Scarred for life

It’s summer time. All the pretty girls are letting down their hair. Going out in their shorts and tanks. Bikinis. Boys. Beaches. When you look at me you can’t tell it’s summer. My hair stays hidden beneath a hat. Always. I stay hidden behind jeans and sweaters. Why? Cause of my scars. Some from me. Most from mom. Others from dad. A few from brother. Like the one on my stomach from the time mommy didn’t wanna make dinner for dad. She was mad. Grabbed my brothers football cleats. Sliced my stomach. Ran after me and got my back. Or the time I didn’t get good grades so dad took a belt to my body. Sting. Sting. Relief. Not because he stopped. But because he stopped using the metal part. Or maybe the time when mom and dad were fighting. So mom took a book and threw it at my head. Peeling the skin on the side of my face by my eye off. My favorite is the time when I was a kid. I was sleeping mom came in got on my bed and just started jamming her foot into my stomach. Kicking and jamming into my stomach and chest. They only do it cause they love me right?….