A Reverse Chronological Portrait Written by a Young Girl
Entry 6
I let a man walk all over me.
No, he never hurt me. He never hit me. Sometimes, he would push me. He would grab me by the hair or the neck, pinning me down or against a wall. It didn’t hurt me, or I don’t remember it hurting. It, though, scared me. The look in his eyes as he pinned down each of my wings with skilled precision – that scared me. I never knew a voice could be so loud.
Yes, it’s strange to hear the words aloud and to see them on paper. Isn’t it funny? He walked all over me until I was covered in bruises. I saw nothing of myself but his footprints.
No, he never hurt me. He never hit me. Sometimes, he would push me. He would grab me by the hair or the neck, pinning me down or against a wall. It didn’t hurt me, or I don’t remember it hurting. It, though, scared me. The look in his eyes as he pinned down each of my wings with skilled precision – that scared me. I never knew a voice could be so loud.
Yes, it’s strange to hear the words aloud and to see them on paper. Isn’t it funny? He walked all over me until I was covered in bruises. I saw nothing of myself but his footprints.