I've Been Bad

I watched silently as she bought a plate filled with what looked like manure to the table. I knew better than to ask what she was punishing me for, all I needed to know was that Ive been bad. As she slid the plate towards me a stench accompanied it, a stench I recognized from years of cleaning up after Sam.

Mother was feeding me the dog's excretions.

"Eat it...Now!” her voice boomed and I immediately grabbed the spoon. It was a reflex, especially after so many years of having my dinner snatched from in front of me, but this time it was different. Mother jerked the spoon from my hand violently. I looked up at her and saw the maniacal face I've gotten quite used to over the years. Soon I heard what I was expecting.

"Use your hands!” she smirked. I silently nodded, and watched as she smiled proudly at what she managed to think up while watching Jerry Springer. I had half a mind to tell her she could do better, because she can. After many years of her crazy so called "disciplining", this was not her best punishment. However, it just might make the top ten by the looks of it.

Soon she became impatient with me and did what I believe to have been her original plan. She grabbed the plate and squashed against my face. Luckily I managed to see it coming and firmly shut my eyes and mouth, held my breath, and prepared for impact. I felt the plate smash against my face, breaking my nose. I then felt the plate shatter into pieces and the first thing that went through my mind was that ' I just broke the plate; mother is going to punish me. Severely.'

I heard a gut wrenching scream come out of mother and the next thing I know I was being dragged out of my chair by my hair. After some years of this, I learned to lessen the pain by quickly getting on my feet and standing on my tip toes, however mother seemed to catch up, and began to pull my hair even higher.

She dragged me into the bathroom where the tub was already conveniently filled and dunked my face into the ice cold water. Even thought I was fully aware that she was trying to drown me, I took this opportunity to wash off the shit from my face and hair. Mother took notice of this and restrained my hands behind my back. All I could do was shake my head while in the water and hope most of it would fall off. Every time mother let me out to breather she would whisper that I've been a very bad boy and that I was being punished. I believed her.

I have been bad.