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16

It would not really be that difficult to hide, I was a pro at that point. It's more often than not that his hands left bruises on my body. Though not the ones you'd think- I should be grateful, he has never not once hit me. So it's not that bad I guess it could definitely be worse. People have it worse and little finger-sized bruises scattered across my arms aren't anything to whine about anyway.

With that said I do hate how small he makes me feel. In his presence I always feel like the most pathetic person to exist, too weak to speak up and to useless to be successful. He always manages to back me into a corner, even if he isn't touching me he always crowds me, makes me feel small, pathetic. Though I'd never admit it to anyone, my dad scares me more than anything else in the world.

His words have a way of creeping into my mind, leaving me restless and sleep deprived. The insults always echo inside my mind, making small cuts into my confidence until it completely breaks down.

As I stood there, cowering into myself while looking into his chest, not daring to meet his eyes yet, I tried to brace myself similar to the way I would before a crash. Steady my breathing, straighten my back, keep the sobs from escaping my chapped lips and above everything else I tried to force myself to look up at his eyes and keep looking at him. Avoiding his enraged glare would only make things worse and I could tell I did not want his rage to get worse.

My body already felt weak since it was severely malnourished since I had not been eating even remotely enough for the past two week, and in addition to that my mind now felt frozen. Almost like the fear was a mind numbing paralyzing poison.

My eyes started to un subconsciously dart around the room- trying to find a possible escape route, My body and mind were clashing against each other in a struggle for control. My body desperately wanted to try to escape- protect us from what is to come but my mind knew there was no point. There was nothing that could shield me all I could do was succumb to the pounding in my ears and stand there, listening to him hurling insults at me.

I hate this. I hate how he makes me feel like the same scared and frustrated kid I was five years ago, everything I've worked for with myself feels seemingly like it's falling through my fingers. Like he breaks down any progress I've made in mere seconds. I still feel like the twelve year old girl, frustratedly crying in her helmet during the last lap since she knew the verbal violence she would suffer as soon as he exited her kart.

"I asked you a question, what the fuck was that" Knowing it wasn't a question he wanted me to answer I stayed quiet, still bracing for impact. "How did you turn out like this? Fucking embarrassing worthless little failure"

As his voice started to rise my heartbeat followed suit. The tears that were welling up in my eyes were getting harder to contain and my hands had started to shake. "You not only lost and embarrassed yourself in front of the entire world, you humiliated me" I swallowed deeply and allowed my eyes to close for a brief second, though quickly reopening them as his finger jabbed onto my chest. "Do you under stand that? That you have embarrassed yourself and probably ruined your entire career, when I told you last week to change the result this was not what I fucking meant, how absolutely dumb are you?" He took his hand and pushed my forehead, not hard enough to where it could be a punch but hard enough to make my head bounce back against the wall in a way that made me want to double check that it wasn't bleeding.

"Look at me when I speak to you. You are the biggest regret and greatest disappointment of my life. After all I've done for you, all the money I have poured into your career and this is how you repay me? By failing at any given opportunity, I hate you. Jag kan knappt ens se på dig, du är en skymf för vår familj och en skamfläck för hela racing-världen. Du är verkligen helt värdelös. You are unlovable worthless and not my daughter. You have humiliated yourself for the entire world to see, don't you dare call me or your mother until you've fixed this, jag avskyr dig" His words cut me in a way that is hard do explain. They re opened old wounds as well as creating new ones. Wounds laced with new fresh pain that would surely take months to heal, if they ever would.