The truth was buried in the family garden, back in 1984.In 2005, I returned to exhume what was hidden. Only to find myself being enclosed by dark, cloaked figures. Aware of snarling voices describing the shame I had inflicted. Hands Grabbing me by my throat. Hurled into a shallow grave. Wailing desperately like a banshee for my release. Inhaling soil, losing each breath. Rasping for air, suffocating in hollow ground. Buried alive alongside my childhood trauma, Laid deceased in a premature grave.