I was four or five years old at the time of this event. For those who don't know, a "boot" is the trunk of a car.

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I was in trouble, as usual. I can't recall what I had done wrong, but it's probably fairly irrelevant anyway, because I was pretty much always in trouble for one thing or another. Mostly I think the problem was simply that I existed. It seemed I was there for that particular purpose, as well. Certainly She had been known to have said that now that She had an adopted child, She had someone to 'take it all out on'. We were in the garage. There was a door that led into the house, and a rectangle of light streamed through there to illuminate the shadowy, white-washed walls surrounding us. I was crying, and terribly afraid, not knowing what was to come. She was there, of course, holding my upper arm painfully in her steely grip and ranting something at me. She opened the boot of the car, lifted me roughly and bodily threw me inside. I landed on my side. I felt thick plastic underneath me as I impacted. It crackled below my slight weight. I begged and pleaded, "No! Mum! No!" but to no avail. As the lid slammed shut, the darkness enfolded me, seemingly sneaking into my very pores. Not one iota of light was able to find me. It was like being blinded; I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face. There was a momentary pause as I took all this in, and then I filled with an absolute terror - one far greater than my fear of her and of the consequences of making a fuss. I frantically kicked and pushed at the top of the boot, sobbing, screaming and begging to be allowed out. I heard the garage door thunder closed. I increased my efforts, feverishly punching, scratching and kicking at the solid darkness above me. I desperately hoped that someone would hear me and come to let me out. I wished that perhaps She would relent, that She might realise that She had gone too far this time and remove me from this new and terrifying prison. I anticipated that maybe, just maybe, something would give above me, and I would be able to escape this terrible darkness. I continued to kick and push at the blackness above me for what seemed to be a very long time. After a while, my efforts became weaker and slowed, until I eventually stopped. I curled up in the foetal position on my bed of crackly plastic and continued to cry, quietly mewling in my dark little cave. Ultimately, energy spent, I drifted off to sleep, salt crusting on my cheeks. It was a welcome relief in a way, to succumb to a different, more comforting darkness.