It was a Thursday evening, nearing the end of the week.
I don’t remember why I was hit-
what I had done to cause your fit of rage.
I’d say – nothing much, if anything at all.
But that night, like many others, you told me I had to stay in my room.
“My room” I thought. “It has never been my room. You sneak in at night when you think
I’m asleep and lift the bottom of the duvet to have a peep. That shouldn’t happen in my room!”.
Friday morning came too quickly. The dread of the weekend to come, filling my head.
It was winter time, so I was guessing, it would be dark by 4, then – no light and no music. Nothing at all. I couldn’t take it any more.
I quietly opened the bathroom cabinet and reached for the nearest brown bottle; as if by fate, the bottle had your name on it. I swallowed the tablets, then went out of the door, empty bottle just left on the floor in what was supposed to be my ‘last’ act of defiance.
And then onto the school bus.