Short story: The Tate therapy

He slapped me to the ground; I held my face cowering away from him.

“You are worthless, are you listening? You are worth-less than nothing!” he grabbed me and shook me, trying to get me to react “you aren’t worth anything!”

That’s a double negative that means I’m worth something, technically anyway. I thought.

“Can I interrupt you here Lily?”

I nod looking at her expectantly.

“You said, that you were worth something ‘technically’” Angelina said evenly. I smile I can almost hear the quotation marks.

“Do you now believe you are worth something?”

I nod slowly, even after years of therapy I was still having a few nightmares every now and then, but at least I finally believed that I was not worthless.

“I’m glad you’ve come to that realisation Lily, your mum would have been so very proud” Angelina said.

I nod, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears that threatened to ruin my new image as, semi-normal.

“I miss her every day, I just wish sometimes that – that I had said something sooner about what used to happen in that house then maybe if I…”

“Lily stop! Stop right there” Angelina said firmly “I thought you had done blaming yourself, you are not responsible for –”

“Don’t say her name” I said quickly, my breathing was suddenly coming to fast, and I feel dizzy.

“Lily! Stop! Lily calm down breath! Lily?” her voice was thick with worry; she got up and came and put her arm around me, I put my head between my legs, my breathing till coming heavily.

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