Sugarcoat

Sometimes I wish she'd hit me. Hit me so incredibly hard, beat me to a pulp, but the most important part would be the bruises and cuts for everyone to see.And I'm not the young child she used to slap across the face, and I'm not the young woman who lost herself to everything she told me was wrong with me. But that would make it fresh, not for me, because it's already fresh every time I lie awake at night and think about the time she shoved my brother up against a wall. No, it would make it fresh for everyone around me. So that they could hurt with me based on something tangible, rather than nightmares or panic attacks.

But maybe those are just easier to hide than bruises. Maybe I wish for something that is obvious abuse so that I can't hide it any longer or sugarcoat a single bit of it. I want everyone to know what kind of monster she's been to me, without any censoring.