Damaged beyond repair

Chapter 2

                The psychotherapist doesn't even introduce himself. Simone's attorney calls it intimidation, I call it not interesting. I will tell him my story and will never see him again. For the hundredth time, I tell the same old story, and find myself quite able to block out any feelings.

"In the winter of 2000, I was placed with them. I don't remember much of that year. For the duration of 6 years I was abused every evening, in any way I can think of. Psychologically, physically, everything. Their two kids were in on it. The teachers at my school were acquaintances, so whenever I sought out their help, they turned on me and told me to shut my mouth. When other children told their parents about something they saw, like bruises, and their parents alerted CPS, they made sure they had a believable story ready. I fell down the stairs again or picked a fight with one of the sons. I was the criminal, according to them, and eventually, CPS stopped responding. When I went to highschool, they made sure not to bruise me too obviously anymore, so nothing could go wrong. Simone, my guardian, walked in on me changing clothes after gym class and saw the cuts and bruises. She took me to the hospital, where the whole case unraveled. CPS stuck with the fact that, supposedly, there weren't any witnesses and no evidence was ever uncovered, even though there was. Simone sued them and won thanks to damning evidence, and I've lived with her ever since."

I let out a sigh. I told everything. They can't harm us, there's nothing to worry about. But this one doesn't let go easily.

"First of all, was there ever any damning evidence?"

I blink, surprised. What did I just say? What does this guy think? Simone won the case without any evidence?

"Their kids thought it'd be funny to film one of their playful abusing sessions, if that's what you mean."

I can't help but respond sarcastically. Did he even read the case file?

"What was a teacher doing in the dressing rooms? There were young kids in there."

His question makes my blood boil in my veins. How dare he talk about her like that, after everything she's done for me! But I know I must stay calm. If I lose control, it will give them more reason to come after me. I take a deep breath to calm down before answering.

"Other student told her I always hid in the showers whenever I changed my clothes, always avoiding the communal room. She also noticed I was in pain a lot, but never let anyone check me. The fact that nobody could ever touch me sort of stood out as well."

That last sentence brought a weird smile to his face. Are my weird habits that amusing to him?

"I'm glad you mentioned that. You were diagnosed with PTSD, Posttraumatic stress disorder," Oh, wow, what a novelty. I did not know that. "Could you explain to me what that means, in your case?"

I really can't hold back anymore and I roll my eyes at him. Fine. You want to play it like this? Have fun with it.

"I get black-outs when a door slams, when somebody touches me or when somebody pretends that they're going to hit me. If you have any further questions you can bother my psychotherapist with them."

I get up and walk out the door. I've had it. Simone jumps up from her chair.

"How did it go?" she asks me. She didn't have to ask, my face betrays me every time. She knows what's going on inside my head, and instantly knows to leave me alone for a while. She understands me so well, I wish I could show her how much I appreciate her. When we'll get home, I will disappear to my room and talk to nobody. She knows, she lets me have all the space I need. Nobody understands me the way she does. That's why I have nobody else. They don't understand me, and if there's something mankind fears most, it is whatever they can't understand. That's why everyone fears me. That, and because of my episodes. But it's fine that way, I don't need anybody else. I'm just different, I'm not made for socialization. What I'm made for, I haven't yet found out. Maybe for nothing, who knows.