I cannot remember a time when I was without bruises. I remember even before my dad started sneaking in my bed at night when he would come home drunk, he would get angry with me when I did not put away my toys correctly, or I left the butter out. Jillian never did anything about it; she would just tell me that I would have to me more careful.

The only person that knew the truth about the bruises was Bridget, and I imagine she told Ben, but he never said anything to me about them. If people asked about them, I would tell them that they came from falling out of a tree, or that I had been taking up karate classes to defend myself, which wouldn't have been a bad idea, though I doubt it would have changed much.

The bruises were from Kevin, when he got angry because I placed something in the wrong spot, or wasn't home when he wanted me to be, or sometimes when he just felt like it. He also gave me bruises when he would sneak into my bed if I was not in the position that he wanted me to be in. I learned after a while that if I asked him what he wanted that it would make the time with him go by faster and be less painful. I think I even avoided some bruises that way.

Since I had so many bruises, I hated going to the beach, but I dreamed of what it might be like to one day be free of all the shame spots. The bruises made me feel very self-conscious and ugly. The bruises felt like dirty patches that were a constant reminder of all the pain and the control that Kevin had over me. I cannot remember ever being clean.