I lay in the dark on my back in a bit of an uncomfortable position. After I had been bathed, beaten, and thrown into a sleep shirt that barely covered my bruised ass, Melissa had tossed me onto the bed. My left arm got tucked partway underneath the side of my back, and it eventually cramped up and fell asleep, circulation unable to flow through it normally.
I didn’t notice the numbness in my arm nearly as much as I noticed the stinging on my backside. After she helped get me undressed, Melissa had been sure to kick, punch, and slap my ass while hurling all kinds of profanities and false accusations at me. It angered the shit out of me to be powerless to defend myself, even vocally, let alone physically.
Fortunately, it was summer, so I wasn’t cold under the thin sheet that covered me.
Melissa warned me that she placed a wind chime on her inner door handle in case I dared to sneak into her room and do anything “stupid,” now that I could at least get into my wheelchair unassisted.
But what “stupid” thing could I do to her? Beat the shit out of her? I didn’t have the strength, and I didn’t have any weapons. Besides, I didn’t want to hurt her so much as I just wanted to get the hell away from her. Bringing harm to people was her department.
I could barely walk or crawl. I could stand for a minute or two, and that was about it. I didn’t have the strength or mobility to scope out the medicine cabinet or other cabinets and closets to see if there were scissors or something I could use to defend myself against Melissa’s cruel and vicious attacks. There were no razors in the tub. She had simply sat—well, more like thrown—me into a tub of scalding, soapy water and then used the shower hose to rinse the shampoo she roughly lathered into my hair. The hair she promised to have cut off. It was at my waist at the moment, and in my condition, I wouldn’t mind having it brought to my shoulders.
She roughly yanked me out of the tub afterward. I was amazed at how easily she lifted me because I was still heavier than she was. Same height, just heavier. Then she roughly towel-dried me. I wanted to scream when she twisted my hair to wring excess water from it. My scalp was burning so bad. I was surprised that I still had any hair left on my head.
The night was still and quiet beyond the room’s single window. For a brief moment, I considered getting in my chair, wheeling down the hall, and looking for a phone to call out for help on, but I couldn’t speak, and I remembered Melissa’s threats.
Melissa was totally unlike the person I’d always thought she was. Now that I knew who she really was, I didn’t doubt for a minute that she would carry out her threats if I found a way to tell anybody what was going on. In fact, I was so sure that she would act on those threats that I dreaded anyone at the daycare accidentally spotting my cuts and bruises. Should my pants slip down a little too low, someone might see them. Although I had no way of conveying Melissa’s threats to anyone, and as much as I assumed that I would be protected from her if I could, I wouldn’t put it past Melissa to somehow get to me in order to harm me. The real Melissa struck me as the type to bring her own self down if that’s what it took to bring someone else down. Some people were like that. They’d gladly lose it all to take what they could from someone else.
I was astounded at how my seemingly compassionate, empathetic, and understanding therapist was really little more than just a cold, calloused, and uncaring animal. My pain meant absolutely nothing to her. Nothing at all.
ns216.73.216.158da2
and then Add to home screen.