I feel necessitated to withdraw from the outside world, and shy from the temptable warmth of light it presents. I lather in ancestral pools of wretched despair and have become infected with terminal trepidation. I dare not invite the comfort of outside interference from my woeful conditions and risk a visitor to the surrounding bog of hexed and festered soil. It is my belief, that I should solely bear the penalty of my God-forsaken existence; Therefore, I am self-condemned to remain sequestered and unattended for the remainder of my life, without the hope or possibility of parole. It is my strongest desire, to not have suffered this objectionable life for naught, and someone will unearth the keys to their prison gates, buried amongst the remains of my decimated soul. To die forlorn in isolation, so others may live free, and without further infection from exposure to my disease, is the only hope for redemption, of which I can conceive.

I’m in a dark place in my mind. You’d do best, to keep your distance, so I don’t lash out, and wound you. I feel, an overwhelming desire do bad things, I would never intend, when I’m not so upset. I don’t want to hurt you - I never would; My personal history, indicates I will.

I’m not strong enough, to control the rage, which often swells violently within me. I’m sometimes dangerous, and I’m always immeasurably sorry. I chose to confessed this to you, with the hope, you will still love me - but, with caution. Because I am a victim of the consequences, resultant of horrific deeds, which were done to me, it doesn’t mean I am unlovable. It simply means, we both must be vigilantly watchful, and careful about how we approach and react to my demons. I know, If I can openly discuss how angry and resentful I sometimes become, without fear of your rebuke, I can strengthen my ability to control the rage which dwells within the darkest recesses of my mind.

Forcing me to hide in silence, and shame, puts us in danger.

Turning me away from your love, and compassion, fuels the darkness within.

Allowing yourself to become my victim, demonstrates your lack of love for me, as well as yourself.

Are you strong enough to love in the face of truth?

The truth doesn’t have to hurt so much.

I've heard home is where the heart is-

Now I know it to be a truth.

I've been left bereft of refuge,

Because you took my heart with you.

My mind has become uneasy;

I sense a death is near.

I begged, I cried, and I pleaded;

He grabbed another beer.

Somewhere in the hollow hall, I smell him. His stink never fails to alert me to his presence. I’m older... a whole year ... since I last vomited, from twonderedlike sweat he dripped into my mouth as he hovered over me. I watched two beads swell from his temples. They plumped, further than any sweet beads I had ever seen, before each succumbed to gravity’s pull. I couldn’t hear the vulgar words he was grunting out, as long as I remained focused on the falling sweat. I wished they were his tears. I wished he would suffer endless nightmares, where demons and monsters of every breed would make him feel the terror, the fear, and the shame he burdens on me.

So far, it was a tie. Both beads were traveling neck and neck, down his cheeks. I gaged. I made no effort to hide my disgust, and I allowed my body to react without remorse. I gaged again, and tasted bile. Suddenly, I was struck with the urge to spit it in his face. I don’t know why I didn’t. Instead, I swallowed it down; and then, I heard the - now too familiar - voice, for the first time.

“ That’s right bitch, eat your vomit. You’re so fucking pathetic! You earned this shit by being so fucking chicken shit! Fight back!!!”

I couldn't. I just laid there frozen, and replayed the voice in my head. I wondered if it was my own. I didn’t know….I still don’t.