Chapter 17

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Keep going love, all this pain will be worth it in the end.
Sang's POV:
I am walking down the street with Lily in my arms, and Cameron holding my hand. For the first time in a long time I am terrified of what my mother might do to me. Once the house comes into view I can see that her car is there. This makes everything worse. Every year on this day I get the worst beating of my life. It is torture.

We make it to the end of the street and I give Lily to Cameron, then push him behind me because I have no clue what will be on the other side of the door. When I open the door the house is quiet, but a complete mess. Dishes are smashed everywhere. The first thing I want to do is get the kids safe. I walk slowly up the stairs with both kids in my arms so they don't step on any glass. I check all of the rooms, and they are completely empty. I set the kids down in Camerons room and run downstairs to grab them food. I grab fruit, crackers, and water. I leave their room and lock them in from the outside so my mother has no chance of getting to them.

I go to the kitchen and begin cleaning up all of the glass. I cut myself a few times but it isn't anything too bad. Thirty minutes later the door opens and the stench of alcohol fills the room. I turn around and come face to face with my mother. Her eyes have a murderous glint in them and I know today won't be easy. It is the ten year anniversary after all.

"You bitch! I work hard every single day. I have sacrificed so much for your ungrateful ass. Do you think I enjoy having you around?" She screams at me and like the coward I am I cower away from her. She stalks towards me and grips my hair in her grasp so tight that I know I will have a migraine later.

She yanks my face to where it is even with hers and I become dizzy from how fast I am being yanked around."Your worthless Sang. Nobody will ever want you or love you. Nobody will ever willingly be with you." I move back more and glass digs into my back. I let out a whimper and that sadistic smile of hers comes back full force. She yanks on my hair one last time and a few strands come out of my head. She lets my head go and slams it on the floor. The rest is kind of a blur up until she gets a belt out. I know shes kicked me and there is a searing pain in my stomach but other than that I am not too sure.

I focus back onto her with a belt in her hand standing over me. She raises my shirt and does something I would have never expected. She begins to hit me with the belt on my stomach and the pain is nothing like I have ever felt. I zone out and only come back to the world when I hear her yelling. "I have had to raise you for 18 years! Your whore of a mother died giving birth and your father promised to take care of you, but then you cause him to leave.'' I give her what I know is a confused look because she is calling herself a whore. Mother rolls her eyes and then continues speaking. "You thought I was your mother? How much of an idiot are you? Your real mother died giving birth and as the wife of your father I got wrangled into caring for you! Of course you would be fucking stupid. I am leaving for a week and by the time I get back I want this house spotless. I am tired of you being so ungrateful." With hat she walks out of the house, slamming the door.

I lay on the floor as my thoughts go wild. She isn't my mother. I am not related to her. She has no possession over me.

After laying on the ground for ten minutes I slowly pull myself up and can feel the effects from everything that just happened. I slowly crawl to the bathroom and begin the painful process of cleaning my wounds, and stitching the ones that need it. There are whip marks on my stomach and back. I have bruises all over my ribs that I know will only continue darkening, and my breathing isn't normal. I pass out twice but I make it through. She still avoided my face but I know I'll have scars on my stomach now and that thought kills me.

I sit on the floor for an hour and then begin to clean all of the glass and broken bottles from the kitchen, but not before taking pictures of the mess. Having pictures to show myself that this really happened might just help me keep my sanity.

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