Tuesday...

It was that time of the week again. I begged my dad to not let this continue, but he didn’t care. I was scared out of my mind! Every week the load was just more and more. I don’t think my body can take it. It was as if God wanted me to suffer without a soul to even concern themselves for my innocence. This has been happening since I was at least eight. Every week seems to get worse. I can’t do anything without the traumatic thoughts of my dad standing at the doorway muttering, “It’s time to get it over with.” It was like a picture painted in my head forever. He pulled in the driveway. His footsteps sounded like the hands of a clock counting down the seconds he would arrive at the door. At that moment my heart was blistering. He stepped in the house with the immediate thought of running straight to my room. He looked at me and I already knew that the abuse was about to began. He escorted me down the hallway while my mother was gone. He had a smirk on his face and with a slight crack in voice he said, “Skylar, Have you lost your mind? We told you earlier to please fold these clothes for me and your mother.”