“I hate it – I meant HATE – when people justify their actions. It’s as if they’re babies who were caught smearing their own feces all over the wall and now trying, trying so hard to make their mommies and daddies believe that it wasn’t their doing, that- that it was wrong of the invisible ghost unicorn to do it and none of it was their fault.”
She stared at me, eyes wide with bewilderment. I had stood up from the chair and slammed the table without thinking, throwing all of its contents to the floor. Recollecting my thoughts and gathering the items back into a pile, I sat back down beside her and bow down as a way of apology. She replied in silence, serving as a polite acceptance.
“It’s just…my father. He was always the strict one, always rushing towards me with- with a belt- at every action he deemed a nuisance. He would always lay me down on the bed my chest was familiar with, pull down my pants, and jus