Always Seven

“I am sure that you must remember the pools of blood on the floor after I killed him,” he snarled.

I watched in fear as his evil countenance seemed to mutate with a life of its own as his lips curled, ejecting a wad of sputum. “No, no, I don’t remember this at all. Please, I won’t tell anyone because I was sound asleep upstairs.” I cringed in my corner covered in the blood of our landlord. “Daddy, please, I didn’t see anything! I know it was just a nightmare.”

But Daddy took menacing steps towards me, holding the ax above his head. I could see that he was completely out of his mind as he laughed a wicked laugh. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend this was not happening. As he advanced, I heard a sloshing sound a few seconds before I felt his entire body weight on top of me. I felt my body to make sure I was still alive and was astounded to see my Daddy had the ax completely buried in his head. Apparently in his drunken stupor, he had slipped on the blood, landing on the ax with his head slightly to the side of me. I cried, as I attempted again and again to push the dead weight of his body off of me.

The next thing I knew was when the authorities pried him off of me, swooped me up and took me to the hospital. And that is where I am now, in a locked ward with other unfortunate human beings. “Please, don’t make me remember,” I beg the doctors. I must always remain seven years old in my safe little world away from the pain of the past. It is so quiet and peaceful in my small room that I can’t hear or see anything at all.