I Keep It Hidden In My Closet (where no one will find it)

There is a body in my closet. I keep it hidden amongst the piles and mess of unwanted things. It takes up space in my mind with its echoing sobs and wails ricocheting off the walls, and I'm the only one it keeps up at night. No one else can here it drag its claws down the door and whine like a dog trapped outside in the downpour. I play music in hopes of drowning it out; it provides temporary relief.

I fear it will one day break down the door as it throws its body against it; it trembles in its wooden frame. Once free, it's misery will consume all that it touches, distractions would be nothing but obstacles that no longer will soothe it outside of containment.

The body has been there since I was thirteen, and it's ghost will follow me wherever I go, whenever I leave this town that holds me. It is hidden because I can imagine what people would say if I told them and asked for help. And I don't need help, I can do everything on my own, and all it needs is a firm shove back if the door cracks open a sliver, and it's fingers reach out for flesh.

I tore this monster out of me at thirteen when the psychologist told me to stop deflecting, and then made my problems seem small. I won't let it see the light of day because it can't hurt me if it's locked away.

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A piece of writing based on the prompt (by sammie.jpg333 on instagram) that is the title. It is a piece based on my younger years, and this came to mind when I saw the prompt! I think it's nice to write about then sometimes, it reminds me of how much I have grown and healed.