My Safe-room
The situation took weeks before it was finally ended. My parents promised me I would never have to go back. But I was not comforted. I created a different world in my head to live in. In this world I was a master at martial arts. Nobody could ever touch me or say hurtfull things to me. They feared me. I didn't fear them. At least not in my head...
I packed all these bad memories into a lockbox and threw away the key, then locked myself into a different room. Nobody could come into it, they could look at the door from the other side, but I would never open the door, and they were locked out. I thought this would stop people from hurting me, and perhaps it did to some degree. But when I entered this room, I took my fear with me.
I thought he would leave, be chased away by the safety of my room. But he thrived. I pushed him into a corner, trying to keep him away, but he only grew. He blackmails me, telling me that if I even think about what lies beyond that door, he will let my memories back into the room. The hurt would return with the memories, because the two were inseperatable.
Now I have a choice; do I sit here and let him win, or kick him out? The answer may seem obvious, but if I kick him out, I have to open the door. If the door opens, my memories come flooding back in, the pain following. People will see me, they can hurt me...