Washing up

She would leave money on the table. It made me feel cheap that she would never give it to me. Said it was for the shopping. I had to make it stretch, get everything on her list, no excuses.

Sometimes, though, it wasn’t enough, and I’d have to beg or steal to get everything. Couldn’t go back without it all, it made her mad.

I tried to use it once to make a break for it, but she tracked me down. There was no escape.

He would put sleeping powder in my drink. I’d wake up confused, not knowing what happened or where I was. Sometimes, I’d also feel pain, you know, down there. Maybe it was a good thing in a way, because I wouldn’t remember what he did.

But it still left me feeling violated and scared.

I remember having this page in my notebook where I scribbled ‘NOT REAL’ over and over again. He kept insisting I’d done things I hadn’t, trying to make me believe I was a bad person. I scribbled so hard, my pen went through the page.

It was like all the shouting inside me found its way out onto that paper.

He knew when I got paid on Fridays. The money would go straight into my bank account, but he’d make me go to the cashpoint to withdraw it.

I worked my butt off all week for that cash, but I never got to keep any of it. It felt like all my hard work was for nothing, like he was just using me so he could go to the pub.

She had this diary, but it wasn’t for remembering fun stuff or happy times. Nope, it was all about the times I messed up. Every little mistake or thing I did wrong, she’d write it down like it was some kind of crime.

It felt like she never missed a chance to point out my mistakes, but when it came to the good stuff? Forget about it. It’s like it never even happened.

It made me feel like I couldn’t do anything right, always walking on eggshells around her.

Every morning there was a cup of tea waiting for me in the kitchen. Always in the same broken cup. I hated that cup, I wanted to smash it, but that would just get me in trouble. She would also leave the teabag and spoon for me to clean up.

She did it to remind me that I was a broken mess and that nobody would want me.

The thought of it still makes me feel sad and lonely.