I will be beautiful

“This year, I will be beautiful,” he thought, his heart tied up against his fallen chest.

Several bruised ribs stung his crumbled lungs, sheer gusts of air battling the crooked bones to conquer some needy space.

“Beautiful ,beautiful,” his mind struggled to remember how to breathe.

He grasped a handful of his hair and tugged harshly, relocating the stinging pain from his limbs to his head. One, two, five seconds of numb thoughts before his own screams became significant to his ears again.

He felt daddy’s hurtful hand creeping up his body again, lacing calloused fingerprints in the boy’s skin. Touches contemplating where they would turn vicious and transform pearly skin into grey membranes of broken trust. A voice musing “repulsive,repulsive.”

Daddy wasn’t here  now but daddy was everywhere.

“One day,” he promised his crying eyes “I will be beautiful.”

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