After the death of her mother, Rya, a sixteen year old girl, sets out to find her father, who she had not seen in fifteen years due to her mom's paranoia and desire to protect her.
The two finally find each other again. But, danger is always lurkin...
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"RY, WE NEED TO TALK" Chris told her in a serious tone.
Rya looked up from her bowl of cereal, mouth full of them and pulled her face into a frown, not liking his tone one bit. She nodded hesitantly at him, pushing him to continue, her curiosity egging him on.
His eyes softened at her alarmed expression "Don't worry, it's not anything horrible."
She had visibly relaxed in her seat, resuming shoving the spoonfuls of cereals down her throat. "Go on, then." She told him quietly, fucking hating how long he was taking to spit out whatever it was he wanted to say.
There was no way to say this delicately he realised, she was going to get mad no matter what. "I want you to see a therapist." He rushed out.
Rya quite litterally choked on her food and started coughing violently, her ribs throbbing in pain because of it. Her eyes started watering as she quickly got out of her seat and ran towards the sink, drinking water directly from the faucet to let the pieces of food stuck in her throat down her esophagus. Chris was behind her, tapping her back a bit forcefully hoping to help in some way.
When they managed to pass down, towards the next organ in her digestive system, she turned around to face him, quick like thunder, rage burning inside of body.
But the thing was, it was so much easier to process your pain, your hurt through anger rather than sadness. Way fucking easier.
"Why would I see a therapist? I'm perfectly fine." There is nothing wrong with me, she wanted to add.
In Rya's mind- a mind that had been forged by the strong ideologies of her mother- seeing a therapist meant that you were weak, that something was somehow wrong with you. It hurt her that her own father thought that there was something wrong with her.
The girl knew that the disrespect was clear in her voice. She knew it yet she didn't stop herself from glaring at him becausethe anger-the hurt- in her veins wouldn't let her think rationally.
"As much as you'd like for everyone to believe you when you say that, we don't. I know you can't possibly be okay with this. A week ago you were sexually assaulted and before you could process it, even report it to the fucking police, you found out that your cousin who was like a brother to you died on the same day and to top it all off, you were kidnapped Ry!" Chris' words rang loud and clear through Rya's mind, making her think.
Her mother had told her time and time again that being weak wasn't an option for them, that they were strong woman capable of evrhthing. Crying, talking about feelings, being hurt for "no reason" were concepts that were prohibited in her house while growing up.
Yet, now that the woman was gone, people around her kept telling her do the exact opposite. Talk about your feelings, show that you're hurt, cry, let it out. People believed it helped. As confused as that made her, she could understand it. Whenever she cried, she felt a weight being lifted off of her shoulders, right before the shame came in. Shame that had been installed in her head by her mother.
