I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

putting a hand to their mouths in shock.
I wanted to tell them that it was okay. That it was an accident. That
you cared about me and you only hurt mommy and me some of the
time.
That night you washed my hair and bandaged up my head. You
kissed me goodnight and said you would teach me and that it would
all be okay.
Though I didn’t cry when you turned off the light, I felt this intense
emptiness.
Mom and I were a quiet pair. The house itself had more to say to us
than we did to each other. I had no friends or siblings to talk to either.
I was lonely.
I wanted your kindness, and for that, I was willing to learn how to
catch. I was willing to pretend to be someone I am not to please you.
It worked for a while.
Your anger became scarce. There was the occasional frustrated
bout where you screamed at me or called me names or pushed me,
but you always caught yourself and apologized.
There was this one habit you had that exists in the cluster of bumps.
You’d grab me. Nothing else. You’d just grab my arm. You’d watch
your hand practically swallow it. Then, after a moment, you’d laugh,
let it go, ruffle my hair, and tell me I should eat more.
You liked seeing the fear in my eyes. You liked the momentary high it
gave you–
knowing that you could break the bone in two and there wouldn’t be
a thing I could do about it. You liked that no matter what I did, it was
all in your hands. You were the one who decided what was right and