We're Not Crazy

Therapy Pt. 1

*17 months prior*

"Leyla...I need you to talk to me, sweetheart." said my therapist for the fourth time.
"I don't want to..."
"I know it hurts and I know it's traumatic. But talking about it helps to overcome it. These things hurt, but it helps to talk about them. It's better to cope."
I sat with my knees to my chest and my chin laying on them.
"You know if you don't cooperate you'll be in trouble. It's best to help me help you than to experience what you know will happen. We just want you to get better."

I laid my face to the side on my knees and stared at the wall.

"What do you want to know?" I asked reluctantly.

"You know what? Let's start simple, okay?"
I nodded.
"Have you read today?"
"Mhm. I finished one and started another." I replied.
"How was the one you finished?"
"Really good." I smiled. "It had a happy ending."
"That's nice. What genre was it?"
"Um...Romance."
"Do you prefer romance novels?"
"No, actually. I usually read nonfiction stories about history. Then horror stories. Then romance."
"I see. What made this one so special?"
"The boy character..."
"What about him?"
"He reminds me of someone..."
"Does he? Who does he remind you of?"
I shrugged.
"Okay, you don't want to tell me, that's okay. Can you tell me what they have in common?"
"They're both funny. And tall. And have brown hair. And some of the stuff the boy in the book would say, seemed like something the boy I know would say." I explained.
"Mm..." she nodded as she listened.

"Leyla, I'm gonna ask you a question and I hope you won't get offended by this."

'I get offended by most of your questions...'

"Is the boy that you know...who is like your book character...is he real?"

I froze.
I never thought about it.
I hoped so...

"Yes." I answered for my own sake.
"Are we sure?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Okay. Can we get back to your past now? Is that okay?"
I really didn't want to.
I just stared at her.

"Leyla, how many times a day did your mother feed you?" she asked.
"Seven."
"Is that including snacks?"
I shook my head.
"She fed you full meals seven times a day?"

I hated having to remember it.
When I remembered the idea...I also remembered the feeling it gave me. The sickness. This is why I hate coming here.

My eyes watered as I nodded anyway.

"Did you eat it all?" she asked while I heard the pen's scratching when she wrote on her notepad.
"No..."
"Did you throw it up?"
I nodded again.
"What would your mother do to you if you didn't finish everything?"

My tears leaked.
I sniffed and wiped my cheeks.

"Please answer." she commanded.

"Sometimes she'd take me out of my nightgown and I'd lay in my underwear and she'd whip me..."
"And what else?"
"She'd yell at me..."
"And what would she say?"
I cried onto my knees.
"Take your time." she permitted.
"She said I did it on purpose because I didn't want to look like her...she said I was like the rest of them, and that I was judging her. And that wasn't true!" I looked up and said. "I thought my mama was the prettiest woman in the world! She's very pretty! I would never!" I exclaimed with a shake of my head.
"I understand." she said nonchalantly as she wrote.
I wiped my face.

"Leyla..."
"Hm?"
"Where was your father during this?"
"I don't know."
"Okay, and what would you say made your mother the way she was?"
I thought about it.

"Society is evil. They were mean to her and made her think she wasn't pretty. My mama deserved to be told she was pretty every hour of every day and I told her. I made it my job. Terrible of them to decide what's considered beautiful or not just because their preference is different. If you're not attracted to someone...it doesn't make them less of a human being or less beautiful and it doesn't make them less deserving of love or compliments or their own confidence...you shouldn't treat them that way..." I sniffed. "My mama is pretty. They're evil for convincing her she wasn't."
She nodded slowly as she looked at me.

She wrote in her book again.

"Do you think that's why she kept you locked away? Because she didn't want you to experience that evil?"
I nodded.
"Do you think she was the evil you experienced on her own?"
I shook my head.
"Why not?"
"They did it to her."
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Hm..." she wrote some more.

"Are we done now?" I wondered.
"Sweetheart, you have fifteen more minutes."

I stood up and walked towards the door.

When I opened it, two large male nurses stood in the way.

I sighed and closed the door back before finding my seat again.

"What's the worst you can remember your mother doing to you?"
"I don't wanna talk about it..." I said and pulled my knees back to my chest.
"I need you to cooperate, Leyla, you know this."
I sighed to myself.

"Was she invasive?" she changed the question.
"What do you mean?"
"Did you have privacy?"
I shook my head.
"None at all? Did you have a door to your bedroom?"
I shook my head again.
"What about the bathroom?"
"The door had to remain open and when I bathed, she did it."
"She bathed you?"
I nodded.
"All the time? Not just as a child? Until you left?"
I nodded again.
She wrote some more.

"Can you tell me what it was like living there again?"
"I tell you every time I'm here. I'm tired." I sighed.
"I know. It's just for a clearer understanding in case I missed anything."
I sighed. "I always wore nightgowns. In the morning I'd wake up, kiss her cheek, say good morning, while she fixed breakfast. She fixed my plate and made me sit then would feed it to me."
"Like you were a toddler?"
I nodded.
"Go on."
"I'd get full and she'd tell me to suck it up. I'd be full after the first plate but she made me eat two more full ones."
"You told me about the time you threw up in the kitchen." she pointed out.
I nodded.
"I'm sorry that happened to you."

I remembered that story again.

Maybe that was the worst thing she'd done.

When she made me clean myself up in the bathroom as she stayed in the kitchen.
Only to take everything I'd thrown up and put it in a blender with a few bananas.
She made me come back and I had to drink it.
She didn't tell me what it was.
But when I reluctantly finished it...
She said, "So you could do it. You just chose not to. You had a big enough stomach for it. You were just a disobedient bitch. Why do you do this to me?"
I was confused until she explained.
I felt sick but me feeling sick didn't stop her from hurting me and claiming I'd lied to her.
When she washed the dishes I snuck into the bathroom and quietly threw up again.

Doctors wondered why I was still small if I was being fed constantly. They didn't take into consideration the days she was gone and I didn't eat at all. Or the fact most meals ended up being vomited into the toilet. You can't gain weight if everything you swallow isn't in your stomach for more than ten minutes.

"Leyla, are you okay?" she asked me.
"I wanna go back to my room. I don't like it here."
"Why don't you like it here?"

Because you make me remember the bad things...
I don't want to anymore.

"Why don't you like it here, Leyla?" she repeated.