I Don't Know How I Got that Bruise
by Maureen P
I don't know how I got that bruise. Doesn't that sound familiar? So many marks on my body were explained with a lie.
I didn't clean the house good enough, and a book was thrown at my face. The corner of the book hit me in the nose and broke my nose. My nose bled so much that I had to go to the hospital. He threatened me if I told what happened things would be worse when I got home. While the doctor was fixing and packing my nose, he asked how this really happened. I just said that we were playing, and a book was tossed and hit me in the face. The doctor looked at me and just walked out of the room. If he had only asked me and said there was help for abused women, I would have told him the truth.
I was crying inside. I felt people knew but chose not to get involved. I always wondered who was going to help me. No one ever did.
"The worst part of being strong is that no one ever asks you if you are ok."