Story of The Broken Cycle

A campaign literary text regards abusive parenting

"Ano ang ginawa mo?! Bakit mo binasag 'yang mamahaling pinggan?" My mother exclaimed in a panicking and mad voice.

My eyes bulged out of fear, then I tried to voice out, "Mom, I didn't—" 

Unfortunately, before I could defend myself, a rough hand held my chin so tight that a flat thing hit my face.

"Sasagot ka pa?!" she furiously said, then slapped my cheeks with a dusty slipper.

"Wala ka na ngang ginagawang bata ka..." another hit.

"Naninira ka pa ng gamit!" For the last time, a hit with max force made my face numb.

After that, my mother left, and I saw her catching some air. 

Panicking, I rush to stand up. But to my surprise, I notice my whole body is shaking. I was shocked, yet I was used to this treatment. 

The next thing I did was see myself in front of a mirror. And there it is: scattered blood on my lips and cheeks.

When the numbness cooled down, a pang of pain was felt all over my face and even my body. Then tears escaped my eyes afterwards. 

Twenty-five years later, I was awakened by a loud drop of something fragile on the floor. My sight automatically turned to a little girl near the sofa where I slept.

I caught her picking up the pieces of broken glass.

I immediately went in her direction, and my heavy footsteps alerted her.

She stood up, panicking. "M-mom, I didn't—"

Before she could even say something, I held her hands.

"Baby, are you hurt? T-tell me where." My worried voice stunned her.

I suddenly hugged her tightly and lifted her away from where the broken glass was.

"Are you not mad, mommy?" She asked, sounding relieved.

"Why would I? I am more worried than anything else. Are you alright? Now, kiss mommy on her cheeks." Then my daughter gives my cheeks a quick kiss.

Although the trauma remains in my being, I am now a parent who doesn't want to let my child bear the same parenting as what my parents did.

I chose to break that kind of cycle.