When I was five years old, Warden used to tickle me on the bed. It got to the point where it felt like a torture. She would tickle me, so hard and so long that I cried beneath my involuntary laughs. She would say, ‘Say I beg for mercy, please’. This memory is very uncomfortable for me. I did not enjoy it. I followed what she said, I begged for mercy, for pardon. She stopped after another minute. I wanted to cry afterwards. Yet, she said, ‘ahahaha don’t cry, I was just joking’.
I know where she lives, but I cannot face her. Not anymore. I have not finished my healing process. I have some stuff at her place but I cannot bring myself to her place.
She finds enjoyment on torturing and abusing those who are close to her. It seems to be her hobby. She shows no mercy, no empathy. I learned empathy through sense of responsibility. I get used to not receive it. I get used to giving it.