Professed a Liar; in pain

I have a deep need for you to feel the pain I have.
if you felt this pain you would understand what I’m asking for.

I am an abused child trying to communicate to my mother that I am in distress.

I point out my abusers but my mother does not believe me. my bruises are explained away as fables. I know my pain is real. I see the abusers first hand. I am stricken by their rods. I cry out. is my pain real? do i not bear these wounds? these wounds that now bleed? how can my blood be spilled if these villains be ghosts?

“They aren’t real,” she says; my scars in full view.
“but, you saw them strike me down! you watched them take from me. is this not harm?”
“You must have deserved it.”

my heart breaks.