes, why can't I wash me clean of this constant fear? Washer loaded, one chore down Book. Dinner,dinner,dinner,dinner.
Shiny, sparkling sharp death, how much do you think it would hurt Book? This knife is sharp, so very sharp, is it sharp enough to cut me out of this life? Blade against neck, ooh, so cool to the touch, soothing almost. Rubbing the back of the blade over my vein, back and forth, motion easy, rocking my body to the blade's rhythm over my vein. No, no, no, no, no, NO! Why can't I kill my self? Fuck, why do I hang on to this pitiful excuse of a life? Shit, what do I have to live for?
Dinner in the oven. Kitchen cleaned, and cleaned and cleaned. Bathrooms next. Book? Is that why don't kill me? They have a slave that is afraid to run, afraid to deny them anything. Deny? That would entail asking me, and all questions aimed my way are always rhetorical. Yes please, I would like for you to hit me hard again with that drawer. Thank you very much. Sorry, I just don't know why I want you beat me, I will try not to let it happen again. No, you do not deserve a worthless piece of shit like me for a daughter. Of course your life would be better without me, kill me please and end your agony. Yes, I was wanting to be pushed down and hit with a pan. Such nice parents, only thinking of my needs, I have no idea why I would be afraid of you.
Time! Book! Do I have time to do the ironing? Please, oh please let there be time to finish before they get home. Running down the hall, fast, fast, fast. Getting ironing board up. I can do this, breathe, breathe, pick up the iron. BOOK! Hold my hand, make me brave. Iron......plugged in.....getting hot.....starting to tremble.... Book? Could you help me? I hate the iron. Fear the iron, despise the iron, hate, oh pure hatred towards that innocent piece of metal. Finally....hot...pull white shirt from basket...spray with starch....pick iron up....ahhhhh!.....ironing now.... I...I...can do this. I think. I hope.
"What the fuck! Why aren't you done with the chores, you worthless piece of shit? Give me that damned iron! Did I just see you flinch? Why in the hell are you afraid of me? What have I ever done to you to make you afraid of me? Do you want me to beat you?"
The iron slammed against Soah's head, once, twice, dizzy now, head full of bees. Where is my shirt going? "AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! It hurts, please, please stop! Stop burning me! Sorry! I didn't mean to tell you what to do! Please.....please.....please....."
Hands grabbed into my hair, shaking me like a rat, hard, lifting me, punching me, kicking me. Being drug down the hallway to my bedroom, not able to get my feet under me, thrown against walls, into my closed door, again, again, again.
"What I ever did to deserve a worthless piece of shit like you for a daughter? Stay in your damned room. Don't you know how much better my life would be without you? I had better not hear you again tonight. If you think you are hurt now, just make me come back." They will be back, they always come back, it is like a drug to them. Again, and again and again. Once they start back up, it goes on for days and days, maybe they will do me a favor and kill my gutless self this time.
Lying on the floor, hurt, hurt, hurt.....tears seeping out...leaking out...cascading down my face, pooling in my ear.....why do I want to live, why?
"Book....oh....Book....I hurt so...."
"I'm sorry!! I'm sorry! Please stop!!! Pleeeasssee!" Feet, fists, belts, words used against me. Again, again, again, again.
"..........................."
"uhhh......ohhhh............." Eyes ran dry of tears, throat dry of saliva, hot, oh so hot. Pain every where, joints even? Skin to tight, to small to fit, feels like it wants to burst. Brain muddled. "How long has it been?"
"water.....oh....water...."
"Pain...oh God.... breathing hurts....water....I need to drink....can I get my eyes open....one will....daylight?" Trying again and again to stand. Agony rippling along my back. Fuck it, I'll crawl for now. Quiet in house, empty? I can't reach the sink....just get water from tub. Heavenly liquid, drinking, drinking, drinking.
"When did I fall asleep? Are they still gone? I feel better, that water really helped, need more. Ohh, so cool, delicious." Legs weak and trembly, but holding me up this time. "Noon? What day? Fuck! Four days? Fuck!" Suddenly legs to weak to work. Crumpling to floor. Panic thudding, throbbing, stomping me to dust. "i was...right....they don't care....if...........i......live...........i need help if....if...i want to .......live...truth time is here....what do i really want? .........i want to live.....i really do..... Help, who would help? Do I know anyone? Skater boys? I just met them. It is them or a stranger. What if they are not at the park? Then a stranger.....I can't, I won't, come back here again. Get bag, with Book. Need to change clothes. AAAAAHHHHH!!!!" White hot agony ripping me apart. Clothes will have to stay. Shoes, can't tie, sandals easier, just slip on. Hold bag in hand, no way to wear it. Out the door, careful steps down stairs. Walking to corner, leaning on post, can't sit down. Bus, is here! Anguish... getting up steps, dropping money in. Bracing against seat edge. Every stop, corner, pure torture. Finally at the skate park. "Please, oh please God let them be there, please!" Each and every step, painful torture. "They are here! Can I do this? I have no choice.
Shiny, sparkling sharp death, how much do you think it would hurt Book? This knife is sharp, so very sharp, is it sharp enough to cut me out of this life? Blade against neck, ooh, so cool to the touch, soothing almost. Rubbing the back of the blade over my vein, back and forth, motion easy, rocking my body to the blade's rhythm over my vein. No, no, no, no, no, NO! Why can't I kill my self? Fuck, why do I hang on to this pitiful excuse of a life? Shit, what do I have to live for?
Dinner in the oven. Kitchen cleaned, and cleaned and cleaned. Bathrooms next. Book? Is that why don't kill me? They have a slave that is afraid to run, afraid to deny them anything. Deny? That would entail asking me, and all questions aimed my way are always rhetorical. Yes please, I would like for you to hit me hard again with that drawer. Thank you very much. Sorry, I just don't know why I want you beat me, I will try not to let it happen again. No, you do not deserve a worthless piece of shit like me for a daughter. Of course your life would be better without me, kill me please and end your agony. Yes, I was wanting to be pushed down and hit with a pan. Such nice parents, only thinking of my needs, I have no idea why I would be afraid of you.
Time! Book! Do I have time to do the ironing? Please, oh please let there be time to finish before they get home. Running down the hall, fast, fast, fast. Getting ironing board up. I can do this, breathe, breathe, pick up the iron. BOOK! Hold my hand, make me brave. Iron......plugged in.....getting hot.....starting to tremble.... Book? Could you help me? I hate the iron. Fear the iron, despise the iron, hate, oh pure hatred towards that innocent piece of metal. Finally....hot...pull white shirt from basket...spray with starch....pick iron up....ahhhhh!.....ironing now.... I...I...can do this. I think. I hope.
"What the fuck! Why aren't you done with the chores, you worthless piece of shit? Give me that damned iron! Did I just see you flinch? Why in the hell are you afraid of me? What have I ever done to you to make you afraid of me? Do you want me to beat you?"
The iron slammed against Soah's head, once, twice, dizzy now, head full of bees. Where is my shirt going? "AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! It hurts, please, please stop! Stop burning me! Sorry! I didn't mean to tell you what to do! Please.....please.....please....."
Hands grabbed into my hair, shaking me like a rat, hard, lifting me, punching me, kicking me. Being drug down the hallway to my bedroom, not able to get my feet under me, thrown against walls, into my closed door, again, again, again.
"What I ever did to deserve a worthless piece of shit like you for a daughter? Stay in your damned room. Don't you know how much better my life would be without you? I had better not hear you again tonight. If you think you are hurt now, just make me come back." They will be back, they always come back, it is like a drug to them. Again, and again and again. Once they start back up, it goes on for days and days, maybe they will do me a favor and kill my gutless self this time.
Lying on the floor, hurt, hurt, hurt.....tears seeping out...leaking out...cascading down my face, pooling in my ear.....why do I want to live, why?
"Book....oh....Book....I hurt so...."
"I'm sorry!! I'm sorry! Please stop!!! Pleeeasssee!" Feet, fists, belts, words used against me. Again, again, again, again.
"..........................."
"uhhh......ohhhh............." Eyes ran dry of tears, throat dry of saliva, hot, oh so hot. Pain every where, joints even? Skin to tight, to small to fit, feels like it wants to burst. Brain muddled. "How long has it been?"
"water.....oh....water...."
"Pain...oh God.... breathing hurts....water....I need to drink....can I get my eyes open....one will....daylight?" Trying again and again to stand. Agony rippling along my back. Fuck it, I'll crawl for now. Quiet in house, empty? I can't reach the sink....just get water from tub. Heavenly liquid, drinking, drinking, drinking.
"When did I fall asleep? Are they still gone? I feel better, that water really helped, need more. Ohh, so cool, delicious." Legs weak and trembly, but holding me up this time. "Noon? What day? Fuck! Four days? Fuck!" Suddenly legs to weak to work. Crumpling to floor. Panic thudding, throbbing, stomping me to dust. "i was...right....they don't care....if...........i......live...........i need help if....if...i want to .......live...truth time is here....what do i really want? .........i want to live.....i really do..... Help, who would help? Do I know anyone? Skater boys? I just met them. It is them or a stranger. What if they are not at the park? Then a stranger.....I can't, I won't, come back here again. Get bag, with Book. Need to change clothes. AAAAAHHHHH!!!!" White hot agony ripping me apart. Clothes will have to stay. Shoes, can't tie, sandals easier, just slip on. Hold bag in hand, no way to wear it. Out the door, careful steps down stairs. Walking to corner, leaning on post, can't sit down. Bus, is here! Anguish... getting up steps, dropping money in. Bracing against seat edge. Every stop, corner, pure torture. Finally at the skate park. "Please, oh please God let them be there, please!" Each and every step, painful torture. "They are here! Can I do this? I have no choice.
Comments (0)
Post a Comment