Walking down the stairs I felt uneasy yet too young and naive to understand quite why we're going to do some exercises he said and I was strong so I wanted to try. we started with leg squats. "see if you can kick me off you" he said and with no hesitation I did so, I was remarkably strong for being only 5 . Then we moved to crunches, although, he laid on top of me. "now try to push me off you this way" he said and no matter how hard I tried he was too heavy my body began to hurt," try harder" he said then held down my arms as he grabbed me by the wrists, and I tried, I tried again, and by the third time he stated "this one's a fighter" as a bead of sweat fell off his face and onto mine, i started to cry, "get off me!" I shouted I really started to hurt, and then I turned my head to the right and stared down a hallway, there was a man there, translucent almost, he reached out to me, he said "come with me child you do not need to see this". I watched myself come out of me and grab his hand, then walk away, where?, I may never know. I don't know if I ever even returned to myself. The Next thing I can remember was walking back up the stairs alone, in pain. My mother sitting in a chair other side atop the staircase, she asked me what was wrong. I told her my pee pee hurt, still not understanding what had happened. The rest is blocked from me, like a fog, or a veil. Maybe im not meant to know maybe this all isn't meant to be said, but anytime I think of this it's the same this is exactly how it plays out in my head, I don't want to be a liar, I don't want to pretend worse or better things had happened, I feel incomplete still though, because I don't know the story from start to end, or what my corrupted childhood has caused me to pretend. All I can concur this far is that I am a fighter, a survivor, a fading scar....... the end.