She saw the blood from her head drip onto her hand and
began to let out soft cries. She wanted to scream but she knew
she must tolerate the pain enough not to scream, otherwise she
would risk being struck again. Six year old Noelle had no idea
what she did wrong, but she was really sorry.
She struggled to her feet and crept up the stairs, quietly
counting every step as if they were the sheep she counted at
night. One step, two, three, four––BANG! She
wasn’t quiet enough. “Stop crying, f*cking
brat!” Norman walked away. He was the worst. Noelle
struggled to stand up again, she fought to swallow her tears. Not
just because of the pain, but because Norman knocked the tooth
out of her mouth and she couldn’t find it. She really
really, really wanted to see the tooth fairy.
Noelle arrived in her room and reached under her bed for her
doctors kit that she got for christmas. A bunch of toy supplies
in a paper Costco bag labeled “Dr. Noelle." She opened
it briskly and reached for the dentists mirror. As she stared at
her tiny reflection she could see the blood run over the bruises
on her face, occasionally intertwining with her tears. She lifted
up her shirt and counted seven. Seven spots of blue and black
torture.
Mother would call it an accident. I wondered what kind of
accident would hurt me with 7 spots. Mother was really good at
making up stories.
credit ≥≥
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