The persistence of insult

“You whore, you dirty whore, I’m going to kill you and your mongrel bitch.”

1.50 am and the man next door is outside, shouting, by the front door, underneath my window. Maizy had been barking, probably at a fox in the garden. The man next door does not like it when Maizy barks.

“I’m going to cut your head off, you whore.”

Maizy was now, of course, barking furiously. At him.

He wasn’t thumping on the door, he wasn’t carrying a hammer and the children were not in the house. I opened the bedroom door and Maizy rocketed in, curled up on the bed and was silent. I went straight back to sleep. Sticks and stones, after all, may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.

Yeah, right.

My mother first started calling me a whore when I was about 12. It’s a term my step-mother has employed too, although not to my face. “That whore and her half-cast bastard.” Rather like the whore and her mongrel bitch.

As I slip down the sides of the black pit I wonder why I bother to loath myself when others have done it so efficiently, so consistently, for so long. But nobody can loath me better than myself.

Never underestimate the power of words.

9 Replies to “The persistence of insult”

  1. Oh, dear. It’s far too late to call the authorities on your mother, but I hope you’ve reported your neighbor. No one should have to face this kind of abuse from anyone, especially in their own house.

  2. Luckily, most of us eventually realize such words say much more about the person using them they the person they are berating.

    Of course, if the man had been yelling at my window I might have been tempted to let Skye out to bite him in the ass, not to mention pulling the bear gun down from the shelf and letting him know how much I disliked being woken in the middle of the night to have to listen to that kind of abuse.

    I’d like to think that I would have just called the dog and gone back to bed, though.

  3. No comfort that these things do come out of the other person’s self-hatred they just put on you. Your neighbour should, of course, be reported or whatever, but there’s always the fear of upping the anti… but it isn’t normal or acceptable, and you need confirmation of that.
    Give Maizy a big kiss from me and one for you too.

  4. The police already know about him. This was a relatively minor incident but the first after a long period of calm. Sigh.

  5. {{{Rachel}}}

    Horrible. It’s so strange, the power that words can have. Or the power of random malice, even when it’s known to be random.

    Thinking of you with so much love and admiration. Which is as unrandom as such can be. & hoping it can stand against some of that.

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