Rehab

I remember it vividly.
My cries and you yelling at me.
The sound of your belt hitting my skin.
The shouting,"you cry and I'll do it again."
Pulling on extra pants so it won't hurt as bad when I hear the belt buckle jingling.
The screaming inside that masked the sound of a little girls innocence dying.
My mothers lying.
The cover ups and shut ups.
The " you did this to yourself. You deserved it," moments.
The years of violent flashbacks that aide in the harshness of my anxiety attacks.
The gun lock on the fridge..
Because, at fourteen, you thought I was too big.
The days of not eating.
Then the binging and purging.
The years of self destruction and mutilation.
As an adult she is in need of rehabilitation.