Because...(dark...yet sorta not?)

do you ever wonder how/where in the hell 'you' come up w/ some of this stuff??
...in the 1st-person no less??

am i just talking to myself here (again)?
yup.

carry on...
~~~~~~~~~~


"Bring me your paddle, Zara."

And I do.
I always do.

"Across my lap, little one," she tells me, patting her thighs.

And I go.
I always go.

There is nary a thought in my head that directs me to.
My brain is screaming at me to do everything but.

And yet my body goes.


I hate this.
I hate her.
And stop calling me "little one" goddammit.
I am not 5.
And I am not a little girl.
I've survived as many lifetimes as my 'mere' 14 years.

I lie face down on the bed across my former-therapist-turned-mother's lap.
My bottom is further elevated by the pillow on her thighs.
"Lift your hips up for a sec, honey."
Her hand rests (for all too brief a time) on my now-bare bottom.


4'8" little one or not, my all-muscle 80 pound self could still kick her skinny social workin' ass.
And she knows it.

I don't fight.
I don't plead.
I don't argue.
I don't struggle.
I don't beg.

Not then.
Not during.


I went to week long training camps and no one even noticed I was gone.
With a bank card and an account full of his dirty money,
I was "otherwise" taking complete care of myself when I was SIX.
They said my mother was really nothing but a crack-whore goomah who'd up and abandoned me.

I wouldn't tell you back then why it might really be that I'd starved myself into your office by 10 years old.
I didn't tell you that they'd just let the squealing foot soldier...rape me.
I did not need to be told it was the "perfect" defense, on the unlikely occasion that the body was ever found--
having been riddled with bullets 2 feet from where I lay ignored on the bed.
I didn't tell you, I didn't tell anyone.
Because my own life always seemed a small price to pay for protecting the few who gave a damn, protecting yours--
and your family that I did not know.


"Tell me why you're getting a spanking, lovey."

Because you're a mean figlio di puttana.

"Uh huh, and why else?"

Because...the
i-lied-about-yaddah-yaddah
and/or-did-blah-bleh-blah
and/or-yaddah-yaddah-yaddah
of the moment.


Really because...

...my first language is body and actions, and I am not quite fully fluent yet in words.
Because 'coaching' me to be so is still your goal, but some things you will not chance to potential miscomprehension.

Because I never got to be 5.
Because it's about time I got to live a lifetime.
Because I only "hate" that I love and so overwhelmingly need you, with an intensity that I'm positive defies all logic.

Because you notice (*grumble_grumble*) everything.

Because you don't know what really happened, or why, either--
only that you will not leave me, and one of these days, I will damn well know it too.

Because care-taking and protection is your job now, not mine.
Because it's not ok to hide that I'm hurting.
Because it's not ok to not speak the truth.
Because the family I didn't know has since declared itself mine.


Porca miseria, my ass hurts!

"I'm sure it does...I think it needed to."

*hmph*...
*hmph*!


Because a sore bottom is a small price to pay for a healing soul.

Because you are my Jax.
And I will always be your little one.

- posted by unquiet @ 5:34 PM