nubbly and hard under my hands. The kitchen lights were blazing, I heard the crunch of gravel in the drive, he carried me upstairs I think he hit me hard, openhanded across the face rocking my whole head sideways and hurting my neck....maybe more than once, I seem to remember his face pinched in fury.I know, that was what that keening was about...I remembered the way the despair settled on me, I knew something undefined and horrible was going to happen, and I had screamed until hoarse for my mom to not leave (for work), and I couldn't say why, couldn't blocked it all out......my hair hanging over(my face) and my hands on that carpet....I had got down on the kitchen floor then too. I think he ended up picking me up, because I was there on my hands and knees, bleating in terror...throat too raw to scream any more...I had screamed like a trapped animal and it had done nothing, nothing. I remember that carpet, someone had carpeted that kitchen floor with this weird patterned stuff,
He could never stand me crying, so he hit me until I stopped.
But he hit me often enough.
He had sex with me often enough.
I was six. I loved this man like the sea follows the moon... helpless to stop myself.
He was hitting me and raping me, forcing me to a revolting arousal I was not ready for,tangling pain, blood and comfort in my mind. I was going psychotic from it.