I arrive at the counseling building and sign in with the lovely lady at the front desk. She hands me a form to fill out and tells me to wait for my name to get called.
The form has a list of topics. I check the boxes with those I plan to address with the counselor.
☐ Bullying
☐ Stress
☐ PTSD
☒ Sexual violence
☐ Mental disorder
☐ Aggression
☐ Absences
☐ Grief and loss
☒ Sexual orientation
☐ Gender Identity
☐ Offense/felony
☐ Depression
☐ Academics
☒ Family concerns
☐ Peer relationships
☐ Pregnancy
☒ Anxiety
☐ Career/Degree uncertainty
☐ Finances
☐ Homelessness
☐ Self Harm
☐ Health issues
☐ Drugs/Alcohol
☐ Relationship
I almost check the last one, too, but I promised Father I'd focus on my trauma, not my relationship. Still, I check the "family concerns" box, hoping to open up about some issues at home. Perhaps I could find a way to bridge that gap Father and I have created over the years.
As I wait, I think about what I will say to Dr. Deku. How much will I be able to say to a complete stranger when it took me months to open up to Link and Impa?
It would surely ease my mind considerably if I could be certain that Father won't attempt to access my file to gauge my emotional state and struggles. How am I supposed to open up about family issues if my father is the president of Hyrule and could easily find out about every word that is spoken between me and the therapist.
When my name is called, I am directed to Dr. Deku's room. The door stands slightly ajar. The first thing that strikes me is the abundance of potted plants that seem to have taken over every available surface. Lush, green foliage adorns the windowsills and book shelves, creating a living, breathing oasis within these four walls.
In the center of the room stands a couch in muted colors, next to it a small coffee table with a flickering candle.
With a touch of nervousness, I give the door a soft knock. I am surprised to discover that my counselor is not a woman. This makes opening up about sexual abuse slightly more uncomfortable. But the man seated in the armchair appears wise, his eyes carrying a kind and reassuring warmth.
"Good afternoon, Zelda," his soothing voice utters. "It's so nice to meet you. Please come in."
I enter the room, hesitantly taking a seat on the couch. "Pleasure to meet you," I say.
"How are you feeling?" He asks.
"Quite alright. How are you?"
He smiles, "I'm doing well, thank you for asking."
I straighten my back, feeling a bit stiff and formal as if I was at a job interview.
"How has your first week been going so far?"
I nod, "I enjoy my classes."
"That's fantastic to hear."
I nod again and thank him.
"I'm here to support and guide you, Zelda, so let's focus on your feelings and experiences. What brings you to our session today?"
"Er..." I fumble with my fingers, unable to hold eye contact. "I don't really know how to start. It's a bit strange to talk about..." I can't even say it.
"That's completely understandable. It can be challenging to open up about difficult topics. Remember that this is a safe and confidential space, and you can share at your own pace."
"Confidential?" I say. "So my father won't hear details about our sessions?"
Dr. Deku looks slightly startled by my accusation but remains collected. "Of course not."
"But he's the president of the school. Can't he just... go through my file or read your notes?"
"Rest assured, your sessions with me are held in strict confidence, and I take your privacy seriously. It's a fundamental part of the therapeutic process. Your father, as the college's president, does not have access to my notes or discussions."
I let out a sigh that doesn't go unnoticed by the man across from me. He takes notes even though we haven't started our discussion yet, but I don't question what he is writing down.
"Your well-being is our primary focus, Zelda," he says. "Now, if you're ready, let's return to the issues you wanted to discuss. Where would you like to start?"
"Well..." I close my eyes, taking a moment to convince myself to say the words. I take a calm breath and tell him, "There is this guy... I'd rather not mention his name, but last year he sexually assaulted me." I open my eyes and add, "Twice."
His brows fall in condolence. "I'm truly sorry to hear that you've had to endure such a traumatic experience, Zelda. We can explore how this has affected you, emotionally and mentally. You have the control over how we proceed."
"I'm fine now, actually. I talked to my close friends about this and I'm much better now. I'm really only here because my father is making me. He found out about the assault because I came home with a hickey that day. At first he accused me of having slept with the very guy who assaulted me... He called me a slut and we didn't speak for months. It took him over 6 months to understand that it was done against my will."
Dr. Deku gives me an empathetic look, taking more notes. "It's unfortunate that it took your father some time to understand the situation, but it's good that he eventually did. Can you tell me more about your home situation and your relationship with your parents?"
"My mother passed away when I was 6, so it's just been me and my father." I chuckle uncomfortably and clear my throat, "Or rather, me and the maid."
"Could you elaborate on that?"
"Growing up, Father was mostly gone for business. He would promise to be there for the holidays or for important events in my childhood, but he never kept his word. Overall, he did not take much of an interest in my childhood unless it was to begrudge me for wasting my time with anything other than politics. He even forced me to major in Political Science despite my passion for Biology. So while he was gone on birthdays and holidays, I was raised by maids and tutors."
"I'm truly sorry to hear about the loss of your mother and the challenging relationship with your father." Doctor Deku leans in, speaking calmly. "It sounds like you may find it difficult to trust your father, and perhaps other people in your life, due to the experience of broken promises. I can also tell that there have been significant expectations and pressure placed on you from an early age, particularly concerning your academic and career choices. How have these expectations and the limited emotional connection with your father affected your well-being and sense of self?"
I remain silent for a few seconds, thinking about the question.
Slowly, I admit, "I find it challenging to accept other people's love."
He nods as if he already knew this about me. "Have there been any particular moments in which you felt it impossible to accept someone's love?"
"Yes," I say. "When my boyfriend first told me he loved me, I rejected the idea that anyone could love me because I always had to work hard for my father's affection. Sometimes I still find it hard to believe that someone could truly love me without having earned it."
He nods, "It's not uncommon for past experiences to influence how we perceive and respond to love and affection in the present. Building self-worth and self-acceptance is a crucial part of the healing journey, and if you're open to it, we can explore techniques and strategies to help you gradually let go of these past patterns and allow yourself to receive and appreciate the love that's offered to you in your current relationships."
"That would be... amazing," I say, feeling more hopeful than ever. If I can overcome my insecurities, I can be the girlfriend Link deserves. "Since we're talking about it... there's something else..."
"This is a safe space for you to discuss anything that's on your mind, Zelda."
I nod, still hesitant about it all. But I remind myself that talking about it will help me grow as a person.
"When it comes to affection," I pause, taking a nervous breath. "I feel like... Ever since the assault, I've had trouble being intimate." Allowing myself to be vulnerable, I push through the embarrassment, "I've worked a lot on myself in the past year and I believe I've made progress, but I'm still worried that there might be something wrong with me..."
The moment those words pass my lips, the air in my throat becomes heavy, making it impossible to breathe. I can't pretend that it didn't hurt to say it out loud.
"Zelda, there is nothing wrong with you," he assures me and something about his sincere demeanor makes me believe in those words. "It's entirely normal to have concerns about intimacy, especially after experiencing something as traumatic as sexual assault."
"But... I haven't even told you what happened."
"Would you like to tell me?"
"I don't know. It doesn't really matter anyway. It wasn't anything crazy... I stopped him before he could take it too far. And that's why sometimes I feel like I'm overreacting. I mean, he even told me I was overreacting... I started to think that I should have healed much quicker. I shouldn't make a big fuss, you see? That's why it's so embarrassing to talk about it. It shouldn't have affected me this much. After he told me I was overreacting, it felt impossible to open up to the people I trust. I... I fear their judgment..."
He shakes his head compassionately. "This may also tie in with your childhood experiences. Your every move has been judged, even in your own home... It doesn't help that sometimes," he sighs as if disappointed, "abusers minimize their actions or blame the survivor, which can deeply affect how you see yourself and what you've been through. And... an abuser does not only have to be physical. From what you are telling me, your father might have committed acts of emotional abuse, even if it may have been unintentional on his part."
Why does that hurt so much more than what Karusa did to me? I don't want to believe my own father is an abuser...
"It sounds to me like you've been carrying a heavy burden for a long time. What happened to you wasn't okay, Zelda, and though it's understandable that you feel conflicted about the impact of your experience, especially since you've been made to doubt your own feelings, your progress in the past year is a testament to your strength and resilience."
I can't even tell if he's talking about Karusa or Father... Or both...
"As far as intimacy goes, it's important to remember that healing is a unique journey for everyone, and there's no set timeline for recovery. One piece of advice I can offer is to continue at your own pace, ensuring you're comfortable every step of the way. Open communication with your partner can be incredibly helpful. This could help navigate these challenges and regain a sense of control over your own body and emotions."
I hold back the tears. I feel so comforted by his words, it's making me emotional. In a good way. "I have already talked to my boyfriend openly. I still worry about the pressure and expectations. What if I don't... I mean... what if I fail at being properly intimate? Or what if I will never feel the same way about it as him?"
"There's no "one-size-fits-all" definition of intimacy. You mentioned earlier that you find it hard to accept love due to the lack of parental affection. I believe it's possible that the pressure and fear of failure you feel when it comes to intimacy are also influenced by the way your father raised you."
"Really?"
"Yes. Growing up with high expectations can certainly affect how you view success and your own worth. You may have adopted this behavior and applied it to yourself, even in matters unrelated to your father. Like intimacy."
"You think I'm subconsciously putting pressure on myself?"
"I believe it's a possibility."
"Because of my father?"
He nods. "But this is something that can be overcome. Recognizing the source of your worries is a significant step toward understanding and addressing them."
"So how can I overcome my fear of failure and the expectations that come with intimacy?"
"Well, let me ask you this," he leans back, his fingers interlocking. "How do you define fear?"
"A situation or object that causes me to feel scared, threatened, or uncomfortable."
He shakes his head with a subtle smile. "Often, our fears are not rooted in the inherent nature of a situation or object, but rather in the uncertainty that shrouds it. Imagine someone terrified of heights, finding solace in the certainty that they are immune to falling; suddenly, the fear disappears. Or a girl plagued by arachnophobia. If she was assured that spiders are unable to move a muscle without her approval, the once-daunting creatures lose their scare. Or picture someone afraid of the dark realizing there are no lurking figures or hidden threats. It's not the heights, the spiders, or the darkness that scare us; it's the unpredictability and uncertainty of 'Will I fall?' or 'Where and when will the spider crawl toward me,' or 'Is that a mysterious figure lurks?' You see now? The true source of fear lies in feeling out of control.
The good news is, in your case, overcoming it is entirely possible because confidence comes with experience and knowledge. If becoming more intimate with your partner is one of your goals, it might help to first spend some time alone exploring your own body. Understanding your own desires can help you communicate your needs to your partner more effectively, and once you find out what you are comfortable with and what makes you feel good, it will feel a bit more familiar and natural when exploring these things with him."
Does he really think so? Or is he just saying whatever will comfort me the most? It does sound very logical.
Maybe, just maybe, I'm not as messed up as I thought. It's okay to struggle, it's okay to have these fears and doubts.
Acknowledging my own vulnerability feels like a breakthrough. I didn't think therapy would make me feel so understood and supported. Dr. Deku's words have really been reassuring, offering a glimmer of hope. The pressure to excel, which has been ingrained in me since childhood, no longer seems as overwhelming as it once did.
...
Back at the house, I still ponder over Deku's words. I wonder if his advice will work, and whether I will schedule another session with him. One thing is for sure, my insecurities needn't stand in the way of my goals. Not only can building confidence help me fight my fear of intimacy, but perhaps it can also help me stand up to Father and make it clear to him that I am an adult now, capable of making my own decisions.
Like taking in Malice...
Speaking of which... Father is in his office, the door shut. I will have to interrupt his work soon to discuss Malice with him. But first I grab some snacks from the kitchen and head upstairs to check on her.
I knock on the guest bedroom and wait. Truth be told, I'm just procrastinating that dreadful conversation with Father. I already know how it will go.
There is a homeless person in our house? He will shout.
And she is Ganon's girlfriend? He will shout.
And she is a drug addict! He will shout.
I will explain that she is in recovery but he will interrupt me, Are you mental! Are you stupid?
I imagine telling him: If so, I inherited it from you.
Now I imagine him speechless, his face glowing red, veins popping on his forehead. I probably shouldn't say that to him. If he starts to insult me, I'll just have to be the bigger person and remain calm. Let's just hope he's mature enough to discuss this like two adults. Maybe I'll get lucky and he's in a good mood today.
It takes Malice a while to unlock the door, and when she finally does, the first thing she does is complain that her stomach is hurting. She wipes vomit from the corner of her mouth while clutching to the small bin in her arms. Yuck.
I pinch my nose shut, avoiding her odors. "Are you okay?" I ask, still treating her a bit coldly. When her eyes spot the snacks in my hands, she almost throws up again. "The symptoms are back, aren't they?"
"Back?" she huffs. "They never stopped!"
She crawls back into bed, shivering and hugging herself. Closing the door behind me, I approach the bed and place the snacks on the nightstand, right next to her medications.
"How many hours has it been since you've last taken pain killers?" I ask. That's when I notice something odd. I pick up the Vicodin bottle and bring it closer to my eyes. The bottle was full two days ago, now there are only two pills left. How is that possible?
I give a subtle glance at Malice. "How many did you take?" I ask, holding up the bottle. "Did you take all of these?"
She looks at me, shaking her head. "No."
My brows furrow. "Don't lie to me, Malice."
"I'm not lying," she says defensively.
"Is this why you've been throwing up?" I step closer. "This could kill you!"
She rolls her eyes. "Can it kill me a little faster so I don't have to listen to you nagging me non-stop?"
Her sarcastic remarks don't affect me anymore. I'm not even sure what she is trying to achieve by insulting me anyway. It's not like it benefits her in any way.
I keep in mind that Pik said deep down Malice is a different person. She might even be grateful for my help and patience. But then why hide it beneath that thick layer of insufferable bully?
Who knows... Maybe Malice would benefit from a session with Dr. Deku. Although I think he's way too kind to be her therapist. She needs someone who'll apply tough love on her.
She continues to murmur complaints but I ignore all of them and grab the dirty dishes from breakfast before I leave the room. Not a crumb left on the plate. I feel proud of her for eating a full meal today, then I remember that she probably threw it all up after taking all those painkillers.
I worry about her. If she hadn't thrown up, I wonder if she could have died. I really have to keep an eye on her. From now on, I will keep her medications hidden and give them to her in appropriate dosage.
I leave the dirty dishes in the kitchen and summon every ounce of courage as I stride towards Father's office. It's time to shine; this will have to be the most persuasive speech of my life.
The moment I knock on the door of his office, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Whoever is calling can wait. This is far more important right now. But when I pull out my phone to mute my notifications, Revali's name shines back at me in large letters, and suddenly my plans come to a screeching halt.
*Can we talk?* his message reads.
This could be important. What if he's ready to talk to me about whatever it was he wanted to talk about at the bar?