[1.2] Poop & Pee | ✓

0.29

Saturday 17th October 2015. 7am, in the therapist office.

"So what happened?"

"Nothing."

"You were happy last week, what happened Sairah?"

"Nothing."

"Is the notebook helping?"

"Don't. I don't want to speak about the notebook."

"Why?"

"Because, it is stupid."

"How is it?"

"I wrote everything in there."

"What did you write?"

"What he did, do I need to explain what he did?"

"I did read your file-"

"So, you don't need me to explain then-"

"But, you need to come to terms with what happened-"

"You can't tell me what to do."

"I am not, I am suggesting."

"..."

"Sairah, I am on your side."

"I came to terms with it yesterday, I shouted at this guy."

"Who?"

"A guy in my school, he stole my notebook and he said he wouldn't read it. But, he lied and read it."

"Is that why you shouted?"

"Yes, I was so angry."

"Are you angry now?"

"No, I feel betrayed."

"Did you trust him?"

"I did, I am an idiot."

"No you aren't, is he the first boy you trusted since..."

"You can say it, since the rape. Since the rape."

"Did Michael assault you more than once?"

"You read my file, you should know."

"Sairah, how will I help you if you don't allow me to?"

"..."

"My father and Michael were childhood friends. When my mother was alive, he would always bring sweets for me. He was like an uncle to me, took me to the park and to the ice cream shop on Saturdays."

"You can do it, go on."

"Then Mum died, I was only twelve. All I wanted was my Dad, I needed him but he changed."

"How did he change?"

"He stayed out later in the office and left early in the morning. There wasn't any time to talk about Mum."

"Who took care of you when he was out?"

"Michael."

"Did he-"

"I was only twelve, it was a couple days after the funeral. Dad had been staying late at the office, Michael knew how upset I was, upset with everything."

"Go on Sairah."

"He said he could make me feel better, make me forget everything. He said that he was thinking of me a lot and that he cared about me. I was only twelve."

"It's okay to cry."

"I swear, I told him that I didn't want to. I told him, I didn't like it. I promise, I didn't want to it."

"I believe you, it is okay. I believe you. What would he do after?"

"He would throw away the evidence, replaced the bed sheets and sprayed the room. Then he would always kiss me on the head and warn me not to tell Dad. He would go downstairs, turn on the TV as if nothing happened. As if he wasn't a monster."

"Just breathe, breathe."

"Dad would come home just past midnight, I would hear him. He would talk to Michael for a bit and then Michael would leave."

"Did Michael always do this?"

"Yes, ever since I was twelve. Every day, late at night. Couple hours before midnight."

"Why didn't you tell you Dad?"

"I was scared."

"Why were you scared?"

"Scared that he wouldn't believe me and what Michael would have done."

"Did he always threaten you?"

"Not at the start but as I got older, I tried to fight back but that only made him fight harder, gave me bruises. Overtime, I gave up on fighting him. Get it over and done with."

"Did Michael act different during the day?"

"Yes. He acted like an Uncle but this time, I wouldn't take his sweets."

"Well done Sairah, you did well."