I got hit with a metal broom stick. Twice.

Getting hit for doing something wrong was a common thing in my family. Probably common in other houses, too.

But that metal stick,
****
I tell you

Hurt like fire.

The first time, I screamed at him. I called him a "gangster". Because that's what he looked like. Beating the **** out of me and my brother with a metal stick.

That night my eyes wouldn't stop tearing up. The fact that I couldn't die was so depressing. I wanted to dissappear from this world so bad, but I knew I wasn't supposed to.

That week my right shoulder turned green.

The next week I got hit again. It hurt more. I remember trying to stop him when he brought out the stick.
"Dad please don't do this. I admit that I was acting terrible, but this isn't right."
I was trying to be confident, but at the same time I was pleading him to stop. Because I knew how much it hurt.

But

The next few minutes I was crouched against a wooden door, screaming "STOP! I'M SORRY! IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!"

(Side thought; maybe this is why I have a habit of blaming everything on me when there's a problem.)

My left arm became swollen. My brother and I were forced in the backyard for 10 minutes. It was raining. And it was cold.

So pathetic. Shivering and sobbing. Texting my friend with shaking fingers.
"help"
"help"
"help"

I knew I should've reached for help. I even got a contact for my church Pastor. Yet I hesitated and hesitated and wondered if I was being overdramatic. Time passed, then the chance that I was given was blown away.

They've brainwashed me so bad.
"It's all my fault. I deserved to be hit. I can't do anything. There's people who go through worse than this. This isn't abuse."

This

I don't know anymore
I don't know anymore

It's so funny how 2 days after that disaster we were laughing and playing sports in our backyard. Weird family. We always act like nothing happened.

Last night, I had a dream that my dad was beating my back with a baseball bat.

Is this okay? Is this right? Am I being traumatized?

My heart thumps as I'm writing this. I still have a tiny green mark on my right arm, and my left arm is still bruised.

I keep thinking that there are people out there who go through worse situations. They get abused for no reasons.
And my brain keeps grabbing my neck
squeezing it
choking it
slapping my face in the middle of the night
screaming

"If you didn't act immature, you wouldn't have been hit! YOU should act up- YOU DESERVE IT!"

ah

And that's the reason why I can't finished my homework right now.

Wanna be friends?