Fight or flight

I had another flashback last night. It's been so long and I was so unprepared. It hit like a ton of bricks. The fear and then shock and now that voice won't stop. That inky feeling is back. The one that makes my skin crawl and no amount of showers will wash it away. And so badly I needed someone here. To remind me that this is reality and the rest is just some distant memory. But that comfort won't come and I keep finding myself unable to hold back the tears. I try to speak and it's like my throat closes it on itself. "Don't make a sound Sarah" "let down your pretty hair for me Sarah" "do as I say Sarah and there will be no more scars". But there are scars. On my body. In my mind. On my heart. I can feel his hand on my throat, shutting off the ability to scream. Feel every touch like a burn seared into my memory. And I just want it to stop. I wanted him to stop and he never would. I want the voices to stop and they're overwhelming. I'm crying out and begging for mercy. For someone with a loving touch to hold me. For someone to remind me how to breathe rather than drowning in these memories. But that help won't come. Nobody will ever understand these needs. People only think of their own. And this lesson I should have learned so long ago. When it comes down to it this is my burden to bear and how stupid and naive was I to believe that maybe someday someone would be there. How child-like to believe someone could see the pain and misery behind the silence and tears in my eyes. They didn't back then, why would anyone now? So I'll force myself to breathe past the memories suffocating me. I'll force it down like the bile it is. And I know it's poison running through my veins. And maybe someday I'll find the cure.