She controlled every part of my life, every part of me with no letup.  None. Ever.  She beat me, and belittled me, and shamed me, and hated me, because I existed, and sometimes I existed only  for her sadistic violent pleasure.  In me she could find all she hated about herself.  In me she could find everything she despised.  In me she could find excuses to hurt, to make the hurt in me, not her.  She sacrificed  me to her god of violence and hate and hurt.  The monster god that I saw in her eyes and mouth, and fists.  The vengeful god that she paid homage to through her violent rituals that she acted out on my body.  Rituals of pain that she embraced.  Rituals of pain and hate that had no rules except that I would be the one to feel the pain, she the one inflicting it.  She welcomed this monster god into her heart, and embraced its power.  The monster god, that is always ready to break free, too large to be contained..  She used a communion of pain and blame and shame, to put her bastard monster god in me.  It wasn’t enough that she welcomed it into herself.  She had to sacrifice me to it too.  It demanded its just due.  It fed on the fear and weakness of others.  Meals of little boys and little girls, so that the monster god could grow.  The monster god was everything, we were nothing.

    © 1998 Ken Scully

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