Most people are afraid of the dark, I am afraid of the light. The thin sliver of light that blinds my eyes as my bedroom door creaks open. I treat it like a game of hide-and-go-seek. If I lay still enough, hold my breathe long enough, he won't come in. The light will shrink, leaving me alone with the relief of knowing that he wont come in that night, that i have another day to run away. But if i make a single move, take a quick breath, he will decide to come in. The light will grow engulfing my whole body.
It then turns into his own game. The knives that are his eyes will then carefully inspect me, making sure i am obeying our unspoken rules of his sick, sick game. I act as if i am asleep, the first rule.
He then walks to my bed. His hand grazes my leg. I don't flinch, rule number 2. If I break rule number 2 I am given a throbbing pain within my cheek, there to hurt me even on nights where I am left to the darkness.
He reminds me the 3rd rule with every thing he does. He reminds me to stay quiet. To pretend that his blinding light never interrupted my peaceful dark.
When he decides he is done, he leaves me humiliated and broken on my bed. Before he closes the door, he says a muffled apology. An apology for winning the game.