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  • No more secrets, I've kept them too long. Not even for myself, really. No more covering the past, I will not protect you. To protect you is to carry the weight of shame. Alone.
    There are places in my body that creek, snap when I move. I am not old, but I am not young. The gift I give myself is No More Secrets for the time I have left on this earth.

    If I drive a certain way through my neighborhood, I can look to my right, and in the field, just under the sycamore I see myself lying on the ground, naked in the freshly cut grass. You have made me this way. You and your friend are holding me down, doing unimaginable things to me. I am a young girl naked, without even innocence left. I won't drive that way for years. It will be years before the smell of freshly cut grass doesn't make me nauseous. There will be more to come. I just don't know it yet.

    If I look deep into the woods, I see where you, again, one evening have drug from my backyard, by arm and hair, to a tree and have tied me to it. Taken my clothes off and tortured me with the threat of fire under my feet. There I will stay, until you decide to release me, at dinnertime. Because you are hungry. It will be years before I look deep into those woods again.

    It will be years before I leave my house, without someone close by. A rough and tumbly girl, who liked to play in her tree house, she doesn't play under the sky, near her apple tree anymore, but no one asks why. You have driven me into hiding.

    If I take a bath, still today, the blinds must be drawn and draped, for that I will be sure, because the rubbing of your ladder to the side of my window, is always present. I am never alone.

    Secrets I have kept, and kept well.

    The scales have fallen and the whitest, purest flesh is exposed. Now, for me and only for me, I will not keep your secrets anymore. They are not mine to bear and I am not afraid of you anymore. I have been waiting for almost 30 years to write this.
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