She is still in there, little Nan, sobbing on the wet, damp, bedroom floor. He is asleep by now, not sure what his name is, soemtimes my mother calls him Whiskey, another time its Arthur Guinness. That smell still bothers me today, still creates a rage within. How do I get to her? How do I rescue her? Will she allow me, because she will never be forced again.
She is 7 years old, not tall enough yet to reach the window sill and look out at freedom. She cant leave, she cant stay, she cant go down or up, like a swing, so she goes within, to the only place she is safe. She can hide there and no one will ever find her.
Please let me in I cry, but she does not hear me, so I walk away, back to the neighborhood, called Adult Hood. I cant keep visiting her in that dark dreary depressing room. Why cant she look up, see its me, the one who loves her. Why cant she see I am trying to set her free...but she does not trust me.
I will wait for her til she is able to walk to the door and open it.
Then...we will be one again, me and little Nan.