Hiding from the Darkness

There was only one rule: don't open the door. Most men are never tempted at all, even fools fear to tread in that terrifying darkness.

I know whereof I speak. There are some lands and peoples, some faraway realms where few dare to explore. The protagonist in this little tale never has even though his life may be lost without it.

Like a social outcast he hides at home, the forbidden door always lurking at the edges of thought, wraithlike, a constant reminder of what hides in the darkness behind it.

He plays his music loud or turns the TV volume as high as it will go, surrendering himself to noise, anything to avoid the ominous and constant presence of the portal to the damnation of his past.

He doesn't sleep much at night for in his dreams the barrier between him and the forbidden room tends to break down. And when that moment comes that he hears his father's heavy tread slowly pounding up the stairs, he awakens in a cold sweat, his sleep ended for yet another night.

But there is no more logic in hiding from the darkness within his heart than when he hid his head as a child under the bed covers and believed that it made him safe.

And so eventually the night came when he was too exhausted to waken from the dream, his father entering and backhanding him with his heavy ring before bending him over the bed and yanking his pants to the floor. He muffled his tears as he heard his father remove his own wide belt before lashing him with it, again and again and again. Finally awakening, he prayed to God, please don't let me be like him anymore.

There was only one rule: don't open the door.