Connection

Chapter 17

/HAEL/

I know it was on my own accord to come here in Canada for my quote-unquote therapy, but had I known how it would go, I should have never left Manila. I’d rather lock myself in my room for a year than put myself in this kind of torture. As if what I had been wasn’t enough, what came after felt like my situation was just getting worse.

The first therapist they had set me an appointment with was from a male species. I, for the love of freaking God, did not understand why my grandma would do that to me. No matter how much she justified it as, again, quote-unquote picking the best therapist for my healing, it just won’t work. I don’t care if he's the most genius in all the universes that exist, but as long as he’s a he, I am never stepping foot in a room with him. I refuse to be left alone with a man and that is non-negotiable.

My grandma had no choice but to get a new one from the opposite species. It didn’t automatically mean that I was less guarded having a woman therapist considering that the last one I talked to snitched on me, but at least women are way more decent.

“Can you walk me through that night?” she was referring to that night the assault happened. “From beginning to end, and everything you remember about it,” Dr. Escarra added. The brunette, six-foot, brown-eyed, half-Canadian-half-Spanish woman sitting across from me.

“I believe my grandma and aunt already filled you in with all the basic things you need to know about me and my case.”

“They did, but I want to hear it from you. It was you who experienced it in the first place.”

I tried not raising an eyebrow at her after she’d said that. She said it as if I was so special for experiencing it first hand; as if walking through it is just like strolling in a park. I chose to put those thoughts and feelings aside as I convinced myself that it was for my own good. That if I want to get better at handling this, I shouldn’t fight the process of it.

But being cooperative was not as easy as it used to be. I couldn’t keep my throat from letting the words out without shaking, and my hands that were just resting on my thighs earlier started scratching them, my arm, and my ear even though nothing was particularly itchy. I was telling the whole story but my mind wanted to jump onto something else to get it off of thinking that I was telling the story.

“...I didn’t know the drink was drugged until I felt the soft cushion on my back while my surroundings were spinning around me. Then...” I looked away when a tear fell from my eyes, though quickly wiping it away. I wanted to keep the story short. I just wanted this to end. “...his hands were just all over me. In my head, I was screaming and crying for help but I knew I could barely make a sound the whole time he was doing it.”

Dr. Escarra handed me a box of Kleenex which I refused to accept as I successfully suppressed the oncoming tears, “What happened after that? How did you escape him?”

“I did not escape him. Escaping would have required me to fight for my life against him, but I didn't. After he’s done with me, he just left me like I’m a used Kleenex,” I referenced the box of tissue she's holding. “But I suppose that’s better than being dead right there, right?”

I forced myself to move so I could dress myself. I forced myself to move even if it meant crawling out of that room. He was nowhere in sight. Maddie and the rest of our friends were also no longer around. It was so noisy and everyone was drunk. I didn’t know where and who to come to ask for help so I ended up not asking for any because someone might take advantage of my situation again. I have never felt so small and scared until I was forced to drag myself outside, thinking he’d show up again and put me back in that room.