The Girl With The Red Hair

chapter five

(A/N: The following scene takes place in the past)

Chapter Five ~ History

-Lina's P.O.V.-

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I stared at Dr. Marianne, my therapist, waiting for her next question. The visits to her office became more frequent. Everyone believed they were helping, that perhaps her advice and reassurance was aiding me. However, I refuse to think that anyone can "fix" my corrupted mind. A couple words of wisdom won't reverse anything, they don't change a thing.

"You're still such a young girl Lina, barley through your sophomore year of high-school. How'd you manage to cope with this unhealthy relationship for as long as you did?" She asks, attempting to keep her voice still and understanding.

Knowing that anything I say doesn't leave this room, I prepared my rant. "I was a very energetic kid. Always doing something that involved movement. I participated in a ton of sports, and with sports came the injuries. I'd remember every time I scraped my knee and came home complaining to my mum. She'd laugh, brush it off as nothing, disinfect the cuts and whisper in my ear that if it burns or hurts that means it's working, or healing if you will. She'd say it as reassurance to distract myself away from the pain. The thought of eventually getting better made me act differently towards the situation. I had stopped screaming through the discomfort and began fighting it.

"I grew up remembering those words; that if it hurt it was working. By the time I reached high-school I already committed some idiotic things and caused some chaos. I began acting mature for myself but not for the things I did. Meaning that if I were to injure myself, I'd be the one to heal it.

"When I met Zachary I was still fifteen. All my friends were in relationships at the time, going on double-dates and doing cliché couple things like drinking together. It's an understatement to say that I felt left out, so I took my chances and had some hope in him. I knew of the things he did in the past but chose to ignore it. The fact that an eighteen year old guy was trying to get with a freshman should've been the first red flag, but I'm too stubborn to let those "little" things define people." With a sly smile, I forced myself to continue.

"It wasn't as horrid at first, however, when I turned sixteen it was like a milestone for him. The little respect he had for me before was now completely gone. So much so that I forgot it even existed in the first place. It wasn't just the peer-pressure that stopped me from ending it. It was the frightened feeling I had creeping up my spine whenever he gave me a dirty look. My rebellious and tough attitude didn't overcome the fear I felt whenever I tried to call it off.

"It wasn't so much physically abusive as it was mentally and emotionally. But I didn't want to believe that it was abusive at all. Instead, I told myself we'd both eventually reach a realization and settle on the fact that some urgent changes should be made about the relationship we had going on. The only problem was that by the time I came across my realization, he was still a couple thousand steps behind.

"I recall this one night where I slept over at his house. He didn't allow me to leave the room without supervision. His trust was as thin as my patience. I waited hours for him to fall asleep in order to leave the bed and get myself a glass of water, possibly a meal. I hadn't eaten that day. However, before I could even get to opening the door up and tiptoeing down the stairs, he spit my name out of his mouth like it was poison; he shrieked and screamed so loud. So loud and demanding, I wanted to cry.