I tried to out run my Dad's thundering wrath, but my 9 year old legs just weren't fast enough. The chase continued down the street, the belt pelting my back, my arms, my legs. I had been to the playground and lost track of time. He came in a rage and chased me down the long concrete sidewalk.
Cars drove by, people watched from their front porches,they heard my cries for help, but no one intervened. I was being publicly beaten, publicly humiliated, publicly rejected, publicly abused physically and verbally and not one person cared to stop the violence against me. Not even when the belt wrapped around my ankle causing me to fall. They heard my cry, but no one cared. Even as he grabbed me by the arm to pull me back up to my feet, ripping the sleeve of my blouse, no one came to save me from the ravages of an out of control man.
I felt ashamed, defiled, naked, vulnerable, abandoned. I felt like a failure and a sinful person because no one cared enough to come to my rescue, to save me. I must have deserved his wrath.
A Life Scarred by Fridays
It's Friday....but Sunday's a Comin'!
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