“You’ll always be beautiful” Momma said when we talked on the phone. How she knew that, I don’t know, for she hadn’t seen me for a while. She didn’t see the bruises that distorted my face where he’d hit me.
“You’re so clever” she said. How could I be clever when I stayed with him after he broke another promise not to hit me again? I wish I had her belief in me, so I can break free. I wish I had the courage to stop this once and for all.
“I love you” she said.
“I know, Momma, I know. I love you too. It’s all good.” I whisper back.
That’s the hardest thing to bear when I end the call and drag myself back into the house where it starts all over again.
That I have to pretend that all is well with me, when really it’s not.
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