Self-Deceiving
She felt it again, the black gaping hollow in the pit of her stomach, making her face scrunch up, making her eyes water. Her hand hung low, still holding on to the tattered sketchbook, dog-eared and stained.
"Stupid fuck," Father screamed, his face contorted in rage, "..who the hell do you think y'are!?"
He yanked her roughly towards him and shook her. Stars exploded behind her eyelids when he slapped her. She noticed his ears turned red when he yelled.
His face darkened, and she felt the violent fury in him winding up. She braced herself for another blow, wishing she's in another place; in her room, drawing, or perhaps hanging out with the guys at the old warehouse.
Anywhere but...here... Father hates me, Father hits me, Nobody's father is like he.
Fat drops of tears started to fall like rain on her face, and her breathing became ragged and choppy. A low moan escaped her throat as her sorrows pushed to come out.
"Cry..that's all you do. Fuck you, Sandra. Crying solves NOTHING!" He slammed his fists against the side of her head, making her see a burst of colors. Her sketchbook flew out from her fingers, hitting the floor with a loud pah!
Oh god...anywhere but...here...
She fell onto the sharp edge of the table. A sharp flash of pain shot through the haze in her brain.He's making her bleed again, and she collasped limply onto the expensive Persian carpet, her lifeblood on the gold threads. She wanted to sleep, and not see him again; this man, with his mad unblinking eyes, and with his anger, so horrific. She wanted to reach for the castle in the sky, and run beyond the massive gates, to the path paved with warm reddish bricks
Red bloody red oh my god i hurt i bleed
where the landscape is hued in silver green and blues, and where the hills are gentle rolling things. And there'll be flowers...flowers...flowers everywhere...
Slut Whore Tramp You take after your mother Come out here Come out here And let me punish yer
Yes, a dreamy stretch of field, swaying with white flowers. Small and white, clean and bright.
Dying hyacinths in the kitchen Fer fuck's sake Sandra they're rottin THrow em away
And in the midst of the flowers, a Man stands, his back to her. He'll be waiting, but oblivious he's waiting, yet knowing he's expecting something. And when he sees her he'll smile, not entirely sure why he smiled. Maybe it's the overflowing swelling in his heart, or the tightness in his throat.... and He'll take her into His arms, loving. protecting. ...there'll be no need for crying again....
