Stop it.
What?
You’re hurting me.
Don’t be a baby.
Get off me.
What are you going to do about it?
You’re hurting me.
She thought she could do this because she was bigger. And she could. What was I going to do about it? My wrists were raw from where she twisted the skin. A rock bruised my back when I fell and now it dug in deeper with her weight on me. I looked into her eyes and they gave me no answers, just a darting wildness. She didn’t know what she would do next and that excited her.
Please.
She had given up on words. Instead she shifted her weight, placing her knees onto my forearms and sitting back on my chest. Her arms were free. She flexed her fingers, curious what they might do next.
I kicked my feet in the air trying to knock her off me, but she held on. I struggled like this for a couple minutes until I was out of breath and my face turned red. She held her hand out like she was going to slap me, but then slowly brought it to my cheek and began to caress me. Her voice cooed in high-pitched voice.
Who’s a fussy baby? Who’s a fussy baby? You are. Yes, You are. There’s no need to be so fussy. Mommy’s here now. No need to cry when Mommy’s here.
I wanted to scream that I wasn’t crying. But it wasn’t true. I’m not sure when hot tears rolled down the sides of my face, but they had. She put her hands on either side of my head. I closed my eyes, and I could feel her pressing down. When I opened them, her face was right over my face, her nose almost touching my nose. Her expression was a language I didn’t know. The moment I turned my head away I knew I had done something wrong. I had shown weakness. She coughed flem into her mouth and spit slowly, so that it seemed to hang from her mouth for a moment before landing on my face.
You’re mine now. I own you.
