The pain his hand brings,

To me, his child,

Makes me wonder why I'm here.

If I'm such a pain, such a bother,

Why am I here?

Why does he hate me?

He loves my brothers.

He loves my Mother.

But me, I'm a different situation altogether,

He hit me.

He hit me. He hit me. He hit me.

It hurt. I covered up everyday,

So that others won't see,

Just what my stepfather did to me.

Mommy didn't know. She never would.

At least, not if he could still hurt me.

"If I tell, he'll hit me more"

I think to myself, alone on the playground.

It hurt to sit, let alone run around.

Then Mommy left, and it became worse.

He hit me every night.

Because he needed a way to release his anger.

I was it.

He laughed when I cried.

When Mommy took me away,

He lied.

He lied to her.

To the court.

To the world.

He's a monster. A villain.

And I'm the victim.

An innocent child.

But I'm done.

I won't cry anymore.

Not now,

Not ever.

I am numb.

I am stone.