He took my ability to sleep when he pulled me out of bed through the window by my ankle and dragged me into the woods. As a fully grown adult, I still cannot sleep next to a window on the first floor. I cannot sleep near an open window. I hug walls. I instinctively curl up into a fetal position, trying to keep my legs out of his reach. I still have the same nightmares I had then; the nightmares really happened. Sleep is when we are most vulnerable. He took advantage of that vulnerability. He took my sleep.
He took my security. He took away the concept that when you are in your family’s home in your own bed, you are safe. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere is safe. There is no place on earth that arm cannot reach, even if it only exists in my fears now. I never…
View original post 482 more words