I Know the Reason

I know the reason.

As a child it was always my place to sleep closest to the bedroom door.
I know the reason.

I remember watching the light under the door it would keep me up late so many nights. Light at night gives some form of stress. Will I see the light break tonight as he steps into my door way?
I know the reason.

At night I wake up when I hear footsteps. I remember listening for them as a child. Were they headed to the bathroom, the kitchen, or my bedroom?
I know the reason.

Hearing someone breathing on me at night especially if their nose whistles grates my nerves.
I know the reason.

Night never means rest, it means waiting. It means exhausting myself with tension, fear and feelings of impending doom until I fall asleep. That's how it's been most of my life.
I know the reason.

Falling asleep in my closet, under my bed, outside in the shed, anywhere but in bed, in the spot closest to the door was a crime.
I know the reason.

Hands with leather work gloves remind me of him and my blood boils.
I know the reason.

The feeling of his chest up against me from behind, as he would squeeze me until I was in so much pain and out of breath I'd collapse, brings tears to my eyes to remember.
I know the reason.