The Victim (Book #1)

Chapter 8

"Now, I want to talk a little bit about your last home, if that's alright." She said, clasping her hands together. I liked that she didn't have a notebook and pen like therapists on TV did... she just wanted to talk to me.

I controlled my expression and nodded once.

"Okay..." she began. "Can you tell me who you stayed with?"

I bit my cheek until it bled but stayed silent. If I said one thing, how could I stop myself there?

"Maya?" she asked gently, looking at me with her light eyes. She seemed like she cared about me, really, truly, but I knew she was lying. Talking about the past was just the reminder I needed.

I decided to tell her as much as I was ever going to. My tone was nonchalant, but my voice shook every couple of words.

"He's my uncle. He told me how my parents died when I was very young, and he decided to raise me. It was really hard for him to do, but he said I was always his favorite." I tried to stop the chill from shuddering through me. Didn't she know all this from what happened so recently, when they stopped him from hurting me?

She smiled gently and said, "Did you like being his favorite?"

No, I wanted to say. It hurt. It still hurts.

"Why would I not?" I asked back.

She moved on without an answer. "So, tell me about your uncle. What was he like?"

I gulped as my stomach clenched in fear and my head got light.

"Umm... do you have any water?" I asked, trying to stay sitting upright. "Of course!" she said, leaving the room to grab me a glass. I shut my eyes and tried not to cry, gripping the edge of my seat in pain.

When I opened my eyes, she was walking back in and passed me the cup. I downed a couple sips and took deep breaths, and then said, "What were we talking about?"

"Whatever you want to talk about." She replied. "I know it can be hard, and I'm not trying to get information out of you. I just want to help."

She seemed genuine, but they always did. You can't trust people, they'll always hurt you.

"My uncle..." What was there to say, besides everything?

"He was very tall, with not very much hair. He had blue eyes but they're dark, and a big smile. He laughed a lot." I didn't tell her at what.

"Was he a happy man?" she asked.

"Sometimes." I said with a curt nod. "If I was good."

"You're always good, Maya!" she said, scoffing.

"No." I answered with a serene smile. There wasn't much I was certain of, but this unequivocally fell into the category. "I'm quite the opposite."

"Bad?" she asked.

"Very bad."

"How so?"

I looked at the ceiling and let her question roll around my head, like a loose marble on a car ride.

"I just am. It's in me, it always has been."

"How do you know?" she asked, confused. How could I explain it to someone? I had never tried before.

"It's in my core. Do you know your own core?" I asked. "It's innate. It's strong."

"What does it make you think?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"What does that feeling bring about? Any thoughts? Any ideas?"

I nodded my head, understanding her. "Well I know I deserve pain, if that's what you're asking." She looked shocked. I guess it wasn't what she was asking.

"You deserve pain?" Her voice was mild. I wanted to smile back and have her watch my face twist with cynicism. She should see the real me, but maybe not yet.

I nodded, silent. Then spoke up. "I haven't gotten hurt here yet, and it scares me. But I'll be ready when it comes."

I noticed my hands were shaking ever so slightly, and I found it hard not to focus on distant points in her office like the bookshelf behind her. My sight went so much farther than this room. She looked at me and said "I think that's enough for this week. We can pick back up next week, if you're feeling up to it." I shrugged as if it didn't matter to me.

She got up and opened the door, letting me leave. She told me to feel free to come to her office anytime to talk, not just for our sessions.

"Okay." I said, before heading up the stairs. The pain in my chest was unbearable. I didn't think talking could cause this much suffering.

I made it to my room but by the time I got inside, my legs gave out completely. I curled up against my door and held myself, as I always did when he hurt me. Even when he was miles away, he was hurting me. Luckily, I hadn't cried in years and today was no exception. When Caleb called through the door and told me it was time for dinner, I was the same that I had always been. Maybe my smile was a little forced, and my body a little bit on edge, but if I was? Nobody seemed to notice. As I took a serving of chicken fried rice from its box, I pretended that I couldn't notice either.