I have talked a lot about my memory palace. It is a place I know well, a place that is large and detailed. A place where every bit of information is stored. But a memory palace isn't just for storing information, it is for storing good times, fun times, things that make me smile, people I love, moments I cherish. What I don't tell people is that every memory palace has to have a basement, a place underground to bury the sad times, angry times, foolish times, regretful times, scared times.

Today I have opened the door to a new room, one I hoped I would never have to use. I had 3 dead bolts on it and 3 padlocks. The keys was hidden away inside 3 boxes. I opened the first box a few years ago when Kristina Frye was returned to me with her mind shattered. Would every person I develope feelings for be a target for Red John, She didn't help herself though when she called outo Red John on the talk show. She may not have insulted him but he doesn't like being used. I fumbled as I unlocked the padlock.

I opened the second box when Red John asked for Lisbon's head to show that I truly had had a change of heart. NOTHING else would do Lorelei had said. He even expected me to detach it from her body! Walking away from her for six months was not enough to show Red John that she meant nothing to me. That her friendship was something I could toss aside without a fleeting glance back. That the times I spent on her couch chatting like old women, the ice-creams sundaes we shared, the challenge of our banter, did not form us in to partnership as comfortable and loved as my worn brown shoes. I didn't answer any of her calls and messages, I let her suffer my rejection, made her feel that she meant nothing to me NOTHING and it was all NOTHING!I had not fooled him one bit! My hand trembled as I opened the second lock.

I can't get the third box open my hands are shaking so much. I tell myself to take slow breaths and calm but it's not working. I throw it on the floor hard and a part splinters off. I pick it up and throw it again and again and again. Finally it is in pieces, I search through the debris but I can hardly see, my eyes keeping filling up with tears. I kick something and hear the ping of metal on metal, I rush to pick it up and grab the padlock. I push my weight against the padlock so it is jammed between my body and the door frame. The challenge now is to get the key into the hole which may as well be the size of a pin. An unseen hand takes a hold of mine and the key is at last in the lock. It helps me turn it and the lock snaps open. I fling the padlock off as I need to hurry. I slide back the locks as my legs are beginning to shake. The last one is done but I am on the floor unable to reach the door handle to open it. The door begins to open by itself as if my willing it had made it so. I crawl through . There is no window in this room, no light switch or lamp, it is a small cramped space, that only takes my curled up form, the door begins to slowly close, the light it affords me deminishing as darkness takes over. As the final fragment is extinguished I hear the familiar cackle of my nightmares and then the clunk, clunk, clunk as each bolt and padlock is put back in to place.

This is my panic room

Today Red John took Teresa Lisbon and left a smiley face written in her blood!