I enclose myself in my room. My own safe place, I used to think. Now, it feels different.
No-one ever comes in here, not even Mum. I dust and hoover it myself, and I put my washing in the laundry bag, collecting the fresh things from the table in the hall where Mum leaves them for me. I even clean the windows, when asked. It’s my sanctum.
But no more. Someone has been here, I can tell. Some items are not where I left them, drawers aren’t closed properly, books and CDs are in a different order. There are no major changes, but it’s enough to let me know. My safe space has been violated.
For the last five years, or more, I’ve spent a large part of every day in here, alone, working on my studies, playing on my computer, or listening to music. I moved the computer to the lounge, so all the f
