Sincerely, Harry || Homicidal Prequel

Entry 07

Dear diary,

I tried to face what happened with Dustin today. I only managed to get to month two of our eleven month relationship before I shut down, and nothing really happened in those two months, but my therapist thought more happened than I do.

She had said: “Even the smallest things can make a big impact on our lives. You're only in here for eight more months, Harry, but your new houshold can put you right back in here if they feel like you need it. I don't want to see you back in here, I want to see you happy, and you won't be happy until you're able to come to terms with what happened between you and Dustin.”

I had swallowed hard enough for it to hurt going down my throat and looked down at my lap. I didn't know what she wanted me to say, so I didn't say anything. She just continued talking.

She said: “Why don't we start with the first couple months you and Dustin were dating. Just tell me how you felt, you don't have to tell me any specific events.”

I know exactly how I felt, what I didn't know was why. I've wanted to know why for the past three years. It's hard to face the fact that Dustin is dead and I'll never know why he made the bet to have sex with me—why he tried to rape me.

I hate that word. Rape sounds so scary. It makes what almost happened to me more real. Sometimes I wish it was all in my head, so I don't have to deal with all this pain.

I told my therapist this, and she nodded. However, she said: “Why don't you tell me how you felt during the relationship instead of how you feel now?”

This was even harder, but I managed, if you can believe it.

“It felt good,” I told her. “I don't know, like, I felt wanted. My mum didn't pay attention to me and neither did my sister and I was so lonely. It felt good. I felt good.”

“Why did you feel that way?” she had asked.

This made me roll my eyes, but I answered.

“Because someone wanted me,” I had said. “He paid attention to me, he made me feel special. He told me he loved me and I believed him. I hadn't had someone tell me they loved me for three years before I met him. When he came over he'd hold me and kiss me and he'd tell me the sweetest things. It felt so good. I guess I was just too naive to see what was coming for me.”

My therapist looked at me so intensely that I had to look away. She said: “Let's not sugarcoat things, you were being naive. But you were thirteen, it's understandable. At that age, your “first love” is a big deal, and you believing that he loved you does not make you at fault for what he tried to do to you. It's not your fault. It never will be your fault. Okay?”

“Okay,” I replied. I didn't know what else to say.

“Did anything happen that made you question it at that moment? Not looking back, but right then, at that moment,” she had asked.

I shook my head and said: “No. He told me he was in love with me and I believed him. At the time I thought he was just being overly affectionate.”

“Did you ever tell him you loved him?” she asked next.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I replied. “I never said it first but I always reciprocated it. I don't know if I loved him or if it was just the attention.”

“What else happened?” she asked me next.

I was already blinking back tears, so I shook my head. I couldn't talk about Dustin anymore. This was as far as we got.

Question: how do I get farther?

Sincerely,

Harry.