My Mother Killed Me to Keep Her House Clean

My blood stained the freshly mopped floor again.

My mother's scream came before my whimper.

"Lily! How many times have I told you? Don't scratch! Don't let those disgusting fluids get everywhere!"

She pointed the Lysol spray at me, treating me like I was some biohazard.

I curled up on the floor in pain, sobbing softly.

"Mom, it itches... I can't help it..."

"If you can't help it, get the hell out!"

To keep her from getting mad, I hid all the creams the doctor prescribed.

Those greasy ointments would stain the sheets, and that would drive her crazy.

Today was my seventh birthday.