I was eight years old when I first learned how to be still. This was not for a game or for hide-and-seek. I had to be because making noise after 10 p.m. Could make things worse at my house.

My father had a temper. His moods would take over the house. When he was angry everything changed. My mother would speak softly. The television would be turned down low. Even the sound of the ceiling fan would be too loud. I learned to recognize the sound of his keys in the door. This was like a warning sign for me.

One night I made a mistake. I forgot to lock the back gate after playing. My father found out. He was very angry. He took me outside in the dark to teach me a lesson. I remember the concrete under my feet. I remember the neighbors turning on their lights. I begged him not to shout at me. I did not want him to shout because it was humiliating.

That was the night I wished I could disappear.

After that my fathers punishments changed. He would not speak to me for days. He would compare me to kids. He would tell me I was weak and useless. He would say I was too sensitive. He did not have to hit me. His words were enough to hurt me. Eventually I started to believe what he said about me.

The strange thing is that nobody outside our house believed me. My father did a lot of things. He donated to charities. Helped our relatives. He even gave speeches about discipline and good parenting. People admired him. They would say, “You are lucky to have a father like him.” I learned to smile and pretend everything was okay.

When I was twelve years old I started locking my bedroom door at night. I would push a chair against the door to feel safe. My father never tried to come into my room.. I was still afraid of him. Fear does not need a reason. It just needs a memory. Now I have trouble sleeping if my door is not locked.

My father is older now. He is not as loud or as angry. He is even quieter because of his illness. Sometimes he calls me “beta” in a voice. It sounds like he regrets what he did. This makes me feel guilty, for being afraid of him.

I have never told anyone this: I do not hate my father. I hate what he turned me into. I am an adult who gets scared of laughter. I apologize before I speak. I feel panicked when someone says, “We need to talk.”

People say that your childhood makes you stronger.. Sometimes it just teaches you how to hide your feelings.