Eight-year-olds are absolute shit at hide and seek

They always hide in the same one or two places

And then wonder how you found them

Except if they’re in danger

Except if they were me

 

In my terrifying house

With my terrifying brother

And my terrifying step-dad

Tiny, very not-so-terrifying me

Had a hiding spot

 

Closets were a game changer

 

I had the obvious one

My bedroom closet

I used this one

If I knew I wasn’t in

That much trouble

 

They could find me easily

But that was the point

Lure them into

The safety of routine

Like they had done for me

 

Then I had the closet

Under the stairs

Full of Christmas decorations

And other things they tossed aside

I fit in there

 

Of course, they would check

My bedroom closet first

I always hid there, right?

I wasn’t the kind of girl

Who put up a fight

 

Eventually, though, they’d find me

It wouldn’t last forever

But it was never meant to

I used this spot when

I needed time to be brave

 

But then I had the hall closet

Less than 2 feet deep

Lined with shelves

No one ever looked there

They thought I wouldn’t fit

 

If someone did open the door

They’d look below the shelves

On the floor

As if it was the only place

I deserved to be

 

But I was small, and smart,

And scared, and in danger

And 8-year-old me

Could fit into some

Very small spaces

 

So I would not hide on the floor

Not where they might think to look

I would suck it in

And scrape my skin

And I would make myself fit

 

I would hide on the top shelf

In the tiny linen closet

They didn’t realize there was

Over a foot of space up there

If you could just fit in the space

 

Between the doorframe and the shelf

It couldn’t have been more than 8 inches tall

I’d have bruises on my ribs

And no one would find me

Till morning