Mommy always called me a fat worthless fuck. I flinched any time I heard the word 'fuck' now, because it made me think of what Daddy started doing to me so often. I hated it. It made me feel so disgusting and dirty. Deep down in my guts, I felt like I hated myself. Why shouldn't I? That's all I've ever been told...
"You stupid son of a bitch. I wish you would just waste away to nothin' and die. But then we'd have to hide your corpse. And you ain't even worth that effort." She slammed me against the wall. I was naked, and she was touching me in a place I didn't want to be touched. I squirmed. She smiled. "You're gonna grow up to be big like your daddy, I bet." She cackled.
"P...please...please s...stop...Mommy..." Blood was running from my face. My lip was split, so any time I spoke, I spit blood everywhere.
"Bitch, I have just started." She slammed me into the wall again. Harder this time. I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs. I gasped for air.
"Tim! Get in here, he's gettin' warmed up for you!" She laughed.
Daddy walked in the room, cigarette hanging from his mouth like always. I hated the smell of smoke. He carried a bottle of something in his hand that sloshed around. He was probably drunk.
"Come on, little mouse. It's time to play." He undid his belt, pulling it from his jeans and started beating me with it. I whimpered in pain, weak from the beating I had already gotten from Mommy. "You know you deserve this, don't you, you little fuckin' whore." He pounded on me again. "Bitch. You don't even deserve me bein' as gentle as I am."
Gentle. He thought he was being gentle.
He spun me around and pressed his mouth to mine. I tasted whatever he was drinking. It made me want to vomit.
"You little fuckin' piece of shit." He threw me onto my bed, pinning my face against the headboard before I had a chance to move. He slid me up so my chest was against the headboard and began his new favorite method of torturing me. All I could do was cry. I hated every second of this. It hurt so much more than being beaten. I could feel him pressing me against the headboard harder, then start slamming me over and over and over again, with each of his thrusts.
Suddenly I heard a bunch of cracks, and mind-blowing pain rip through my body. He had broken my ribs. I screamed, the world going black.
"He fuckin' passed out!" I heard as I came back to the world.
"No, his eyes are open." Mama laughed.
"He went real limp there for a second." I heard him laugh cruelly. "Is that because you like it, you little whore?" He slammed into me hard, and I bit back a screech. "ANSWER ME."
"N...no..."
"What?" He grabbed my face and made me look at him. "What did you say? I said. You must like it. Think good before you answer, boy."
I gulped. "Y...y...yes..."
"Good." He continued, merciless in his torture. It seemed like forever until he screamed and let me go. I always knew when he screamed, I was free.
Mommy stayed in the room after Daddy left. "You're a fat fucking piece of shit. You know, maybe I could actually love you if you weren't so fat."
I didn't understand. As thin as I was now, she thought I was fat? I saw other kids walking along the street during the day. They were heavier than I was, and she was calling me fat?
I felt a glimmer of hope, though. Maybe if I could just be a little skinnier she would love me.
She stood and approached me. I flinched, tears running down my face. Please don't hurt me. I was in so much pain I thought I would die. She grabbed my rib cage and pressed down on it, feeling the bones move under her hand. I screamed in agony, howling at the merciless touches.
"Dumb fucker broke your ribs. Can't have fun with you for a couple days, you'll fuckin' die, and then what'll we do with your fuckin' useless body?" She spat. I was extremely thankful that I wouldn't be beaten for a few days, but I knew I wouldn't be fed, either. "It's a damn shame you're such a fuckin' waste." She walked out, leaving me alone.
The next few days I starved myself. When they left, I usually scavenged for food, but I didn't. I was in too much pain to really move around too much, and I was trying to win my mother's affections.
I felt myself growing weaker by the end of the week. I would have to eat something eventually. I found something to eat in the dumpster in the alley adjacent to our home, and tottered back inside. My ribs still hurt, and breathing was excruciating.
That night, my mother came into my room. I stood proudly, offering a smile.
"What the fuck are you smilin' at, fucker?"
"D...Do you love me now? I...I lost weight..." I knew I had. My clothes were bigger.
She laughed as if I had said the funniest thing in the world. "Look at you! You're even uglier than you were before, you fuckin freak! I could never love you!" She continued to laugh. I had starved myself for nothing...I began to cry.
"B...b...but y...you said...you s...said you could love me...i...if I was skinnier..."
"You piece of fucking shit. I couldn't ever love you. NO ONE could ever love you. You're nothing. You're not worth. Anything. Can't you get that through your stupid thick fucking skull?"