It was, inside that old house, in the room, with the, magical bloodied key (like the one in Bluebeard???), where the memories of my rape were, kept, alive…
Since I was raped, by someone I’d, trusted dearly, I’d, started, going inside, this, forbidden room of our old house, and, started, lashing out, painting the walls, the floorboards, with my own, blood. The room was, covered in, my crimson blood then, and then, the blood, it’d, dried up, I’d felt, a bit better, and I’d, left the room as it was. Then, I’d, come back into it, and, started, bleeding out all over again, and, left it again, after the blood was, all, bled, out.
And inside that room, something happened, healing, I suppose, with each and every gnash I made on my self, I’d felt, somewhat, better, emotionally/psychologically, don’t know how that could be, ‘cuz, each and every time, I was, drenched, in my own, blood, and yeah, it’d looked, quite, painful!
The room where the memories of my rape were kept, alive, I refused, to throw the key to that particular room away, because, I’d, wanted to keep on, opening up the door again, and again, to those, awful memories that broke me, time, and time again.
Until one day, I’d, lost the key completely, and when I’d realized, that the key to that room of memories of my bloodied past was gone, I flew into a frenzy, started, turning my own house, upside down, trying to, recover the key that got lost, but in the end, to, no avail, until I’d finally, made myself believe, that I won’t, EVER have, the key back again.
I’d, left the thought of the key to my bleeding room being gone for god knows how long (I wasn’t actually counting, I’ll have you know that!), then, one day, when I went outside into the yard, to pick some fresh flowers from the garden, to put inside that vase on the breakfast table, there it is, lying, on the patch of green, by the flower garden patches of my, backyard.
Upon discovery of the key, I felt, disbelief, I bent down, ready, to pick it up, but then, something in me made me, hesitated: do I, really, want to, reclaim the memories of rape in that room back again? How can I, go through, all those moments of my past of getting raped all over again. But, I’d, needed to, find that final closure to my past, so, despite what my mind advised me (against picking the key up!), I’d, picked it up.
Then, later that evening, I went back, to my old house, and, stuck that key to the rape room, back into its, hole, that final room down the hallway of the second floor, and, for some reasons, the key won’t turn!
And there was, NO way to unlock, the house wasn’t mine no more (and your point being), besides, I’d broken, a dozen laws (i.e. breaking and entering, burglary, ‘cuz I wanted to find those memories of my rape inside that room, and, set it all, ablaze! Oh, and there’s, that ARSON charge, from me, setting that room full of memories of my rape on fire!). So I’d, dropped that thought, and, I walked away, and for some unknown reason, something became lighter inside of me, I got, that spring in my step, for the very first time in my life, and I can finally, breathe………………