Somewhere in the night, I fell asleep crying. When I awoke the next day, I was alive. I thanked Him and thanked Him. Now, this is where I tend to get into trouble. Instead of keeping my mind on being alive, I started thinking about what “she” did. For the first time, I know that she either wanted me dead so she could go on with her life being beaten by a very cruel and mentally ill man, or she wanted me so terrified of her that I would bow to her feet.
I saw only those choices in her thinking. For all of my life, I would forever bow to my mother, but on my conditions. But for her to demand it by making me afraid—no. My God had kept me alive. I did not choke to death by choking. Which back then, if I had died, they wouldn’t have suspected my mother of involuntary manslaughter. Imagine that. To have some anger or caution would be perfectly normal, considering my mother listened and watched and did nothing to aid me or comfort me. Understanding all of this, I became a little hardened in my heart.
I let the anger fester and fester. I became sort of self-righteous instead of remaining grateful.
I did not plan to pay her back. I never had a desire to seek vengeance. However, I would soon learn how it feels to pay someone I loved dearly “back.”
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