Page 12 - confessions1

The beatings became a part of my life even after Selima left for

the streets, but I began to get bigger and stronger. I reached a point

where I could just take the beatings. She would try and up her game by

using broom sticks and other foreign objects, but I was just too hard. I

didn't even cry any more. She told me, "All that evil in you won't allow

you to even cry!" And then she would continue to beat me. Yes, I would

have lumps and bruises, but I couldn't feel pain any more... not

physically or emotionally. I was being primed for the next part of life on

the streets.

One day when I got home I was met with a tandem of beatings.

Both she and her husband beat me at the same time for coming home

from school late. It was the first of many times I would be beat with a

Louisville slugger. Still no tears. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

They couldn't break me, the same attitude I took in the kitchen when I

first started cooking. The kitchen couldn't break me, no matter how

hard the task!

I stayed around to endure those beatings for a couple more years.

The last one I received was at the top of the steps in that house. It

started downstairs with her thinking she could now put her actual

hands on me. I was beyond exhausted of the beatings by this point. I

couldn't take it anymore. Every man has his breaking point and I was at

mine. She reached to grab me and I knocked her fat ass right to the

floor. (Insert applause here, I know you have been waiting for this even

though you might not admit it!) By this point I was ready for war. I