A fear.

I'm afraid of corpses.

When my mother died four years ago, we went to see her for the last time at the morgue. All my sisters went and caressed my mother's bald head or hold her cold hand. And then they all made room for me, stepped aside, since I was just standing there, in the corner, feeling empty. I didn't want to, but everyone expected me to, so I touched her hand.
I kept thinking "why should I do this? This is not my mother", but I couldn't refuse, everyone was staring at me. And to be honest, I felt really sick and I just wanted to wash my hands over and over and over, until my skin would peel off.
But I didn't. I washed my hands only once, got in the elevator with everyone. After that I don't remember anything, how we got home... I only remember that the weather was cold.

Then, in 2009, after two years from my mothers death, we went to the capital city with my class. It was a school trip, and we went to see some exhibitions. And then there was photographs a person had taken in a morgue. Pictures of dead people, corpses, crying relatives.
It was the worst panic attack I have ever had. I felt I couldn't breathe, all I could do was just stand there feeling sick until someone asked if everything was alright and I ran away.
Sitting next to my teacher in the vestibule, waiting for the rest of the class come out from the exhibition hall, I cried.

So yes. I never really tell people this, but I'm afraid of corpses more than anything (or I've yet to find a thing that would scare me more than a corpse).