Chapter 7 - Flashback

Whiskey.

I struggled to my feet and swallowed the whimper that nearly came out. No crying. Monsters don’t cry. One lashing for one tear. Growing up, I learned quickly not to cry. The scars on my back are a testament to my lesson. One tear, one lashing. My scars are years old now. No tears mean no lashings, so I let none fall. I limped to the small sink in the corner of my room and turned on the tap. As per usual, the water was freezing. I cupped my small hands under the stream to catch the water, then gently placed my face into the collected water. I ran my wet fingers over my beaten face, letting the moister wash away the blood. I cupped my hands again and washed more water over my face. I did this until the water that dripped from my face lost its red tinge.  <