Trauma is weird when you barely remember it.

I hear footsteps in the hallway, but it could just be the wind. I see flashes; they’re blurry. (I’m not sure they’re real).

I can’t get into some of the rooms in my head, but I know shadows hide behind the doors. my body keeps score of a game I don’t recognize—some locks

aren’t meant to be picked. not knowing

is its own form of a haunting.