Heavy Heavy Hangs Over Your Head
TW: Abuse
Nov 5 · 3 min read
“Heavy, heavy hangs over your head,” my father said in the sing-song voice we used for the game.
When I was five, I didn’t know he smelled like alcohol or sex.
His right hand was poised over my head, the left gripped the wheel of the Ford Ranger. I answered in the expected way.
“A feather?” I lisped over “th,” my mouth couldn’t contort to form the words correctly.
His hand fell on the top of my head and he put pressure on it for a few seconds. “Nope, a…

