If I Close My Eyes

If I close my eyes, I’m in a different place, one filled with castles and princes, things that can come to save me. When I open them I’m still here, in the dark f my bedroom, listening for the footsteps.
My door is illuminated by the hallway lamp, the cracks revealing if someone is standing behind it. Right now no one is. I sit in my window sill, watching the moon become hidden by the swirly gray clouds. For a moment the only light being supplied is that from the door.
I curl inside my nightgown, wishing it could keep me locked safe and tight forever. But it can’t. The soft white cloth can’t protect me. Not from him.
I glance over to my bed. It still holds the depressions from my small body, calling me back into it’s false comfort. The warm thick blankets offer as much protection as my nightgown. In this room, the place I should feel most comforted, I feel the most alone.

My old doll lay in their baskets on the other side of my dark room, almost invisible. But I can feel there smiles. They’re mocking me. How is it that they can feel blameless and happy eternally? Why are there no sad dolls? Although I can’t see there permanent, gay, faces, I turn away from their resting place, utterly ashamed.
I hear a creaking on the stairs that lead ultimately to my door step. A frozen sweat takes over my body. I want to run and hide, yet feel myself glued in my place. The light at the bottom of my door is darkened. I dash to my closet, hiding behind my laundry basket, wishing the cold realty away.
“My little poppet? Where are you? Daddy’s come to play our game.”If I close my eyes this will all go away. Will it away. Dream it away. My eyes grow sore from squinting. When he doesn’t hear my answer, he calls again.
“Where’s my little darling? Don’t make Daddy sad. He want to play with his little poppet.”Poppet. Poppet. Puppet. “Come on now love. Daddy doesn’t want to be angry with his little darling.”
Despite my own will, I crawl out of my hiding place. He has a temper that is worse than his gentleness.