I lived in a vast darkness.
A fragile silence that even choked sobs could break.
But the black glass of quiet shattered,
When you battered the door.
Its hinges screamed,
Just as you did.
I cowered in the corner when I heard the bottle explode,
From where you threw it.

Then it was a blur.
Threats to give me a "real reason" to cry.
More glass smashed against the oak, before it collapsed onto the tile floor.

A sudden clarity filled me as I heard the click of a lock.
You had trapped me here.
The dark I had once longed to be in became a cage.

I screamed.
Begged.
Clawed the wood until my fingers bled and the paint peeled.
But you stomped away,
Leaving me in a suffocating blackness.

Time had passed differently then.
A day had become weeks,
But also a second.
Hunger consumed me and I was left to rot in my own filth.
The acrid smell from the bottles on the other side of the door burning my nose.

I don't know how long I was in there.
I don't know if I'll ever find out.
I don't know if I'll ever be the same again.

I still sleep with a light on,
And I still sleep with my room door open.
And I refuse to open the hall closet
That you put me in as a punishment,
For accidentally breaking a small vase.