Written by Atticus Payne – Instagram: @talesfromboredom


The cane: I hate it.

There is the scream of shock. There is the scream of fear. And then, there is the scream of agony. All three have their times and purposes. All three are stored within me, a part of me so deep I dare not touch. That no one should dare touch, but has been stained countless times by the angry pink marks. They would raise, natural inflammation doing its job, but they always faded eventually.

Thank God for that. Hiding them was a pain.

You see, there is something that scares a person so deeply, cracking all the way down to their chest’s core, when they realise they have absolutely no control over the release of those screams. Shock, fear, agony, or all three at once, tear out of your mouth on instinct.

It’s not for attention, I promise, I promise. I cannot control it.

Well, that’s never worked. It was always almost as if once the sounds left my mouth, I’d lose all control of anything that came out of there. Only the screams would come, even if I tried to speak. Shock, fear, or agony? 

Shock, because even speaking up to promise something was disrespect, and only brought more pain? 

Fear, because now there was even more shouting, the screams were echoing, and all that I could hear was to move, out, and onto the porch’s floor? Because kneeling — what they screamed for — meant submission, and submission might bring even more pain?

Agony, because the pain was too much for a small mind. Because the hurt and betrayal from the ones I’d thought I loved were impossible to think of, yet glaringly obvious with every stroke. Because all three at once, and the shouting, and the running, and the slamming of doors, the demands that it be opened again and that I kneel were just too much for me. Because they saw the marks and the bruises, and they knew. Because they yelled that I could tell everyone in school the next day why my legs had turned that way. Wearing shorts, so that it would be seen.

Yes, that seemed to fit.

This will hurt me more than it hurts you, ya know that?

I didn’t know. I don’t know, still.

Would it? Because I know the scream of agony, I know the source of it. And it hurts pretty deep.

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