Him, He was the One!

Copyright, Toji

I’m a cutter… I’ve never told anyone this nor my story.

I’m fourteen year’s old, I’ve been cutting since I was seven just two years after my mother and father passed away from smallpox. I had nowhere to go. I was five and I couldn’t live on my own, so I turned to the one person I hate most in life… My uncle. Recently his wife had died and he tended to be very sad for days… Then it began. He just couldn’t stop! Oh and how I hate him and wish so bad he would hurry up and die! But no, he’d just get drunker and drunker… He hit me, called me names like “worthless piece of crap, stupid kid.” He’d glare at me so intently that when I looked at him his eyes seemed to silently scream at me “I want to kill you!” When he came home he would reek of death and booze… And day after day he’d hit me, child abuse, as you would call it.

Then a week later I was in the kitchen and I had dropped a cup. He wasn’t home. So I tried to clean it up when he walked in. I could hear him swagger toward me, I could smell the strong scent of rum. It flooded the room with its aroma. He looked around at the cup and them to me, I was frightened, so much I thought I would cry but I didn’t. I was so frightened I could barely speak I was saying to him I was sorry, but the words wouldn’t really come out it was more of a squeak. His eyes, I will remember them for the rest of my life, they were like black pools of death staring me in the face. He swayed side-to-side screaming at me “Damn you boy! Damn you, what the hell are you doing?” I remember my whole body shaking. “I didn’t mean too, I’m sorry.” I told him that hoping he would leave me alone. But no. No, he’d never leave my alone ever! He kicked me and I landed in the glass bleeding. He picked me up by the collar of my shirt and slammed me on the wall, he held me inches off the ground, his fist touching my chin. He stared at my eyes and screamed drunken nonsense at me so loud my eardrums hurt. All I could think at this moment was I have to get away, he’s going to kill me, he’s going to kill me! I closed my eyes wishing in my mind I was dead. He clenched my neck, I was gasping for air as he tightened his grip on me for a while I scratched at the wall, my arms flailing. I tried to pull him off make him let go or something. I was going to die, I knew it, I could feel and hear the beating of my heart in my neck, my arms slackened by my side and I fell unconscious as all the air wheezed out of me. I don’t know what happened after or why I was not dead. And I hate him more for not killing me then. I feel like he left me so I could feel the pain of life and so he could torment me. It’s like a game for him he gets so much pleasure from seeing me hurt. It’s a on a daily basis now that he hurts me and I cut.


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