Before any of this, I didn't cringe at the mention of spoons or shudder when one got within proximity of me. Before this, I never refused to use the utensil, sobbing at the sight of the cold metal reminder. I didn't have as much as an aversion to spoons before any of this-
I liked spoons as much as any other normal person did.
Just an object to eat soup and yogurt with.
But that was just before any of this.
I mask the true reason I am phobic of something that can't hurt me- but in a way did.
You are the first person I've told- not the boys, not anyone.
I'm confiding in you, and up until now the fear and guilt and anger has been eating me like a parasite from the inside out.
Gnawing, tearing, ripping.
And the only way to release the chilling shadow of a horrific memory that makes its home inside of my soul, is to explain what happened to you.
first chapter! please tell me what you think!