Small, hairless. Defenseless? Was I scared, lonely, mad? Did I feel anything? Was this the first? Was this the last? Did it hurt? Feel good? Did I disassociate?
I don't know these things. It's only a flash, and this pisses me off.
Bathtub. Is this why, even now, I'm scared to bathe with people in the house? Is this why I hate bathrooms without locks? Is this why I won't let people touch me, why I blank out if someone must see me naked?
Fingers. I see them, but I have no clue how they felt, or if they felt. Or what I felt about them. Did I, even? Did I struggle? Cry? Protest? Respond at all?
Is this why at the age of six I cut myself in the groin to the point in bleeding?
Is this why I hate cunnilingus? Why I never masturbate? Were you sorry?
Father. Did this even happen? I struggle so hard to never think of you, so one would think this, of all memories, would be repressed. One would think my own memories would protect me. Why? When? Am I wrong, am I decieved by my own thoughts? Or do I remember clearly, with too much clarity perhaps? Did you make a mistake, not realize what you were doing? Did you slip, somehow?
Can I have no feelings about this?
Was it my fault?
If this doesn't make any sense, the first word/words before the first period in each paragraph is the actual part of the image. Words after that are thoughts concerning that part of the image.