Flashbacks and Memories

I'm not always sure what and how much to say here. I remind myself that no one is forced to read this, and hopefully those who choose to read it are helped in some way. It helps me immensely to share my experiences publicly. One of the most devastating effects of childhood abuse is the secrecy. By telling openly and honestly, and having people respond appropriately (i.e., with compassion for me and outrage toward the abusers) validates the belief that I am not responsible for the abuse, nor do I need to feel shame for what they did to me.


This most recent memory is another regarding my cousin. I do not like to label people as "good" or "bad" because I recognize that those are absolutes. We all have good and bad in us. That being said, she was, in my child's eye view, a very bad person. And confusing as well. At times she was my friend and playmate. At other times she became my tormentor and abuser. I never have known what set her off. I have never known if she was herself abused.
She was essentially an only child. Her father had children from a previous marriage, but they were older and lived with their mother. In some ways her parents doted on her, as parents of only children often do.
She had a playroom set up as a school room. I think it was attached in some way to the chicken coop, but it could be that the buildings were just close to one another. My cousin, my sister and I would play school. There were real school desks in the playroom and a chalkboard on the wall. 
She was big on threats, and often carried through on them. 
I am to be punished for some infraction. It may have had something to do with failing to solve a math problem.
She walks me to the chicken coop, lecturing as we walk. I am to stay there until she comes to retrieve me. I must keep my eyes shut and covered with my hands or the birds will peck my eyes out. If they see me looking at them, they will attack me.
It is dark and dusty in the coop. The hens are on their roosts. I am terrified of them. She has warned me of their malicious intent. 
I am instructed to sit on the floor with my back against the wall. If my eyes were opened and uncovered I would be able to see the door and cracks of sunlight filtering through it. But I must not uncover my eyes. 
The smell is vile. The air is filled with dust, hay and feathers. I begin to cough.
I have asthma.
If I could cover my mouth, I might be able to control the coughing, but my hands must remain over my eyes as protection from the chickens.


Which is worse? Suffocating or being blinded by chickens?