Pain Revisited
I close my eyes and remember a time that was the very meaning of pain, I sought shelter from the infinite rage, but there was none to be found. I watched with horror as you broke not just me, but my family, you did so with ease that sent a chill down my spine. You put yourself into my destruction with vigor. Maybe it was because I was small, quiet, reserved, or gentle, or maybe it was because you knew I had a will in me that rilvaled your own thirst for violence.
Crying was weak, it fueled your anger all the more, if I cried I got twice what I would have otherwise. I stopped crying after a time when you would beat me, but my will would not let you off that easily, I would provoke you to hit me harder, longer, not because I liked it, but because I knew if I did not make you fill your thirst for violence, that you would move on to someone else. My tolerance for pain to this day is immense, I welcome it. When I used to cut myself to see if I could still bleed, I did it to see if I could still feel pain.
You filled me with a thirst for pain. When I grew into a destructive person, a violent person, one who spewed filth from my mouth as you did, you hated me all the more. My temper had a short fuse as did yours. I got into fights in school almost daily. I spent more time in the principle's office than I did in class. When I would come home with reprimands from school, stating what I had done. I brought them to you as trophies, knowing that when you read them, your temper would flare, after long sessions of being beat and cussed out, you would get in my face threatening me, "If you bring another one of these home, I'll make you regret it, worse than today" and the following day, I would bring another, and I would regret it all the more, but I would bring another the next day. Over the course of one school year, I went through 13 pairs of glasses getting into brawls at school, I would tell mom that the kids were picking on me, but we knew otherwise, this only went on for so long before I was expelled. The last note I brought home before being expelled brought one of the most memorable beatings my father ever gave me.
I constantly butted heads with this kid in my class, we often got into fights together, but this one time I had really creamed Sean at school, at the end of the fight, I kicked him in the face even after he had tried to make peace, I was truly my father's son. When I brought home the pink slip, my father did something I had never expected him to do. Maybe secretly he was proud of me, at least that is what I had hoped, that for once I measured up to something in his eyes. He told me if I ever kicked anyone again that I wouldn't live to regret it, and he left it at that, my mother and him had an appointment to go to, and left Jacob and I in the care of my sister Abbie. Jake and I were rough housing as we liked to do when my parents weren't around to tell us to stop before someone got hurt, a neighbor kid came knocking at the door asking us if we wanted to play, my sister was on the phone as usual and had told us to stop wrestling and to go play, I went to do a backwards summer salt and I caught Jake right in the face with my foot, he burst into tears with a bloody nose crying so very hard, Abbie dropped the phone, perhaps she was angry because I had just interrupted her phone call, or perhaps I was truly as worthless as my father told me I was everyday, she had taken Jake into the bathroom and was doctoring his nose, she came out and slapped me across the face, "I'm telling dad when he gets home!" she said and then went back into the bathroom.
I knew I was fucked. I went down the stairs into my bedroom, I sat on the edge of my bed, my hands folded together waiting. We had church to go to that night, my father was the ultimate hypocrite, he put up this facade when he was at church or out doing the ministry with the other 'brothers', time was ticking down before we would have to leave, the thought entered my head that maybe he would save his rage until after church, how very wrong I was. I heard someone stumbling down the stairs, it sounded as if someone was falling, I ran to my door and opened it, hoping that he hadn't just pushed someone down the stairs, I stuck my head out the door, my father was there, but much to my relief, no one lay at the bottom of the stairs. I looked at my father, and he glared at me, he kicked me in the chest knocking me back into my room, he rushed in after me and closed the door, he ordered me to strip down to my underwear, off came his belt and he began whipping me, over and over and over again, I did not bother covering myself, he ordered me to my feet, I stood and he started in on my butt and legs, after a time, my whole body was reddened from head to toe. I glanced at the clock, it was 6:50PM (we had to leave for church by 7:00), he dropped his belt and backhanded me across my face, the force sent me to my knees, he kicked me in my gut as I laid on the floor knocking the wind out of me, he grabbed me by my hair and brought me to my feet where he just started slapping me across the face over and over again, my lip and nose started bleeding, my face was as red as my body from the slaps and the blood, there was a knock at the door, I closed my eyes hoping he wouldn't start in on someone else, I hoped he was tired of beating me. Jake stood at the door, my dad looked at me, "You've had enough, get ready for church.", I stared straight into his eyes, "No", I said, he turned around and punched me in my stomach, I buckled over in pain, he kicked me in the face as my body went down, "Get ready now you little piece of shit!" he screamed, he turned and left the room, I was still gasping for air and Jake and Abbie came into the room, Jake was crying, Abbie tried to help me to my feet, I pulled away from her, "I'm so sorry Brian...", "Get out!" I interrupted, I went into the bathroom and got tissue to wipe the blood from my face, the bleeding had stopped.
I went back into my bedroom and Jake was quietly getting ready for church, I got out my clothes, putting them on hurt, I said nothing as I got dressed. Jake had finished getting dressed and was staring at me, it hurt me to have him look at me, "What?!" I snapped, he did not reply, he just stood staring at me. My dad came to our bedroom door, Jake tensed up, I looked at him but said nothing, he entered the room, Jake quickly left, my dad straigtened my tie, "If you think this was bad, wait and see what happens if you do it again" he said smuggly. I pulled away from him, he grabbed my arm and slapped me across the face, "Don't you walk away from me!". I said nothing still. My mother stood in the doorway, "We have to go" she said meekly. My father turned from me and walked out. We got to church early, the rest of the family got out of the car before myself and my father, he got out, and I followed, I went to walk past him, he grabbed my arm again, "Go find a seat and don't move from it, if you talk to anyone tonight you'll get another beating when we get home" he stated matter of factly. I went inside, as I walked through the place I felt everyone's eyes on me, I wanted to scream, I went and sat down, my friends came to talk to me, but I would not respond, I just sat there. During the meeting, it became very uncomfortable to sit in one spot, my legs and butt were hurting, my father reached over and grabbed my arm, he squeezed so hard it hurt, "You're getting it when we get home ... now quit moving!" he snapped. As uncomfortable as it was, I sat in one spot the rest of the night.
When we got home, I didn't get a chance to get changed back into my pajamas, he caught me in my underwear again, he pulled off his belt again and layed into me, this went on for what seemed like forever, Jake was sitting on his bunk bed, my father had forbid him to leave, I had grown tough, I didn't normally bruise, my body had no time to recover from the beating I had got earlier, and by the time he was done, there were bruises all over my body, "Get your ass into bed you worthless piece of shit." he gasped out of breath. I climbed into my bed trying to find some spot I could lay on that didn't hurt, there was none, I laid there listening to Jacob crying, I couldn't cry, I fell asleep listening to his sobbing.
Crying was weak, it fueled your anger all the more, if I cried I got twice what I would have otherwise. I stopped crying after a time when you would beat me, but my will would not let you off that easily, I would provoke you to hit me harder, longer, not because I liked it, but because I knew if I did not make you fill your thirst for violence, that you would move on to someone else. My tolerance for pain to this day is immense, I welcome it. When I used to cut myself to see if I could still bleed, I did it to see if I could still feel pain.
You filled me with a thirst for pain. When I grew into a destructive person, a violent person, one who spewed filth from my mouth as you did, you hated me all the more. My temper had a short fuse as did yours. I got into fights in school almost daily. I spent more time in the principle's office than I did in class. When I would come home with reprimands from school, stating what I had done. I brought them to you as trophies, knowing that when you read them, your temper would flare, after long sessions of being beat and cussed out, you would get in my face threatening me, "If you bring another one of these home, I'll make you regret it, worse than today" and the following day, I would bring another, and I would regret it all the more, but I would bring another the next day. Over the course of one school year, I went through 13 pairs of glasses getting into brawls at school, I would tell mom that the kids were picking on me, but we knew otherwise, this only went on for so long before I was expelled. The last note I brought home before being expelled brought one of the most memorable beatings my father ever gave me.
I constantly butted heads with this kid in my class, we often got into fights together, but this one time I had really creamed Sean at school, at the end of the fight, I kicked him in the face even after he had tried to make peace, I was truly my father's son. When I brought home the pink slip, my father did something I had never expected him to do. Maybe secretly he was proud of me, at least that is what I had hoped, that for once I measured up to something in his eyes. He told me if I ever kicked anyone again that I wouldn't live to regret it, and he left it at that, my mother and him had an appointment to go to, and left Jacob and I in the care of my sister Abbie. Jake and I were rough housing as we liked to do when my parents weren't around to tell us to stop before someone got hurt, a neighbor kid came knocking at the door asking us if we wanted to play, my sister was on the phone as usual and had told us to stop wrestling and to go play, I went to do a backwards summer salt and I caught Jake right in the face with my foot, he burst into tears with a bloody nose crying so very hard, Abbie dropped the phone, perhaps she was angry because I had just interrupted her phone call, or perhaps I was truly as worthless as my father told me I was everyday, she had taken Jake into the bathroom and was doctoring his nose, she came out and slapped me across the face, "I'm telling dad when he gets home!" she said and then went back into the bathroom.
I knew I was fucked. I went down the stairs into my bedroom, I sat on the edge of my bed, my hands folded together waiting. We had church to go to that night, my father was the ultimate hypocrite, he put up this facade when he was at church or out doing the ministry with the other 'brothers', time was ticking down before we would have to leave, the thought entered my head that maybe he would save his rage until after church, how very wrong I was. I heard someone stumbling down the stairs, it sounded as if someone was falling, I ran to my door and opened it, hoping that he hadn't just pushed someone down the stairs, I stuck my head out the door, my father was there, but much to my relief, no one lay at the bottom of the stairs. I looked at my father, and he glared at me, he kicked me in the chest knocking me back into my room, he rushed in after me and closed the door, he ordered me to strip down to my underwear, off came his belt and he began whipping me, over and over and over again, I did not bother covering myself, he ordered me to my feet, I stood and he started in on my butt and legs, after a time, my whole body was reddened from head to toe. I glanced at the clock, it was 6:50PM (we had to leave for church by 7:00), he dropped his belt and backhanded me across my face, the force sent me to my knees, he kicked me in my gut as I laid on the floor knocking the wind out of me, he grabbed me by my hair and brought me to my feet where he just started slapping me across the face over and over again, my lip and nose started bleeding, my face was as red as my body from the slaps and the blood, there was a knock at the door, I closed my eyes hoping he wouldn't start in on someone else, I hoped he was tired of beating me. Jake stood at the door, my dad looked at me, "You've had enough, get ready for church.", I stared straight into his eyes, "No", I said, he turned around and punched me in my stomach, I buckled over in pain, he kicked me in the face as my body went down, "Get ready now you little piece of shit!" he screamed, he turned and left the room, I was still gasping for air and Jake and Abbie came into the room, Jake was crying, Abbie tried to help me to my feet, I pulled away from her, "I'm so sorry Brian...", "Get out!" I interrupted, I went into the bathroom and got tissue to wipe the blood from my face, the bleeding had stopped.
I went back into my bedroom and Jake was quietly getting ready for church, I got out my clothes, putting them on hurt, I said nothing as I got dressed. Jake had finished getting dressed and was staring at me, it hurt me to have him look at me, "What?!" I snapped, he did not reply, he just stood staring at me. My dad came to our bedroom door, Jake tensed up, I looked at him but said nothing, he entered the room, Jake quickly left, my dad straigtened my tie, "If you think this was bad, wait and see what happens if you do it again" he said smuggly. I pulled away from him, he grabbed my arm and slapped me across the face, "Don't you walk away from me!". I said nothing still. My mother stood in the doorway, "We have to go" she said meekly. My father turned from me and walked out. We got to church early, the rest of the family got out of the car before myself and my father, he got out, and I followed, I went to walk past him, he grabbed my arm again, "Go find a seat and don't move from it, if you talk to anyone tonight you'll get another beating when we get home" he stated matter of factly. I went inside, as I walked through the place I felt everyone's eyes on me, I wanted to scream, I went and sat down, my friends came to talk to me, but I would not respond, I just sat there. During the meeting, it became very uncomfortable to sit in one spot, my legs and butt were hurting, my father reached over and grabbed my arm, he squeezed so hard it hurt, "You're getting it when we get home ... now quit moving!" he snapped. As uncomfortable as it was, I sat in one spot the rest of the night.
When we got home, I didn't get a chance to get changed back into my pajamas, he caught me in my underwear again, he pulled off his belt again and layed into me, this went on for what seemed like forever, Jake was sitting on his bunk bed, my father had forbid him to leave, I had grown tough, I didn't normally bruise, my body had no time to recover from the beating I had got earlier, and by the time he was done, there were bruises all over my body, "Get your ass into bed you worthless piece of shit." he gasped out of breath. I climbed into my bed trying to find some spot I could lay on that didn't hurt, there was none, I laid there listening to Jacob crying, I couldn't cry, I fell asleep listening to his sobbing.