My head is a series of dead ends

I'm sad. I'm sad because I feel cold and alone. I don't want to be here. I want to be somewhere safe, drowning in distractions. At the moment, I don't care about healing anymore, or being good to myself, I just want OUT of this latticework my mind has created. I feel as if I'm constantly walking into walls. One half of me is in constant disagreement with the other half. My therapist says this duality is my adult self, the person I am presently, and my child self, the one who was there alone and scared through all the abuse. I've come to the same conclusion myself before, but I don't remember when. In this mindset, nothing is safe, nothing is healing. Even if I know logically that fill-in-the-blank will help me, part of me rears back and screams with just how much she doesn't want it.
So what do I do? I take something and zone out on moving pictures when I should be wrapping the scared child in blankets and telling her that she's safe. But I'm angry too, and I don't want to have to lead her out of suffering. She can do that herself. But that's not really me talking, is it? The person I really am, I would hold the child and yell at whomever told her to buck up and deal, to drag herself out of the mire when she doesn't have the means. I'm the child, the one holding her, the one giving her shit. There's too many of me and we're all fighting. My head used to be filled to the brim with people I had created, splinters off the main personality, to keep me safe no matter who I was around. I would match the person's likes and dislikes, wants and needs. If they were tired, I suddenly would feel tired as well. If they liked 80s hair metal, I suddenly did too. I did this so many times with so many different people, and every edited version of myself stuck around to give an opinion. There was always a lot of talking in my head. When I was upset, it became chaos. Each voice was upset and expressing it but getting nowhere. In moments of panic, I would hear screaming, lots and lots of voices screaming in fear and panic.
I want a safe warm place to curl up and sleep in. I want someone to hold me and tell me everything is alright, even if it's a lie. I want to be able to cry until my face is soaked with snot and tears. I want to fight the air and scream in anger and tell that asshole that it was MY body and he had NO DAMN RIGHT to put his hands on it. If my life wouldn't end in prison, I'd kill him. I'd kill him in the most horrific way possible. I'd want the last words he heard before dying to be me telling him just how much I hate him and how despicable of a human being he turned out to be. But that's not enough. It feels like nothing ever will be. I'm stuck with this hole he gouged out of me forever.
Nothing I say anymore sounds sincere. I think I'm finished for now.