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I had hoped for so long it wouldn't end like this.
I'd tried hiding it, denying who I was, and making myself fit in, but in the end his words proved right.
'Freak! Pervert! No little cock sucker is a son of mine.'
The words had hurt worse than the beating, but the real pain had come from seeing the look of cold- nothing, in my mom's eyes as he did it.
I looked down at my blood stained dress, and laughed- at least my mutilation meant I'd die a girl.
I stepped off the edge, smiling as I fell.
Comments
the darkest hour
A powerful, well composed piece that stands in stark contrast to the silly fluff that drabbles tend to be.
Grim but not gratuitous, with cause and effect are clearly defined, both of her parents being absolute monsters (usually in these transyouth horror stories it's one or the other, so this one's TRULY awful...).
And I think the brevity helped this story, a sharp pang of dread and remorse instead of an exhausting
ordeal that leaves me drained, like most t.g. suicide tales. I notice this was posted at 11:58 p.m.
on the 20th, just under the wire for the Day of Rememberance...
~~hugs, Laika
What borders on stupidity?
Canada and Mexico.
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Nightmares
I've developed a bad habit of sleeping fitfully- if at all- at night when I'm alone, and this is in essense a retelling of a kind of pseudo-nightmare I was having.
The rough landing at the end tends to jar me awake, and make me happy I both have a mostly supportive family and work most nights.
Melanie E.
Wow
.....THAT IS AMAZING!!!!!