One of my first memories of my stepfather is of him hitting me in the face and bloodying my nose. I wasn't even old enough to go to school yet and my sister was a toddler. I must have been around five years old when this happened. I don’t remember what I did to deserve the punishment. What I remember was being in the bathroom surrounded by bloodied toilet paper because my nose was gushing. My baby sister appeared in the doorway, saw the blood and started screaming. My stepfather came rushing down the hallway and scooped her into his arms. When he noticed me in my bloody mess he put my sister down, picking me up instead. He carried me to his recliner and held me on his lap, stroking my hair and back, hugging me tightly. Over and over again he said he was sorry and promised never to hit me again. I believed him – he really did love me. But... I was wrong. He lied.
No comments:
Post a Comment