[Opening – whispered, childlike] How did it start? Why did it start? Just a child's question. No judgment. No fear. Just curiosity. Once upon a time... A long time ago. [Pause] The memories are fading. Every year, a little less color. The pain. The shame. The violence. ... The helplessness. That one didn't fade. [Music begins – sparse] I didn't understand it then. I still don't understand it now. But I understood the slap. The second it hit my face. I understood the kicks. The spit. Them. I understood that. [Gradually faster] I swallowed the pain. Swallowed the shame. I was ashamed that I couldn't fight back. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to do worse. I wanted to make them feel what they had made me feel. I wanted to become violent. ... But I wasn't. I couldn't. Powerless. Lost. Afraid. Alone. [Music suddenly drops] I was a child. [Long pause] And something inside me started getting smaller. Not all at once. A little every day. A little with every hit. A little with every silence. I became less. Less of myself. Less visible. Less alive. [Music builds] And nobody saw it. Or maybe they did. I don't know. I only know that with every hit, with every day, something lost its color. [First eruption – raw spoken voice] THE PAIN STAYED. THE SHAME STAYED. THE FEAR STAYED. THE HELPLESSNESS STAYED. ... BUT I BECAME LESS. [Silence] Sometimes I remember the anger. Sometimes I remember the fear. Sometimes I remember nothing. And sometimes I wonder if the things I remember are memories or just the shape of something that happened. [Music returns – darker] I wanted to hurt them. I need to say that. I wanted to. But wanting violence doesn't make you violent. I was angry. I was terrified. I was trapped. And I was a child. [Building] How did it start? Why did it start? I still don't know. Maybe I never will. But I know what it did. It taught me to disappear. To become smaller. To stay quiet. To make myself invisible. Because being seen could hurt. [Climax – voice breaking into furious speech] WITH EVERY HIT— WITH EVERY DAY— THE COLOR LEFT. NOT ALL AT ONCE. A LITTLE. A LITTLE. A LITTLE. UNTIL THERE WAS LESS OF ME TO SEE. [Everything cuts] [Whispered] The memories are fading. But the helplessness didn't. [Pause] I still don't know how it started. ... But I remember the color leaving. [Silence]
