She was laying on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, telling her story for the third time. These sessions were always the same. At least in the beginning. By the end, she always remembered something different, something new, or maybe something old that she had forgotten. As usual she started by reliving the first moment she felt betrayed by the thoughts in her head. She was 10 at the time. She had been in her play room with her tea sets and barbie dolls, when she heard yelling and screaming in the living room. She had went out into the hall to see what was going on. She watched as her dad pushed her mom and she fell to the floor. She screamed. Her dad looked up and saw her there. He yelled for her to go back into her room, and forbid her to come out until she was told to. She ran back into her room and slammed the door. Kneeling down on the floor she cried so hard it hurt. Inside her head altho she didn’t mean it, she had thought “I hate him, I wish he was dead”. Five minutes later she heard a gun shot.