I remember being 3 or 4, at home with my mom during the day...she was a great mom, but very distracted and obviously obsessed with trying to keep my alcoholic father happy so that he wouldn't verbally/emotionally abuse her or cheat on her (again). I remember the mood would shift abruptly when dad got home...we all walked on eggshells and on our very best behavior.
I was
terrified of the dark. My dad knew this. He locked me in a dark room and held the door closed (as punishment for some horrible misdeed, I'm sure). I had to be very young -- I couldn't even reach the light switch. I just remember that it seemed like forever as I was wailing and pounding on the door--screaming at the top of my lungs and I couldn't breathe I was crying so hard. I was deathly afraid. I distinctly remember being so
very confused & heartbroken that my mother didn't come rescue me.
I remember that night like it was yesterday.
He died when I was 8.