The Taming of the Beast

If I think of myself as a small girl I would never describe her as adventurous. I was often called shy and cautious. Perhaps I was perceived that way because I hid behind my mom’s skirt and my sister’s wit. 

Tucked away from view became my comfort zone, where I felt at ease, safe from the outer layers of a world unknown to me—a barren terrain I roamed in my imagination with frightening outcomes. If I dared venture outside I was sure a beast patiently awaited me. I knew of this beast because I saw him once. He was peeking outside my room at night, looking at me sleep. The low lights of the corridor shaped his silhouette standing on the corner of the door frame, perhaps crafting my nightmares while watching me dream. This same beast followed me as often as my shadow.

As I grew older and life pushed me outside the comforts of home and family, I happened to see him again. He would catch me off guard with his monstrous arms. I could hear the piercing sound his nails made when they clicked with each other. Was he savoring his victory as he hunted me? He robbed me of the freedom to be myself, leaving me depleted.

Healing from his wounds was never easy, the bleeding would stop but his sharp claws left scars that I can still see on my skin.

Yet to my surprise I kept exploring my world. To accomplish that, I had to shield myself, blending with what he did not understand, and therefore could not see. It took a long time to gather patches of courage here and there. Like walking through nature and gathering pine cones out of season, grabbing what was left by chance. Little by little I created an armor, and I was able to trick him.

With time, that survival mechanism fooled me into believing in my own strength, meaning I could build my own protection—an aura stronger than any trick. This made him move farther from me. I could still see him though, I was often scared he would run towards me unexpectedly. But he never has, yet he comes close when he smells the fear escaping my pores. But even then he doesn't seem as daring as he once did. Now, he seems farther away. I have to be honest: I wish I didn’t see him anymore, but he still lurks around. And sometimes I even think he is now the one afraid of me.