Memory breaks its silence

A trigger that came from nowhere—no warning, no bang—just sudden, immense bleeding within. I couldn't understand what was happening until, like a haystack touched by flame, everything ignited at once.

I remembered it all.

Memories too heavy to be excavated from beneath the protective rubble my mind had constructed—memories so devastating that burying them was not choice but survival, a divine intervention of the psyche.

I stayed silent in that moment of terrible revelation, paradoxically relieved to finally understand why my body had always resented someone so viscerally; why certain presences filled me with inexplicable pain and disgust. My mind had simply protected me from what it could not process.

A soul once pure, now bearing invisible stains.

How is it possible to remember everything with such crystalline clarity?

Not just images, but feelings—the shame, the guilt, the pain, the rage—all preserved perfectly, like insects in amber.

All because of one trigger: a scene in a series that unlocked a lifetime of memories my consciousness had hidden from itself. Self-protection turned to self-revelation.
I try to scream, to run, to do anything—but I remain paralyzed. Trapped within the labyrinthine corridors of my own body—a territory too vast to navigate, yet somehow suffocating in its confinement.

Memory after memory rushed in, each one making perfect, terrible sense. My body had always known, had always rejected the abuser while my conscious mind relied only on the vague whispers of intuition.

My eyes fill with tears, wells about to overflow their banks. I feel again those initial feelings—forced to stand still, being scolded for not maintaining eye contact while naked. 

How could I have forgotten this? 

Tears stream down my face as humiliation courses through me, raw and intoxicating, like liquor replacing blood.
Then more memories flood in, each one worse than the last.
I sit still, quiet, wishing desperately I could speak to someone but finding no words, no voice, no bridge between this private hell and the ordinary world around me.