Braveheart

Everyone has at one time had a terrible experience in their childhoods. Some people fall apart, others block it out, and the rest cope. I was one of those weird little children that created people inside my head to help me cope and live through the days.
When you're eight years old, anything can be scary or traumatizing. Anything from watching a horror movie or hearing a scary story to getting lost in the mall or being caught doing something you know it wrong. But those are mainly because we're afraid for our lives--which none of us are really conscious of at the time--or afraid of whatever punishment we'll be facing.
But it's a different kind of fear when your father is drunk and screaming at your ill and sobbing mother. It's the most dreaded combination of fear and panic and determination that I have ever faced. You're too frantic to truly realize the magnitude your fear, you're too afraid to do anything about it, but you're determined to not let it effect you.
So when there's a little girl curled up on the staircase, too curious to stop eavesdropping but too horrified to continue, something has to be done.
That was when I discovered Braveheart.
Braveheart is what I named the face that I wear when I need to hide my fear and sorrow. It's a stoic face that no one yet has been able to penetrate. It's one of my strongest.
I know that I'm not the only one in the world that has a Braveheart--though not all of you may call it that. Everyone has something that they do to keep themselves in one piece. Some just let loose and bawl, but that's their own form of bravery; to be able to show free emotion, even if it's not intentional. Some people let it sink in and root itself deep inside of them; and while that's stupid, it's still brave. It could maybe help them later on in life, and they're willing to take that risk.
I created Braveheart because my mother was sick and forlorn, and my father was lost and angry. All the time. I didn't want my mother to get more upset by seeing me cry--she already had enough issues to deal with. And I didn't want my dad to see me afraid because he's a man that thinks of fear and love as the world's biggest weakness. I was genuinely afraid of him.
But my mask wasn't fool-proof. I would run upstairs and hide in my closet. (I had a sleeping bag and a box of junk food in there to sustain me.) And there I would let my terror and anguish and all my other emotions fling free, where no one would see me. I would bury my face in a pillow so that no one could hear me. And I would put the mask back on afterwards and emerge from my refuge.
Now, my family's all better now (to an extent). My father has moved out and he's gotten a lot better, even though I've still never in my life seen him sober. My mother isn't sick anymore and she's free of his verbal abuse and the stress that he made weigh heavily on her heart. I don't see Braveheart as much anymore as I used to, though I still use him once in a while when there's a death or something. It's a habit now, to use him when I feel the need to cry. But thank God that doesn't happen often. (I'm still single. Heh.)
But, anyway, that was how Braveheart came to be. If it weren't for him, my low points would have been beyond uprising. But we'll talk about those with different faces.

[When I put in Braveheart, how many of you were picturing the face looking like Mel Gibson?]