Daycare

Naptime. A pleasant feeling.
She drags me away.
God hates you!
No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't…
He’ll send you to HELL for what you've done!
Why? What have I done?
A dark room. A locked door. A fresh mark on my cheek.
A new day.
You idiot! Why can’t you do anything right?!
I’m sorry! I can do better. I’m sorry!
A knife. She pursues. I scream.
Why? What have I done?
A fresh start.
Another nap.
The dark room again. Terror.
A bruise.
My mother questions.
I fell, she says. And mother believes.
Hopeless. I cry.
Why? What have I done?