The day I just wished he would hit me… hard

I just started blogging. No one really reads it yet. But I’m happy. It actually feels like a small victory. It somehow means that I’ve come far, that I’ve changed, that I’ve built up my confidence again. Now that I’m able to put it in writing.

Sometimes a flash of a memory just unexpectedly pops up in my head for no obvious reason. I can be out with friends, I might do some shopping or cook dinner. And there it is suddenly. A memory I’d forgotten, a feeling I’d supressed.

One of my stongest memories is a thought and a feeling. I don’t remember the day, I don’t remember what we were arguing about, I don’t even remember what season it was. I think maybe spring. I just remember his face close to mine in rage. I remember him pacing in the hallway with clenched fists, wanting to hit something. I’d obviously done something wrong, of course it was all my fault. I wasn’t sad or even angry myself, just empty. I had shut out the noises, muted the stream of hard words towards me. He had threatened to kill my father many times before.

Oh maybe that was the cause for this argument. My father, yet again. They hated each other.

Well, I knew it was all words and no action… I think… I mean, he had said he would kill a lot of people many times before. All these idiots who’d wronged him.

And then, as I watched his tense muscular shoulders and the fury he didn’t know what to do with, a thought suddenly emerged as clear as if someone had spoken the words to me or handed me a note.

Come on, hit me! Please just hit me… Hard! 

My face tensed even more and I just stood there looking straight into his eyes, defying his. I don’t know if he noticed, I didn’t say anything. I just thought that it would be so much better, a relief even if I got hit. Then it would show. The hurt and the pain would be seen by others. Then I would be able to leave him. I couldn’t take the emotional pain anymore, I yearned for physical pain.

He never laid a hand on me, I saw that he was fighting the urge, and I was disappointed.

Now, years from then, I think I must have been nuts. Why would anyone think that? Then I remember how I felt…

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