She shakes her head at my silence, and I just can’t take it anymore. Her smug smirk, her reminders that they are so perfect- a family out of Target catalog- they drive me over the edge. The light pushes its way up over my tongue. In my mind it emerges into the room, white-hot and seething over her shocked face.

“He raped me, Mom- over and over- and you told me that you didn’t want me anymore! I couldn’t stand what had happened or who I was, and you felt the same way.” I tell her of my sleepless nights, the panic attacks when someone holds me, how I can no longer trust.

I show her what a broken person I am, what really tore me apart that year. She holds me, and rubs my hair, and tells me she loves me. I go to bed and fall into a dreamless sleep, one that allows me to heal.

But outside my mind, I stand there, silent. It eats away at my tongue, my heart, and my soul. I can barely breathe as I stand there, tears streaming down my face. You roll your eyes at me, call me a drama queen under your breath.