As I sit with my sister.
Dark fell hours ago.
Yet the lights are still on.
I will never forget the screams.
The claws across my father’s back.
The biting and thrashing.
Like a preacher he strode, reading aloud.
My mother’s diary.
A blurry moment that one day shaped me.
This must be what trauma is.
Never to trust again.
To lose your voice.
Your confidence.
Your childhood.
I wanted to see, but my sister held me.
I had never heard the word divorce.
Yet it made me cry.
On that couch.
It may have been days later.
Weeks or even hours.
A crude branding upon my memory.
No child needs that.
About the Creator
Brier
Im a drunk steel worker from Wisconsin that enjoys writing. Currently working on my first novel and doing some short stories in the mean time.
Comments (2)
This is heartbreaking in its honesty. That final line says everything.
This was so heartbreaking. I agree, no child needs that 🥺