Running into this on my morning coffee run. Walk right in front of me on the road. Had to slam on my brakes to let it pass. Morning is my best time to write. When the sun hasn't peek out yet. It is a challenge to write when my autistic son is in my face demanding coffee. We always share a cup or two. I write because I have a story to tell. We all have stories. The story I tell has been on my mind for a very long time. I share them with you. There is a story I need to share but I don't know if I can find the words.
It is an echo of her past. A taunting which lays hidden deep within her mind. She tries not to remember it. To pretend it is not there. But it is like a distant song, one which loops around and around. Taunting you, making you remember it. A past you refuse to visit. A past which you share with no one. How can you utter the words? These words are forbidden. To utter these words would mean you had accepted your fate. To utter these words would mean you have to admit the truth about him. The truth you hid for so many years. Hid them from everyone. The truth of what he did to you. How can you share what he did? It will only lead to madness.