My Trauma Mate

The steps were his. I was able to identify whose steps were whose since I was 4. Please no. Please. Please. Please. Not again. My back still hurts from last night and the night before that. "Where are you, you pest? I've had enough s**t today, I'm not playing your little games tonight! Your mother told me that you wouldn't stay in your room today. I'm about to teach you what happens when you don't listen." His footsteps stopped at my bed where I was hiding under, trying to save myself from the pain he was about to inflict again. There was silence. I felt his hand around my tiny ankle and yanked me out from under the bed. “No daddy please! I’ll be good, I promise! Please don’t, Daddy, I’ll be good!” I cried, fighting to get away. The man holds his leather belt, ready to strike.  “You just don’t get it, do you? You don’t ever want to listen! You’re useless, weak. You see, girl, you were a mistake. You shouldn’t have ever been born! You’ve always been a thorn in my side. Maybe this will teach you to keep your mouth shut and out of everyone's way.” He said as he was taking aim, not stopping to show any inch of emotion as the belt met skin over and over again.