crescent

She always tried to be gentle. It never felt gentle to me.

"I can't stop — this has to be done by next week." My mother hears the cries "Sweetie — you have an entire week to do this. You can stop.". The memories all come flooding back "Please. You can stop. I won't tell anyone. Please stop!" Your cries for help go unnoticed, and unanswered. No one was around. Or did they not care?

My mother noticed me staring at a wall. Little did she know I was staring straight at my fears. "Did you hear me?" She said in a stern but gentle voice.

"Don't bite. Be gentle."

I haven't told her yet. How would she react? Her own blood — my own blood.

Now my blood felt dirtier than ever. A single touch would bring me all back to where it started.

"I said it's only a test. You don't always have to be perfect."

But I do.

I'm a failure.

I failed myself.

I failed my family.

I failed my body.

My mother looked at me and when I looked back I saw what I never wanted to see again