When she’s dissatisfied,

a river of guilt washes over me. My chest tightens, my stomach knots. I can’t eat.?I can’t speak. It feels better than the blows? that once lashed against my skin.? At least the hits explained? why I should feel hurt,? why I should be afraid. But her words—?they leave me frozen.?I want to explain,?I wish I could. ?But it’s like she always says:?“You never know, do you, Ameirah?”