It started when I was six. In a sad attempt to keep the monsters out, I hid behind closed doors.
It never worked. Behind locked tight gates, my thoughts protected me. So I found solace in my mind, far away in places only my imagination could think up. My insanity kept me sane. It was when the footsteps could first be heard that I let my dreams take me away, when the door creaked open on its hinges, the gates of my palace of thoughts would slam shut. I was the queen of the butterflies, and the princess of bubbles; I ruled with constant grace. In my silly little sphere, I was forever in control.
By never allowing anyone else into my world I didn’t have to fear the beasts from my reality. Monstrous creatures with gnashing teeth and fierce snarls on faces like ogres feared me. The demons trembled in the presence of their queen, and I banished them into the darkest of places, for in my surreal creation they were completely and utterly insignificant.
So, in my world I hid. I would sit on my bed, frozen in thoughts as the sheets shifted, ghosting across my body, but I was so far gone that I could not feel their soft tickles. I thought, and dreamed, and hid. Even in the darkest of times, when the room was as stiff and silent as a prison, I found light in the world of my dreams. My cold hearted monsters could not find me in the bliss of my peaceful abyss. So I lay, perfectly still, on a bed that had become my prison, trying as I might to never make a sound, because maybe if I was not there the beast wouldn’t see me either… my method failed me miserably.
Even when I thought I was hidden away far enough—even when I lost my grip on reality itself, the demons still drove me mad. If I were able, I would have thrown them out on the street to suffer as I had. Poor little mad girl. What else could I do? Six years old, already facing the horrors of the world, forced to look demons straight in the eye without fear.
The kingdoms in my mind protected their queen with reckless abandon, and in their realms I was safe, safe from fear, safe from worry, and safe from the darkness that plagued the reality of nightfall. Royal knights and princes comforted me and held my hand as the beast repeatedly stole my innocence from me. I retreated into myself, not just for the nights, but for days as well; my world was my heaven, a constant source of undying and pure happiness, it gave me hope and love when it seemed like the nights would never end, it was my beautifully wonderful golden utopia.
When nightfall plagued my very existence, my strange little world took me up in its arms, soothing me like no one else could. The looming shadows would dance around me, mocking me with their every move, and the demons would lurk in the corners, waiting impatiently for me to break, but I would not waver. I was gone, lost in a better world, and the black of night could not touch me there. I was a runaway, a slave of the night, forced underground by the master of darkness.
I looked the devil in the eyes at the age of six.