The images of my tears are occupying my mind as I write this entry.
Mrs. Warden did projection through pretending that she can read what I feel subconsciously. If I forget something, she said that I forget because I subconsciously think that it is not important. She boasts about her memorizing skills as if no one were better at memorizing than her. For her, everything needs to be perfect. God forbid I forget any details before my exam because she would shout and call me all sorts of names, pinch me, and say things to make me hate myself for existing.
After my tests, she would ask how they went. If I said that I doubt many of my answers, she would shout so loud that I would not be able to hear the words she said. There were times where she pinched me and threatened me to leave the car when I told her that I have doubts with half of my answers in one of my tests. Being honest became a ridiculous option to me for obvious reasons and lying became an only viable option. Yet, this did not serve me as well as I wanted. Lying postponed the abuse, not preventing it. As soon as the teacher shows her my results, if they were bad, she would pinch me, on the stomach and isolate me even more from things I like or socialization.
There were times where I cried uncontrollably, I think I was 6. I suffered a great deal from memorizing. I was stressed, I knew I was going to be abused, I cried until my stomach was turning. It is not school that I fear. I feared her evil, violent hands. I never feared subjects at school, even math. I feared the consequences, the abuse I must endure in the process of learning everything at school. She said that you must suffer before claiming victory. My arms were wounded and so was my heart.
She said that my grandfather expected me to be excelling at school and that she is protecting me from his wrath if I performed below his expectations. In reality, he never harmed me, in fact, I needed him to protect me from his daughter.