A Pierced Heart.

I am Sekani .

       October 22nd Fall of  2020,
   I spent the day helping my mother with her evangelist task around the city, passing out clothes to the homeless, praying for random people on the street and putting on a fake smile,  like she even remotely cares for any of these people. It was the same praise every time,  "Sister Shaton is so godly.." blah "Her daughter is so well behaved."

It's true, I was, I was the perfect daughter. The daughter everyone dreamed of having, straight A's, played sports and is "oh so respectful." Yes, a daughter everyone wishes they had, except my mother. As I came upon the last stair of the staircase, I pushed the door open and sighed of relief, finally being done with all the task at hand, "time to rest" I thought. Slumping down on my bed I closed my eyes, ready to drift to sleep.

My eyes open to the sound of my mothers footsteps, "Honey, do you feel like making dinner?" She asked so sweetly, I almost forgot who she really was. "Can I make dinner tomorrow instead? My head hurts.."and it did, but she didn't like that answer. "You never do jack shit, and you're tired? your head hurts?!" My mother yelled and leaned in, staring in my eyes before yanking away with a cynical smirk, as if she were proud to make me shake in fear. "Fine then, I'm going out for dinner. you can fucking starve for all I care." and with that the door slammed. I waited to hear no more steps going down the stairs and began to silently cry, "So godly." I mocked. "Bullshit!" my voice loud and broken.

I finished sobbing, my emotions now numb, as they always were after an altercation with my mother. 'I'm going to starve myself.' I thought. It was always a punishment I thought of for my mother after fights, but they only ended with me not being able to take it and eating. I sighed softly before heading towards the kitchen and finding some potato chips to munch on for dinner, chewing the almost stale snack, I stared out of the kitchen window.

October 25th 2020
Today is sunday, meaning I have to get dressed for church and put on the best smile I could conjure. It was especially interesting as today mom was giving a word, as was she but that was beside the point. Walking into the huge double doors, I was quickly embraced with the soulful sound of gospels, the choir had already begun serenading the people of the church with "Break every chain" , welcoming Christ into his home.

I joined the choir and rocked side to side whilst clapping my hands to the beat being created by us. Sometimes church made me feel safe, though I had my doubts about it. We finished quickly followed by claps from the congregation in praise. I watched my mother walk up to the podium, I stopped myself from visibly showing any dislike. She began to speak, "I'll be leading us with Exodus 20:12, honor thy mother and thy father: that thy days be long upon the land which thy Lord have giventh thee." I rolled my eyes, as the church clapped.

I looked forward, seeing a few people now looking near me, actually at me. I looked over confused, my mother was handing me the mic. I stood quickly, embarrassed and took it from her, this was bound to be interesting with the topic she's about to speak about. "Uh, hello." A harmonic hello followed my words and I smiled. " Today I'll be leading with Ephesians 6:4. Parents, do not provoke thy child toward anger but correct them accordingly." I could see the rage in my mothers eyes, the congregation, oblivious, clapped and whistled.

Church finally came to an end, I wasn't exactly thrilled to go home, especially since my word. Once I walked through the door, I was slammed with a grated voice, I hated it; word after word felt like knives shooting through my heart. A hard slap landed on my face, I knocked back. After more yelling a punch followed, as her fist came in contact with my skin something in my mind broke, a sense– a feeling came over me, I couldn't stop it. As she walked away into her room, I made my way into the kitchen.

Drawing back the drawer I grabbed the second largest cutting knife in there, hazily I walked back to my mothers room and opened her door. Standing in her doorway with the knife in hand, simply dangling as I swung my hand fidgetly. I began to speak, "I refuse to put up with this anymore," I tread slowly toward  my mother, who sat with an unamused look. "Put that down- '' I raised the knife and she stopped mid sentence. "I can't.." My voice became saddened. Tears welled in my eyes, as I raised the knife and aimed it toward my heart. My mother jumped up, but it was too late. The knife had already pierced where her words hurt the most, where all the beatings hurt the most.

"Thy shant provoke thyne child to anger." A statement that flies over everyone's heads often, anger is often mistaken as hatred, a feeling of getting back, when really; it's when you're tired. Tired of mistreatment, tired of feeling not good enough. And I was tired, I am Sekani, provoked to anger not by hatred but by the love of my mother.