“No, sir,” I say, getting angry with myself for forgetting. Again. Maybe I’ll never be a strong man. I can’t remember. I close my eyes and tick through all of the things that will make me a man. I want my mommy’s kiss. I can’t stop thinking about it.
“Lay down,” he yells. I flinch but pretend it is part of the motion of hitting the floor. I tuck my head on my hands and slam my eyes shut. Daddy leaves, but he’s still here. All over my skin. I sniffle once, and tears leak out onto the tile, my tile bed.
Mommy.
Mommy.
I want you.
Mommy.
Kisses.
Save me.