The Hidden Cuts

Chapter 1: Where it all started

"Tracy? TRACY!" my mom yelled, i immediately snapped out of whatever trance i was in as i look at my mother, she looks furious, she's holding a belt and a hanger.

"Ma?" i shakily called out as she approaches.

"Why did you leave the house today when i told you not to?!" Spank, spank, spank. I cried as the belt touched my skin, the stinging sensation crawling through my body it hurts.. i begged her to stop but she didn't.. She's mad, real mad.

I left the house today, she told me not to but i sneaked out.. It's been so long since i've last seen my friends. I was happy, happy playing with them but evening hits i immediately ran back home and that's where i saw my mom glaring menacing daggers at me.

"Please ma! I won't do it again!!" i begged, my nose covered in snot, my eyes red due to crying i'm growing tired of everything.
I scrambled away and towards the bed but she followed, hit after hit, she didn't stop. Red marks all over my thighs.

"Not until you give me a proper explanation of why you left the house!!" She snapped, the hanger she's also using snapping with  her, what am i going to tell her? nothing i say is reasonable i left yes, i've snuck out but i was a kid.. Instead of answering i keep on crying, helpless and scared of my own mother.

"WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING, HUH?!" She used the belt this time, the metal connecting to my skin sending shivers down my spine, my leg already hurting as i let out a pained cry, I didn't beg her to stop, i'm growing tired of begging for things that wouldn't come, i've lost hope..

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I grew up with an abusive mom, both psychically and verbally, sometimes my body is covered in marks, marked by the weapons she used against me.

I always put up with it, she's my mother, she's the one feeding me. The one who gave roof over my head. She's nice, i love her so much but when she's mad i just wish she would die. There's this one time that i caught her crying, crying over my dad.

I immediately comforted her, i was five, five and receiving abuse, five and already comforting my mother.

I hate how much i love her, that when she hits me it's alright. I hate that no matter how many hits and abuses i take, It's her that i always yearn and cry for. I'm pathetic, super pathetic i hate everything about her then the next minute i'm back to her, kissing her feet.

I hate how much pain she's caused me.