It was like being pushed against the wall. The feeling of not being able to breath and constantly holding in the nausea. I can feel it. The taste was horrendous of this morning’s half eaten protein bar and orange juice. It was all I had in nearly 24 hours.

His embedded words scarred me once more. The continuous blows of how I was using my son as a weapon against him. Knowingly, he was incapacitated each time he threw a blow. I can smell the alcohol through the text message and visually see the slurring of words. In his eyes, a hurt ego meant more than just a few harsh words. It meant he was the victim. He pushed me till I felt numb. Degrading with derogatory words. “Aye hoe!” “What’s my son doing nigga?”

I felt smaller than the speck of dust floating around. No matter how much I fought back, it never even phased him. Not even touched him. He did not care. Not one little bit. To him. He was superior to others. He believed he was the best thing anyone could have in their life.

But in my eyes. He was my worst nightmare. My son’s worst fear. My greatest mistake in life. And now my son had to suffer. The embellishments of this narcissistic parent. What have I done…