"No one can make you feel worthless without your permission. Love yourself enough to walk away from those who hurt you, and embrace those who lift you."
Kiekie's POV
I was so excited.
For the first time in my life, I believed something good might happen.
I thought that when I showed my award to my parents, they would finally be proud of me.
Maybe they would smile.
Maybe they would say, "We are proud of you."
But that was only my imagination.
Instead, it made them hate and despise me even more.
Why couldn't they just love me?
What kind of parents hate their own child like this?
What kind of parents deny their child food and refuse to let them go for recess?
Had my parents made a deal with the devil himself?
I had been asking myself those same questions for the three years I had lived with them.
When I entered the house, Dad was sitting on the sofa watching his favorite basketball game.
The television light flickered across his face.
Mommy looked restless.
Her left foot tapped rapidly against the floor.
Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest.
She looked very angry.
I glanced at my phone.
9:15 PM.
My heart dropped.
Gosh… I am dead.
After the competition, we went out to celebrate.
We went to Hotel Africa Beach.
For a few hours, I felt like a normal teenager.
We laughed.
We ate chocolates, ice cream, and chicken pizza.
For once, life felt light.
Even though my parents abused me, I had never stayed out late before.
That was probably why my mother looked so restless when I walked in at 9:15 that night.
But then again…
Why did she even care?
She didn't love me.
She should have been enjoying her life instead of sitting there waiting for me as if I mattered.
"Bonsi—"
I didn't even finish greeting them.
Mom cut me off immediately.
It seemed like cutting me off had become their favorite habit.
"Enough, young lady!" she snapped.
"Your greetings are completely useless to us!"
Her voice was sharp enough to cut through the room.
"Isn't it enough that I gave birth to you? Why must you keep causing us trouble?"
Her eyes burned with hatred.
"I wish I had aborted that pregnancy!"
Her voice shook with rage.
"I wish I had left you in the hospital!"
"I wish… I wish we had never made you that day!"
"You are useless! A disgrace! Worthless!"
Her words fell on me like stones.
"You will always be worthless. Do you think this is your house? Do you think you can leave and return whenever you want?"
Her voice rose louder.
"Why did you participate in a competition without asking our permission?"
"What if your worthless self had lost?"
"You would have disgraced our family name!"
"You have caused us trouble since the day you were born."
Her breathing grew heavier.
"You forced me to undergo surgery."
Her voice trembled.
"After I gave birth to you, I was in a coma for three months!"
"You didn't stop there."
"At age three, you burned our house and our company to ashes."
Her voice turned cold.
"I hate you, Kiekie Inna Johnson."
"I hate you."
"I despise you."
"You have caused me nothing but pain. Seeing you every day reminds me of that pain."
Then she leaned closer and spat the words like poison.
"Above all…"
"I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN."
Before I could even react—
Dad stood up.
"How dare you come home late!"
The sound of his belt slicing through the air made my heart stop.
The first strike landed across my back.
Pain exploded through my body.
"Isn't it enough that we allow you to live under our roof?"
Another strike.
And another.
The belt snapped across my skin again and again.
Then he grabbed my shoulder and shoved me.
"You are completely worthless!"
His fist struck my side.
"You couldn't even follow one simple rule!"
He kicked me like I was nothing more than a ball.
"If you ever come home late again," he growled, "it will be worse than this."
Then his hand cracked across my face.
The force of the slap threw me to the floor.
My head slammed hard against the ground.
Stars exploded in my vision.
I was already weak from the beating.
When he finally stopped, my body felt numb.
My face and arms were already turning black and blue.
Dad threw the belt onto the floor and stormed out of the living room.
It was the first time he had ever physically beaten me.
I had once said no one deserved abuse.
In that moment…
I took those words back.
Through my blurry vision, I looked toward my sister.
She was sitting calmly on the sofa.
Watching everything.
She looked at me with disgust.
Then she smiled.
My pain amused her.
She stood up and followed our parents out of the room.
"Mo… Mom…"
My voice trembled.
"Dad…"
"I'm sorry."
"I'm so sorry."
Tears rolled down my face like the Cavalla River during the rainy season.
"I didn't mean to come home late."
"I didn't mean to come into your lives."
"I'm sorry for causing you so much pain."
My hands trembled as I clasped them together.
"I wish I could just die as punishment for making you suffer."
But they were already gone.
I was begging people who had already left the room.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered to the empty space.
"I'm sorry you had to go through surgery."
"I'm sorry you were in a coma."
"I'm sorry, Dad…"
"I'm sorry for destroying your company in Ivory Coast."
"I'm sorry for hurting your wife."
I cried that night until there were no tears left.
I cried because of everything Mom had said.
I cried because I believed I had caused them pain.
I cried for every child in the world who was suffering abuse like mine.
Maybe even worse.
I cried until my throat hurt.
Until my voice disappeared.
That night I realized something painful.
No matter what I did…
My parents would never love me.
They didn't believe in anything.
No religion.
No God.
No compassion.
They would never accept me.
They would never appreciate me.
And that realization hurt more than the beating.
Because the beating didn't break me.
Their words did.
It hurts.
It truly hurts.
To know that the people who are supposed to protect you…
Are the same people destroying you.
But that night, something inside me changed.
I wiped my tears.
I lifted my head.
And I made a promise to myself.
I will never beg anyone to love me again.
I will love myself.
Because I know God loves me.
And Cleo loves me.
My parents are not the people I should beg for love.
I can't stay here anymore.
If I do…
Their words will drive me insane.