"you say it's because of my age, girl, but age ain't nothing but a number"
*
a story of which a mother of two finds herself entangled with her son's best friend, jungkook.
"I see. Has he ever hurt you?" Mr smith asked and I paused instantly. I knew this was a safe space to air out all Robert had done to me but for some reason I was still hesitant. I guess I was still coming to terms that someone I once loved the most in this world could do this to me.
"Yeah. He does." I nodded my head.
"Could you recount any things he has done to you that you would be able to provide evidence for in court?" He asked. "Take your time." He added sympathetically, noticing the look on my face.
So reluctantly, one by one, I began to point out the place where Robert had punched, burnt, slapped and even bit. And as I kept on going, Mr Smith couldn't mask the look on his face. He looked visibly shocked.
"Okay. Do you have any medical proof of any abuse? Like any time you've been to the doctor and maybe they've flagged an injury or something?" Mr smith enquired.
I knew better than going to the doctor.
If I ever went to the doctor for all the bruises and the minor injuries, they would definitely get suspicious and Robert would have killed me. I learnt my lesson about never ever going to a doctor about nineteen years ago.
.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.
19 years ago 2001
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"It's okay, it's okay."
Though my words were intended to be comforting, my facial expression was juxtaposing.
As I tried to calm down baby Trey who was wailing, no matter how much I fed him, or how much I coddled him, he just wouldn't go to sleep; His tiny frame restless because he was teething and clearly in pain.
I had a chemistry essay due tomorrow. Not to mention my body was aching from stacking shelves earlier this afternoon. And the fact that I was three months pregnant with intense fatigue and back pain. As well as the looming household chores I had.
It's like I couldn't catch a break.
Tears were streaming down my face as I used my free hand to wipe them as my other arm was occupied with carrying my son.
"Trey, it's okay." I tried to stabilize my voice and hide the fact that I was crying too but my sobs couldn't help but escape through my mouth. "Mommy's really tired too... so please just stop crying, please..."
I could no longer even pretend to be calm to comfort my son, I began to bawl hysterically, my face distorting and my voice fading away because of how hard I was sobbing.
