Click, click, click....
They sounded like hard, solid knocks on a marble floor. He remembered them. They were the same every time. It was always the same. Boots on the floor, tapping, as his voice bellowed out at him, the lurid, endless accusations, the slurs and slanders, each cruel word, every firm, cold lashing of the tongue. He felt numb, there was a strange ache in his stomach, rumbling, on and on....
He heard the glisteningly-silent whoosh through the air before an open hand slapped against his right cheek. Hard. He doesn't cry. He doesn't tumble to the ground. His feet were planted on the tiles, rooted as he felt a burning conviction, convinced himself he had to do this. It was his only act of resistance, the only time he ever felt in control, so he took it: the hits, the whacks, he turned his mind off as he transformed himself into the same, battered punching bag, saying nothing back, falling for none of the verbal traps.
He felt the blows again, hitting bruises that hadn't yet healed, scratching and breaking skin that hadn't yet repaired, he tried to bite his lip but his jaw was trembling too much.
A question. Another question. No, it was a trap. He stayed silent. And now he was angry that he didn't answer. He couldn't win with him, never could win, never could win, never could....another hit, this time on the thigh. Now on the waist, this one feels worse than the others, it felt like some icy-hot flame trickling up his hip and spine.
Ah...the tears, now they came. They so rarely did nowadays.
Stupid, he told himself, stupid for crying. Idiot, you can never do anything right! More tears now. Stop it! He willed himself hard, he felt his inner voice screaming in his head, but his eyes were in rebellion against his mind, he was helpless, he felt paralysed as the wooden cane sliced through the air, the stinging weapon whipped every part of his helpless, wretching form. He didn't want to recoil, didn't want to give him the pleasure of seeing him squirm, and yet alas his shoulders and his body twisted and turned at every solid, ceaseless strike. Idiot, stop moving! Stop....he willed himself again....no, there it was once more, his body moved, he tried to stop it and get it under control, but nothing worked.
He did not want to listen. Stop it....stop it, stop listening! His brain sent mad signals across his body, nothing worked, there it was again, he heard the condemnatory sermon, the familiar rebuke, it filled his heart with dread. It felt so distant as if in a scarce whisper, a nightmare...
"You were a curse, a sin! If only God would take you from me! Selfish little bitch!"
I'm sorry...I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry....his lips mouthed the words silently, no sound escaped him, except the pitiful whimper, the light gasp. Those words echoed in his brain, over and over again....worthless....selfish...useless...sin...demon-child....
I'm not...please stop....please....no...I'm not...don't say that...stop it.....the tears kept flowing endlessly like a river, his hands were still clenched so tight, he felt as if his nerves would snap from the tension....
"Why didn't you die in the womb, you insolent little bastard kid!"
No...no stop it....no get off me please....please get off....go away....go away from me stop it.....I just want it to end....I just want it all to stop.....he felt his body flinch, he felt a demon laughing at the back of his brain, a cruel, vindictive, maniacal little impish laugh, it made him so mad he could barely stand it, he wiped away a tear from his left eye as he hurled a loud, desperate scream, shrieking up into the air, praying to some impassionate god out there to save him and take him away. He threw his body forward, he felt a wall of resistance build and yet he pressed on...
I want it to stop...let it stop....let it all end please....please no more of this....no more of this life....
He held him down, he squeezed, hard....and as he did, he heard the demon in the back of his mind, but he was choking now.....unable to speak...his cruel, painful words and laughter suddenly ceased...oh it was such a cool, sweet relief, but he could barely savour it, his mouth reeked of the salt of his tears as he shook his head, squeezing hard, afraid to let go, not wanting to hear another dagger pierce his ears as his hands gripped down harder with all his dear, dear life, squeezing, squirming, clasping...
It was as if he could hold down forever.