The Unknown Terror (Trigger Warning)

I don’t know that this post will ever see the light of day. I can’t tell you what it is about. I have secrets after all. There are a few things I don’t write about here on Textual Fury, and yet since my life is an open book here that seems at odds with the reality of who I am. Some of these things aren’t posted because they are too scary for me. Some because I don’t have the words. Others, because if I post them I am painting a big target on my head for hate crime.

There is a moment in time that is haunting me. All of the things I have shared with you here I can handle. I handle them just fine. This moment is one where I can’t break it down. My brain doesn’t have all the information, and it doesn’t want it. I don’t want to know. I do want to know. I need to know.

This great unknown has haunted me since I was small. The images and memories around it are reminders to never talk about it. My father looming over me, telling me to hush. Telling me I will go to jail for life if I tell anyone. My terror. The nightmare I prayed was just a dream. It never was. This nightmare is the source of a lot of pain. Institution time. Self mutilation. Self hate. This nightmare, this nagging doubt that it was just a dream is the reason I tried to kill myself that first time.

It’s the reason for a lot of the self inflicted ills. It’s the reason I stopped fighting to believe myself and started going along with the lies of normalacy. It is also one of those life altering moments. She who was, that first me, she broke the first time then. You see this encapsulates the moment that innocence was lost to me.

I want to talk about it but now, I am having to talk about it with people who can do something. I think my brain, as damaged as it is, holds the answers to someone ELSE’s suffering. My brain holds the keys to someone else’s closure. I feel guilty that I can’t fit it together.

I can’t control my access to the memory yet. It’s fresh. It’s like an abcess that goes down to my soul, rotting away at my self identity, self confidence, and my ability to feel as if I am worthy of making a difference. It’s effecting my sleep, which I just got under control. It has always been there. The great nothing. The great terror. It’s lurked, since it occured.

Hallucenations I was told I had, turned out to be memories. PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder can at times over lay past events on the current. The sensation of blood on my hands. The emotions involved in this memory. I can tap them at any time, but there is no context. Or… there hasn’t been.

The memory is like a damaged film reel. It melts if I try and grasp it, but when I cannot handle the details they come pouring out. I want to warn my family that I am about to bring a shit storm into their lives. I want to. I don’t think I can. What if they don’t believe me again? What if they see that I am vulnerable? This memory and any dealings I have are a straight shot to the most vulnerable part of my core, of my psyche. Every time I check the email account set up for contacting those who I must I shake.

I tremble.

I cry.

I feel like it is happening, and more information comes each time.

What if I go to jail for not remembering? Can I? Maybe? I don’t know. To get those answers I would have to say something about what it is.

I have done countless difficult things in my life, but each time I take a step forward onto the cracked glass cieling of my life, I wonder if this word, this moment is when it will shatter. I do have things to lose. I do have a life. Am I throwing it away because of a nightmare? What if it really is just a nightmare? I can’t turn off the doubts. I can’t turn off the pain. I can’t let it go.

I have to do something. The something may destroy me. If I don’t do anything, however, I will always have blood on my hands.


  1. I don’t know what to say…
    I just wanted to comment to tell you I read it, I don’t know what to say, what would be good or reassuring to say, so whatever would be the good words to say, makes like if I had said it.
    I know if there is a right thing to do you will find it and do it, but I’m sure it doesn’t have to destroy you.
    You have not to be destroyed.
    I don’t know what to add…
    I read your words on this post and other about your life, it was difficult, but it was important to read it.
    I want to help, to say something good, but I don’t know what.

  2. Would it be helpful to talk to an attorney who can provide some reassurances to you, maybe at a victims’ resource center or rape crisis center? You don’t have to take their suggestions if they’re not right for you, but they may be able to give you some help or information based on their experiences with previous clients–so that you don’t have to guess what would happen. I hope you don’t have to make decisions alone and without advise if you need it. While I don’t know the specifics of your situation, my heart goes out to you, as I’ve also had PTSD from abuse and dissociated from it for a while.

  3. As a law student, I can tell you that there are VERY limited circumstances under which you can get in trouble for not reporting things you witnessed but were not a party to.

    1) If someone you were legally responsible for (ie, your child, your student, your spouse) was harmed or killed because of your inaction (when you could act without danger to yourself – if acting would cause similar danger to yourself, you are not responsible for not acting)

    2) If you caused the person to not recieve care that could have prevented harm or death by moving them to a place where they could not be seen and aided (ie, if you move someone who is drugged or badly injured into your house but do not call for any medical help, you can be responsible for harm caused by that lack of medical care)

    3) If you deliberately withheld evidence of something, especially if you were asked during the course of an investigation.

    I know there are a few more circumstances, but they all look like that – which is to say, if you witnessed this as a small child, I cannot come up with a circumstance under which you could get into legal trouble for not saying something before now. Particularly if you’re dealing with a repressed or semi-repressed memory, which it sounds like is the case.

    Remember to take care of yourself, no matter how much this is burning at you. You do not do the world good if you cause yourself great harm in the hopes of aiding someone else.


  4. Thank you. Actually the detectives told me all of this as well which was a big help. If anything I feel better since talking about this and doing something. The nightmares about this incident stopped.

  5. Thank you. There isn’t always something that can be said in response to the things I write, but I appreciate knowing that people read them. I try very hard to not be destroyed though at times it seems as if that is the end goal of either bad people or just bad moments.

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