TRIGGER WARNING. ED
I was crying so hard that the tears were pooling in my ears as she held my chin back. My eyes and nose streamed and meant I choked for breath around each new handful. I'd like to say she was methodical, orderly. But she was not. She had a surgical tray of containers and ripped heartfuls out of them at random. Pressing her hand down over my mouth so that mashed potato filled it and I had to swallow it to breathe. I gagged and writhed under her hands. She'd hold me down until my mouth was clear enough for oxygen and then, as I inhaled and coughed on a potato trying to get into my lungs, she'd press down a handful of something else.
It wasn't always like that. Sometimes she'd hold my nose and press my tongue down, tipping vodka directly over my tonsils. Sometimes she'd let me have little pauses to cry. Most of the time though she would go too fast, force too much into my small, convulsing throat, and I would vomit. My body rejecting her attack. It wasn't i