The Broken Tale

Who?

She did move but her eyes followed Chanel as she slowly entered the room and knelt by Layla's feet.
"I understand each and every one of those. They each shaped the largest parts my life." Chanel continued.
Layla looked down at her, expecting to see tears in her eyes but there were none. Chanel was stoic but her eyes were apologetic...saddened and she looked unwilling to tell but she was forcing herself to do so.
"Not every story is how you see them to be, Layla. Neither is mine."
"We-"
"I'm Iraqi."
The words hit like a pile of bricks.
"Wh-What?"
"Yes. I'm Iraqi just like you. I was born there and lived the first eighteen years of my life in Basra. I lived in that cruel environment too."
Layla listened diligently.
"I was not always like this, Layla." She rolled her sleeves to reveal her arm, "You can't see it but I still bear the scars...the scars I inflicted on myself for years. But a bit of foundation does wonders."
"Y-You used to cut?" Layla asked hesitatingly.
Chanel nodded sadly, "I grew up everyday to fear and cruelty for eighteen years. I worked but I felt alone. I woke up to my stepparents' beatings sometimes. I felt alone for the first time when I was my daughter's age, you know? I..."
She smiled a little but it seemed to have been only to make it easier for herself to tell the tale.
"I began cutting so young. I woke up to dark thoughts and...thoughts of...ending it all, doing myself and everyone else a favor always came to me throughout the day. But I worked. I fought on no matter how many thoughts attacked me. But leaving Iraq cost me the toxicity I called my family. But I still missed them. I spent all my time working but...it hurt so much to work on, study on and ignore everything else. I got into drinking...drinking and smoking my lungs out. Not that my life was already healthy so that only added to it, paving the way for burn outs that became all too frequent. My boyfriend didn't make it easier...he pressured me. At the time I didn't see it but he was verbally and emotionally abusive. Everyday, he told me I was not good enough, too useless, too busy, too boring, too skinny, too fat, too short, too broke. I was never enough. I genuinely believed him and...once he told me he had given so much for me but I couldn't give him my virginity, I gave in."
"You..."
"Yes. My first time wasn't of passionate love, it was screams and tears of pain and pity for myself. And then...I cheated on him when I was drunk. With my husband but at the time I didn't know him. I didn't even remember him. That was a fuck up when I got pregnant. Once my daughter was born, my parents had died. I felt like I couldn't do it anymore, there was no hope left for me to cling onto. No money, no love, unreachable purpose and out of strength, I felt like...I should just end it."
"I...I don't know what to say...I'm so sorry." Layla said softly.
Chanel shook her head with a smile.
"Don't be. It was after that attemp that I regained my strength. I finally grasped that I had a daughter now and I had to fight for her. And for myself. Maybe my goals were hard but that just meant I was more ambitious and I had to work harder not that it was impossible. I came from a violent, loveless, dark and corrupt background just like you. I was hurt and held back by that society's sexist and backwards ideas for years. Even after I left it, it still scarred me. But even in the darkest pit that I thought I'd never leave, I asked myself one thing, Layla."
Chanel squezzed Layla's hands in her own.
"What example did I want to be for other girls like me? Someone who fought, someone strong to look up to or someone who gave up without fighting to the bone? Someone who showed them that it was easier to just end it? Who did I want to be?"

Thoughts on Chanel?
Do you think she should be trusted?
Isn't she a little suspicious?
What do you think her intentions are?