The Verb'd Project; Abuse

It's been a while, but I've been working on a couple new 'project' idea, and this happens to be one I took an interest in. This is both a project and an exercise, so let me quickly give you the schematics so we're all on the same page.
This is the Verb'd Project, where I will have entries covering each letter of the English alphabet using a verb that begins with that letter. What follows will be detail depicting a situation where that verb is being used. The whole point of this project is the description; my exercise is becoming more detailed in how I describe events, people, or situations.

So, grab your hats and hold on tight!

I am trembling, my hands fisting and stretching wide, muscles seeking relief that I cannot provide. I keep my head down, eyes fixed on the stained and filthy carpet that lines the cramped apartment floors. I can hear the words, the cutting tongue lashing me with harsh words I try my hardest to ignore. A heavy, constricting pressure around my chest and throat, pressing from the inside outward. Calloused hands grip my stringy, greasy hair, forcing my neck back to meet the hot, angry brown eyes of the one I care most for in the world.

“Are you ignoring me?!”

“No,” I answer, my voice lacking any sort of conviction or feeling. It doesn’t matter if I was listening or not, I know every single word that had been said to me. I’ve heard it many times over the past decade, have it ingrained on my heart, my soul, my flesh, my mind.

“I’m a failure, I cannot do anything right, I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve to live. I’m a waste of space,” I recite, the words a dull, soothing balm on the burning I feel inside. Remembering these simple truths helps me get through the day, stops the pain of reality breaking in on my perfect little delusion. Cracked, rough fingers slide over my cheek gently, chapped lips pressing against the dry skin.

“I love you,” I hear her say. I let a tear fall, the moisture never making it to the floor as a damp, wet tongue follows the trail back up to my eye.

“I own you,” she keeps saying, I nod in return. It’s true; she owns me. I am hers. I will always be hers. I never wish for anything else, for no one can keep me safe like she does.

“I am you,” she whispers mockingly, and I force myself to look in her face, to see the features that mimic my own. She is me, she is me in every aspect, the parts of me that I will never have, the perfection I will never be. I don’t desire to be her, though why she would want to be me I will never understand.

“Now come,” she demands, rising from the chair. I let her pull me to my feet, our hands clasped tightly as we leave our room. Mother will be waiting for us, waiting for her perfect dolls to be put on display for her guests.

The only mistake she is making is that I’m not perfect. My perfection is in my sister, she has it all. I’m just a broken doll, a mere shadow to Sadie’s perfect light. I’m happy here. I’m happy in the dark, in the shadow of my twin.

Another drop of salty water falls down my cheek, and I can’t understand why.

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