My Bullies My Lovers

As I gradually climbed up off of the bathroom floor I stood up to look at myself in the mirror. There was a noticeable bruise on the side of my face, but as I looked down at my torn clothing, that’s where all the newest cuts and bruises were. The bright red scar on my lower stomach was visible through the torn clothes and brought me back to when I actually received it. A couple of years ago my father was pissed at me for doing something that I hadn’t done but he wouldn’t listen to me. He held me down while he cut that scar into my stomach. Branding me for life so I would know not to do that non existent offense again.

I could hear my father in the other room talking to his friend. The same friend that had just paid me a visit. They were laughing and drinking and pretending like everything was all fine, while I was still in the bathroom barely able to move. I gripped on to the basin while my hands were shaking and I could feel the blood trickling down my legs.

I wish I could say that this was the first time. But I’ve now come to predict when his friends are going to come over because it happens so often now.

I heard the friend asking when I would be available again and dad told him to stop by any time. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to imagine that I was somewhere else. I tried to find a happy place. But I wasn’t surprised when I couldn’t find a happy place. There was nothing happy about my life right now.

It had already been a really long night. I stood in the bathroom listening to them and hoping that they would go downstairs and away from me. I needed them to get the hell away from me.

No matter how much money my father had, it didn’t mean he was a smart man when it came to acting like a human being. Actually, the more money he seems to make, the less of a human he becomes. He was a monster, but he had such a great public persona that no one would believe me if I ever tried to tell the truth. He was well too connected and he would have all of his rich friends rallying behind him.

I heard that there are more psychopaths working on wall street than actual serial killers in the whole world. They just channel that energy into screwing people over, not killing people.

If only I’d been born a boy. I’m sure my dad would have adored me. He always said that he wanted a male heir to take over his vast company. And since there were complications after my birth, my mother wouldn’t be able to have any more children. I don’t know why he would just try and have kids with someone else. It’s not like we meant anything to him. We were just a means to an end. But that never happened and I wasn’t what he wanted at all and he’s made that very clear over the years.

It’s been hard enough dealing with him but since my mother died, it’s been even worse. She’s been gone since I was 5 and I don’t know if my father thinks I am a complete idiot or not. He probably does, but I’ve always had my suspicions around my mother’s death. I’ve seen the accident reports and I don’t think it was an accident. And given my fathers temper, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with it.

But I know that he’s got a lot of top police officials as friends and people in high places. So there’s no way he will ever go down for anything that he does.

I believe he’s been getting worse as time goes on. Not only does he beat me whenever he likes, but he also allows his friends to do whatever they want. As long as they pay him for the privilege. And I can’t do anything to stop them. If I try, I get beaten twice as bad.

I guess I could probably live with what he gives me if just once in a while he would show me any sort of love or kindness. Or if he could just show that he cared once. But I’ve never seen or heard a single nice thing come from that man. Not directed at me anyway.

I knew that I would have to start getting ready for school soon. And even though it would be a nice break from this house, school wasn’t much better. I always had to look over my shoulder there as well. One group in particular hated me but I didn’t know why. They just figured that I was going to be their target one day and that was it.

I was living in constant fear and agony no matter where I went. Having to wear clothing that hid the bruises and scars that were all over my body.

But today, I was actually looking forward to today.

We were getting a couple of new transfer students and I know that one of them is a kid I went to middle school with. He was my sole friend there and actually made me feel safe. I would escape to his house whenever I couldn’t handle my father and when he was off on one of his rants. His parents were always great to me but he went to a different high school and we lost touch. But now he’s transferring to mine. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years and I hope that he remembers me. But I don’t know anything about the other two that are coming to our school.

I hope he’s still the same kid that I knew. I hope that we can still be friends, but I had a gnawing feeling in my gut that it wasn’t going to be the same. How could it? We were in high school now and reputation was everything.

He might have a good reputation, we all know that I don’t. I don’t have any friends and I don’t have anyone to lean on when I need help. I wasn’t sure what today was going to bring.