Time moves in waves,
At first gradual, but then rapidly overcoming.
It’s almost if time didn’t move,
It was watching.
his actions.
Hours went by, it feels like days.
Days of relentless torture,
Wooden bat to skin, belt to back
Worse,
Words to mind.
Words gnawing at my brain,
Clenching every bit of it.
He occasionally left, but his words lingered.
Neither did the consequences of his actions.
He cut them.
They were taunting me, following me to every room, every corner.
I tried to hide.
“ Stay away from the windows,” he said.
But I couldn’t,
Marvelous white chrysanthemums stood outside the front door.
Now there are no more.
He cut them.
Because of me.
No more pretty flowers because of me.
A day without seeing those delicate floral wonders pains me more than any belt.