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by Elmo Author IconMail Icon
Rated: · Other · Other · #1327624
I cry because I don't want to feel dead
I started crying as soon as I walked into Genna’s office and sat down. I always cried in her office, I couldn’t help myself.

As soon as I walked through the door it was as if all my past discrepancies were waiting there for me as well.

I take one step and I remember those eyes.

I take another and I feel his hands.

And by the time I reach my chair the tears have already welled in my eyes.

It’s embarrassing to be so emotionally unstable. To feel a flash flood of sadness, pain and terror with out any justifiable cause.

Is the fact that it happened enough?

No, in my mind I don’t think so. And yet it’s as if there’s nothing I can do to stop myself.

Genna pushed a box of tissues towards me.

I grabbed a few, wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

I laughed, a nervous laugh.

“Like crap.”

“How has your week been?”

“Ok, not great.”

Genna scooted her chair closer to me.

“Today I want to do an exercise with you,” she handed over a blank piece of paper and a few pens, “I want you to draw a human figure, stick figure, whatever you want.”

I tentatively picked up a pen and drew a stick figure in the top right hand corner of the piece of paper.

“Draw it quite a bit bigger, Jayne.”

I turned the paper over and started again.

“That’s better. Now, what we’re going to do, it pretend that, that figure you’ve just drawn is the man that assaulted you,” she spoke softly, as if speaking loudly would scare me away, “I want you to draw and write what you would like to do to him.”

I looked up at Genna, confused. Not knowing were to start.

“Say, if you wanted to punch him, then draw a fist.”

Now I understood.

“Tell me what your doing while your drawing.”

I took a black marker and drew circles around his eyes to make it look like he had been punched.

“I would hit him in the face,” I spoke without looking up.

I then drew a foot between the stick person’s legs.

“What’s that one doing?”

I spoke quietly whilst drawing pervert across his face, “It’s kicking him in the crotch, and now I’m tattooing pervert across his forehead so that everyone knows.”

Genna seemed to move closer, “Why pervert?”

I stopped drawing and looked up at her.

“Why not…rapist?”

I froze, not breathing, not moving, not thinking.

My vision blurred.

No. No. No. No.

I sucked in some air and held it down.

Head shaking,

No. No. No. No.

Before I knew it I was crying again. Big gulping sobs.

“Tell me why you’re so afraid to remember?”

I couldn’t. My mind had frozen, I couldn’t.

I shook my head, hiccupping.
© Copyright 2007 Elmo (emilyjayne87 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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