Humiliation
My Dad's open hand flashed across my face sending my glasses shooting to the carpet in my Grandfather's dining room. My face turned red with humiliation, anger, and hatred. I looked at his face while my eyes welled up with tears and I wanted to spit on him. I was eleven and was beginning to realize that my Dad enjoyed humiliating me in public. This time it was because of something he thought I said to my sister while we were playing. Another time it was because I was tired of being on a little league team with a verbally abusive coach. My Dad loves me but he sure loved to hit me when people were around! I mean, who was I but some one who tormented his precious daughter? Who was I but some one he had to spend his time and money on since he was seventeen?
I'll never forget the look in his eyes before he slapped me that night. It was the same look he had when he had his hands wrapped around my neck eleven years later. That look of barely contained glee that said "Yes, I am finally hurting this motherfucker!"
I'll never forget the look in his eyes before he slapped me that night. It was the same look he had when he had his hands wrapped around my neck eleven years later. That look of barely contained glee that said "Yes, I am finally hurting this motherfucker!"