I cannot remember whether I have told you, but something triggered this memory today and it still haunts me and it's still there.
I was young, very young; young enough to be sharing with my sister before the two bedrooms became four.
Never could I sleep properly or soundly straight away as many thoughts would churn around my young head and feelings of guilt and not being good enough and never pleasing them would race and twist...
One night, it happened...in the darkness, striding in he stripped the sheets and pulled me out of my bed, dragging me out.
No words.
Nothing.
Just silent aggression: paternal style.
She was there in the background, saying nothing, doing nothing either as he ordered me, after the hard slapping, to climb onto a high stool that had been placed at the end of the long hall...just for me. Shivering, I did, guilty, so guilty I had not been a good girl again.
It was cold.
Pointing a finger at me, mouth opening...can no longer hear the words.
Darkness then and silence as doors were shut and all were in bed, except me.
I was too scared to move at first. I don't know how long I stayed there being judged by the heavy blackness all around.
Somehow I managed to clamber off without it tipping up and tiptoed back to bed.
Nothing said the next day. Nothing.
And life carried on for this confused little girl who still struggles with sleep ...
Who still struggles with the darkness.