With the end of the cable

you hit me. younger me:,, Do it!" One Hit, on my head, didn't hurt much. Another on my back, my pullover protected. I Held my hand over my face. Bad choice. The metal cut my hand like knife. It still hurts, while I write. ,, I want to you explain!" ,, why you discuss with me" Why do you Tell me how I should deal with things, why do you scream. Were cliches you said. But with scream I evoke your attention. But then I saw you come running. On the ground I laid still. And accepted my fate. I hate you I really do. With little things you do bigger, and leave a **** on my heart