Mangled Shoes

The afternoon ended up being extremely long and horrible. Deborah moved to the mental health facility as soon as the psychiatrist showed up.

"Good Afternoon, Deborah is it? " the psychoanalytic psychiatrist said as he entered."
"Good Afternoon Ma'am. Yes, ma'am, that is correct."
"Right Did you know your name means Heroine in the book of Judges? My name is Mrs. De Beer but you can call me Karen. I'd like for you to think of me as a friend okay so where do we start? She politely asked.
"Okay Mrs.Karen," Deborah responded.

"So what brings you in here today?"
Deborah was hesitant with her answer then she finally said: " I tried to commit suicide."
How did that make you feel? Did that make you feel better? How did it make Mom and Dad feel or your brothers and sisters?

She questioned her nonstop for the remainder of the afternoon, but how could she convey to her that she had committed a haram? She, a sixteen-year-old, was madly in love with a twenty-one-year-old and would do anything to be with him. That This was a secret, I mean, it was obvious that her thoughts were still clouded with memories of her own suffering.

Deborah suddenly recalled how she would hear her mother screaming from the bedroom every night after her father returned from his loathsome ways, and he would hit her. Since they had kept this a secret and the memory was hazy, she never brought it up to them. Instead, she looked at them and grinned, giving them one of her best-crooked smiles. Everything, no matter how unimportant it may have seemed, played a significant role in both who she was and who she would become in the future.

"I'm sorry Karen, I'm at a loss for words because I'm sure you have your own problems."
"I'm going to prescribe Anti-depressants, they should make you feel better. For now, you need to go back to your room for further observations."