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Jan 2020 · 77
The decorator
Your mum used to wrap you up in blankets to protect you from the cold actions taking place downstairs.
Sharp shivers would flood you when you heard your mums hysterical scream.
You would run as fast as you can to save her but it was you who needed to be saved.
When would they come to help you?
When was your mum going to take you away from the toxic?
You needed the reassurance you would live to your next birthday.
The reassurance that you would wake up to your mum the next day.
You would continue praying that you could have just one day like a normal child.
But That wasn't your path in life.
You were brought on this earth to protect.
You are here to help hide your mums bruises.
You repeated the same script if anyone was to ask any questions.
You had to mature and come to reality that this is your life.
As you would walk into the sitting room you would see the fresh paint on the walls.
The new furniture and decoratives being placed around the room.
It almost made you feel like you walked into a new home.
Somewhere you could be happy playing games as a family.
As your eyes begin to scan the new room the mist of manipulation begins to clear.
Where the beautiful vase is placed is where your mum laid lifeless in her own blood.
Where the oversized mirror is hung on the wall is where your head was slammed against to split like a coconut.
The decorator would try to work his magic and rid the evidence and horror.
But it is too late you know what was behind the fresh clean white paint.
When will someone come save you?
Will anyone ever come save you?
You pray for a glimmer of hope.
A new and happy life.
But that is just a fairytale.
You can dream but the time comes to open your eyes to see reality.

— The End —