❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞. ❞
When Ricardo Esposito bursts through a door and finds a girl handcuffed on the floor, he decides to take her in and give her something she never had.
A fam...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Three weeks later
As I sat across the therapist, I quickly realized that I had never felt more attacked in my whole life.
I was not sure whether it was the small notepad lying on her lap or how long she was able to hold eye contact that made me feel uncomfortable. However, what bothered me the most was that I did not know what she knew about me.
I had to ask Ricardo what he told her about me, so I knew what to say.
This was a 60-minute session and the first ten minutes passed without anything being said, except for a brief introduction from her side. I didn't think it was necessary to say anything else than my name, as everything about me was already on her notes.
After she looked at the clock and wrote down something, she started.
"Do you know why you're here today?" she asked me what I answered with shrugging my shoulders.
"Do you want me to take a slow approach to this topic, or do you agree to bring it up directly?" she asked again, whereupon I agreed with the latter option as I just wanted to be done with it.
"Abuse-" she started, but I stopped her before she could finish that sentence.
"I wasn't abused."
"How do you know that?"
"He never hit me," I retorted.
She then placed her notepad on the small table between us before continuing.
"There are many kinds of abuse. There is physical, emotional, sexual, financial abuse, and more. And physical abuse isn't just beating; it includes strangling, throwing things, and starving someone," she explained before adding, "Even if the bruise on your skin disappears after a while, it still counts."
After she gave me a few minutes to process her words, she continued to ask. "Now, do you want to tell me in which ways you have been mistreated?"
"I haven't been mistreated," I muttered.
When she realised that I was not in the mood to talk about it, she offered me to fill out a questionary so that she would get a better understanding of my situation.
I, on the other hand, kept reminding myself that no matter how unpleasant it was, it was necessary to move forward.
"From my point of view," she began after reading through my answers. "You were physically, emotionally, and sexually abused." I understood her, but my mind wasn't ready to accept it yet.
"Maybe I'm wrong," I muttered. "Maybe he didn't do any of this, or I just remember it wrong."
