Little demon

The exquisite pain of a grief captured inside the ribcage, as a child becoming an adult, it grows with the host, an animal in a small space.

Sneaking into the front room to pick up one of the babies, mum stampeding in, burning white hot. Then I knew I was not to be trusted to hold the babies, to love them, to keep them safe.

Baby basket, white lace and a tranquil room, twins newly minted. Unsplit silence, something for her new husband to love. my brother and I were not to be loved, I could only conform and curry favour, gain praise for being good, but that spluttering flame of anger and fury would come from nowhere when I was bad or was wrongfully accused of wrongdoing. She saw an evil in me who would perform acts of mischief and spite without my knowledge, a demon shadow. It stoked up an anger, an outrage at being so condemned.

I’ve felt the loss over and over, the pain, the inadequacy, the clandestine visits at their grandparents house and the knowledge that I was only causing trouble by turning up there, an imposter in an innocent world which didn’t want me; my heart, as it was, filled with darkness.