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The Basement

The silence was cream-colored with streaks of red -

memories I tried to forget,

forgotten scenes that insisted on being remembered.

 

I was instantly frozen in my seat,

watching helplessly as the images started to drop in my mind.

So many pictures,

as if I had frames in which to put them

and a wall on which to hang them...

As if they were pictures I wanted to display.

 

I closed my eyes,

squeezing them tightly,

trying not to see what was now all around me.

 

Memories

falling like snow,

covering the ground,

growing

taller

and taller

and taller

until they were an embankment surrounding me,

almost as tall as I was.

 

Some of the pictures were blurs.

Some of the pictures were sharp.

 

I waited in the stillness,

wondering how anything could continue to be calm

with such disturbing images running free.

 

They were mine,

paid for in tears

and blood,

pictures of me and him.

 

Not roller skating.

Not lifting weights.

 

But he was using his hands...

Owning every inch of my body

when we were alone.

 

The memories flooded my mind.

My basement, green John Deere play tractor.

I loved riding it.

My cousin loved riding in the basement, too.

That dark green out of the corner of my eye -

freedom to ride away,

but I'd still be trapped in the basement

with him.

 

His basement, his Dymo labeler.

He loved labeling everything,

even me...

Vulnerable

Terrified

Violated

were his favorite labels.

 

His bed, new Dymo labeler

for him to show off,

showing me its capabilities,

like creating a new label:

****

Always a stickler for accuracy.

No labels that weren't correct.

 

As more memories floated down to

the top of the embankment,

I opened my eyes and looked up

at the sky

 

Bathed in light from a bright sun,

with spots of red.

My life...

 

Paid in full.

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Written by
Songbird0926
50 / F
Published
May 3
Lines·Words
65·313
Notes

Sometimes the price for our lives is incredibly high.

Tags
#memories#childhood#tears#blood#life#paidinfull
Permission

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