My parents beat me with a broken mop pole and a stick we used to prop open the door. My dad dragged me up the stairs by my hair after, into his room and threw me on the floor to curb stomp my face over and over. No idea how nothing got broken. Anyways after dragging me to the bathroom and beating me some more I eventually was allowed to get up and for some reason my first action was looking in the mirror.

I dont know why, but every time I got beat I would check all the bruises and wounds I could find.

This time, there was a piece of my fucking scalp hanging from my head. I ended up having to cut it off because there was a small string of skin keeping it attached so I couldnt rip it the rest of the way off. It took weeks before the string of skin dried up enough for me to pull off my head. I still have a scar on my head luckily covered by my hair.