Fractured

The sofa looked expensive. White leather, wide enough to drown in, but somehow it made me feel small. I sat upright, knees crossed tight, as if bad posture might betray me. Christina’s chair, on the other hand, looked… inviting. Wide arms, soft grey fabric. She didn’t sink into it like a tired woman at the end of the day. No, she perched with perfect poise, like she’d been trained in the art of being calm when her clients couldn’t be. Her pen rested on a notebook in her lap. She wasn’t writing. She was studying me. “Comfortable?” Her head tilted, and the way she said it made it sound like a trap. I hesitated. “Yes,” I lied. “Mmh.” The tiniest smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “There’s a right answer, you know.” I didn’t return the smile. She leaned back a little. “Look, Sarah, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” “No. I want to.” The words came out too fast, like they’d been shoved past my lips before I could change my mind. And maybe I did want to. Or maybe I just needed to. “I have to tell the stories,” I added, softer now. She nodded, the kind of nod that said “I’m listening”, but also “I won’t let you off the hook” The memories still make me want to vomit. “I actually liked him,” I started, surprising myself. “Tamara. At least… I think that was his full name. Everyone called him Tammy.” Christina didn’t write anything down, but her eyes sharpened. “Hmph,” I said, almost to myself. “What is it?” “It’s funny. I still don’t know his last name, but I was… swept in. At seventeen, that felt like enough.” Seventeen. That was the year everything cracked open. That was the year I learned the difference between wanting someone and letting them take you. “I’d sneak out of the house at night to see him,” I went on. “Which was… a huge deal. Because of the warden.” Christina’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “The warden?” “Yeah. My dad. The prison warden.” “I see. That’s how you viewed your home then? As a prison?” “Hard not to,” I said. “I couldn’t go anywhere unless it was supervised or under some insane set of conditions. And never at night. Not even a sleepover. Ever.” Her pen finally moved. Just one word, I noticed, but I couldn’t see what it was. “But I’d sneak out for Tam,” I continued. “I’d just started smoking weed. Taking pills. Codeine. And I thought I’d be leaving soon anyway — to the UK for school — so why not welcome a little rebellion?” “And you did,” Christina said quietly. I gave a humorless laugh. “Oh, I did. And I thought it was harmless. A few times over at his place. We’d smoke, lie down. Make out. That was enough for me back then.” I shifted in my seat. The white leather creaked under me like it disapproved of my past. “One night,” I said, “I went over in this dress. Orange or red, I can’t remember. We smoked, like usual. Then we started making out and… I guess he could feel..” My voice caught. “The moisture. From the hump.” Christina stayed still. She didn’t rush me. “I liked him,” I repeated, like it might explain what happened next. “The virgin in me didn’t crave much more. But he… stuck it in. Just like that. No warning. No asking. I jolted, and he just said, ‘Sorry, sorry. You’re so wet,’ like he was trying to convince me I wanted it.” I swallowed hard, the taste of bile at the back of my throat. “I kept shifting away, but he held me down as much as he could and kept… pushing. Then he just stopped. Walked me to his sister’s car. Drove me home.” I could almost hear the silence of that ride, the way I’d kept my eyes on the dark road instead of him. “I ran to my room, cleaned myself up. There was blood. But I was pumped full of pills, so… I didn’t let myself feel anything. I just told myself I wasn’t a virgin anymore and maybe, if I went back, it would feel good the next time.” My voice cracked, and Christina’s eyes softened — not pity, just a quiet steadiness that made me want to keep talking. “I went back. Over and over. Thought it’d get better. But it didn’t. I just felt… dirtier. More disgusting. And I didn’t even know why.” The pen scratched again. “My visa application to the UK got declined,” I said. “so i took a gap year to 'regroup.’” I made air quotes with my fingers. “That’s when his cousin came to town.” The air in the room felt heavier. Christina’s eyes told me she knew where this was going, but she didn’t interrupt. “I was washing a dish when he came up behind me, pressed himself against me. Hard. Whispered something about ‘stealing a grind.’ I froze. He walked away like it was nothing.” My chest tightened, heat rising behind my eyes. “I told Tammy’s friend — who was also my sister’s boyfriend at the time — and he lost it. But when Tammy found out, all I could think was: you’re just like him. Except I didn’t say it. I just cried while his sister accused me of wanting it. And when I saw the way Tammy looked at me… I knew he believed her.” The shame came back in a wave, sharp as it had been that day. “I kept dating him,” I admitted. “I don’t even know why anymore.” Christina leaned forward slightly. “Why this tale?” I met her eyes. “Because it was the beginning. The moment I set myself on a path to self-destruction… and I didn’t even know it.” The clock on the wall ticked, loud in the quiet. Christina didn’t speak right away. Then, gently, “And what came next?” I exhaled, a shaky smile forming on my lips. “The first of many mistakes… and one man I thought would save me.” Her brow lifted. “And did he?” I looked down at my hands. “No,” I said. “He almost destroyed me.”