26th December

He washed me. He had real soap and a flannel and a bucket of warm water. I forgot what it was like to wash with warm water and soap. It might even have been perfect if He had let me clean myself, but no, He had to have the privilege of Bathing me Himself. ‘An honour’, He said. Honour my ass. It was disgusting and painful. He used lots of soap on my sores and it stung like flames. ‘Must clean out all those dirty girl spots’. Why couldn’t He just leave me dirty? It didn’t hurt before. Now it does. A lot. He wouldn’t let me get covered afterwards either, said I needed to breathe. I normally just use my mouth for that. All my sores are weeping now that the crust is gone and they stink too. I think I’m rotting. He paid special attention to my stomach, even talking to it like He was a regular Daddy. Telling it all about what a special person He was going to teach it to be, ‘Just like Mummy and Daddy are special’. I wanted to bash Him in the head but I saw the Demon sitting in the very edge of the light. It growled at me like it new what I was thinking and was warning me off. I’m going to kill them all, I swear it. I’m going to.