What's Summer to you?
I could answer that in a hundred different ways. But let me answer in the simplest way that I know.
When I was three, it was fun. I was free like a bird.
When I was five, it was magical. We ran up the hill, laughing until it felt like we could no longer breathe.
When I was seven, it was enchanting. We went to Disney World and I got to meet all the princesses. I wanted to be one.
When I was ten, it was dark. My mother would lock me in the closet as soon as Dad steps inside the same room. And I could hear glass shattering, muffled screaming and a few grunts here and there.
When I was thirteen, it was lonely. My father was home and I was in the closet once more. It was much more comfortable than before though. Mother must have rearranged it, somehow.
When I was fifteen, I made a friend while I was inside the closet. And she was sort of like me. She had a different hair color and talked different, somehow. Still, she made my occasional "stay" much more bearable.
When I was seventeen, it was horrible. My grandmother died.
When I was eighteen, it was terrifying. My mother died and I was left with nobody else but my father.
Your father was home each and every summer?
Usually. He's a soldier, you see. He comes home whenever he could. And that itself was a blessing.
Why were you locked up inside a closet?
Mother said it was to keep me safe.
To keep you safe?
Yes.
From what?
Who, is the right question.
What happened?
My mother died. It all went downhill since then.
What really happened?
I'd rather not talk about it.
Please. It would help a lot.
Help you how?
Not me, you.
Me? But I... I don't want to.
Just try to remember. Try telling me.
My father works in the military, right? So, he's barely home. What I said earlier, they were all true. I was always happier whenever my father was home. We went to different places and played a lot. Then mother said I was starting to grow, I was becoming a woman, I was becoming beautiful.
Then what?
She cut my hair, wrapped some kind of cloth around my torso very tightly. She said it was to make my breasts less visible. She only allowed me to greet father once. It was when I was ten. I never did afterwards. She just locked me up once my father steps foot inside the household.
Why?
She said it was this look that my father gave me after I hugged him. She said it wasn't right.
Oh...Could you tell me more?
I'd always hear these weird noises whenever I'm inside the closet.
