Anger release
A couple of months after I confronted my abuser, I returned to that place full of painful memories. It was the first time in years that I had entered the evil house where so many abusive acts had taken place.
As I entered through the rotting, wooden door, an intense heaviness came over me. I could hear a television blaring in the house next door; I knew that it was my abuser viewing it. I felt a sudden burst of adrenaline as I pulled out the posters I had prepared bearing his face and a single word- ‘paedophile.’ I stuck them in various places including some very poignant ones, like a mattress- signifying the place I had been taken advantage of so many times. A calendar- because it was something he would use to lure me there. As I left the house, I felt the heaviness release from within and when I emerged into the wintry air, I cried and my tears melted into the deep snow.
Last summer, four years after the initial confrontation, I returned there once more. Although I had gone back there before, I felt I had a lot of pent up anger I needed to release.
Inside the old, decrepit house was a small room built within a large room, the walls were constructed from bright orange bricks- it certainly stood out from the room it was built in, with its crumbling, grey stone walls. The room was purpose-built by the abuser and had a door with a lock on it, so that he could do his evil deeds in private. The door had a big pane of glass in the middle and ironically, there was a hammer next to the door. I couldn’t resist, so I took it in my hands and smashed the glass to smithereens. I then entered that evil room and felt heavy memories flying around me. The bed frame that had been used so many times for abuse was still there. I lifted it up with all my might and flipped it upside down. An old desk covered in porn, that he would show innocent children, infuriated me; in anger; I swept them off with a broom and then with all my strength tossed the desk halfway across the room. As I was destroying other things that came within my reach, I stumbled upon a big container full of boxes of matches, I was tempted to set alight to that atrocity but decided against it. Burning down that house may have given me a tiny bit of satisfaction but it would never have burnt away the memories.
I’m not a vandal, but he vandalized me as a child so my actions were miniscule compared to the damage he caused to so many innocent lives.
As I entered through the rotting, wooden door, an intense heaviness came over me. I could hear a television blaring in the house next door; I knew that it was my abuser viewing it. I felt a sudden burst of adrenaline as I pulled out the posters I had prepared bearing his face and a single word- ‘paedophile.’ I stuck them in various places including some very poignant ones, like a mattress- signifying the place I had been taken advantage of so many times. A calendar- because it was something he would use to lure me there. As I left the house, I felt the heaviness release from within and when I emerged into the wintry air, I cried and my tears melted into the deep snow.
Last summer, four years after the initial confrontation, I returned there once more. Although I had gone back there before, I felt I had a lot of pent up anger I needed to release.
Inside the old, decrepit house was a small room built within a large room, the walls were constructed from bright orange bricks- it certainly stood out from the room it was built in, with its crumbling, grey stone walls. The room was purpose-built by the abuser and had a door with a lock on it, so that he could do his evil deeds in private. The door had a big pane of glass in the middle and ironically, there was a hammer next to the door. I couldn’t resist, so I took it in my hands and smashed the glass to smithereens. I then entered that evil room and felt heavy memories flying around me. The bed frame that had been used so many times for abuse was still there. I lifted it up with all my might and flipped it upside down. An old desk covered in porn, that he would show innocent children, infuriated me; in anger; I swept them off with a broom and then with all my strength tossed the desk halfway across the room. As I was destroying other things that came within my reach, I stumbled upon a big container full of boxes of matches, I was tempted to set alight to that atrocity but decided against it. Burning down that house may have given me a tiny bit of satisfaction but it would never have burnt away the memories.
I’m not a vandal, but he vandalized me as a child so my actions were miniscule compared to the damage he caused to so many innocent lives.
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