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“This indeed showed a different light to your friendship. You see Chad, even though you are going through a different type of battle, you should always remember the type of battle your friend is going through as well. I can see that she is still trying to heal and may have a long way to go after years of being an abused child—but she is still trying and moving forward.”

She shook her head and held her chest. “I spanked my kids a few times on their bottoms when they were driving me purely manic. But I profusely apologized immediately to my younglings. But right now, I imagine them being seven years old again without anyone to help them—and being treated in such a way—my heart is purely gutted. I really think you should seek someone to talk to Sienna. It might help sort some things out.”

I sniffed. “Thank you. I might just do that. I have to think it through first.”

“Chad—this has been a very good productive day. I will be back on Monday and we will continue then.” She stood up and they quietly left the sunny living room.

I looked through the windows and studied the beautiful landscape but I couldn’t see a thing.

My tears were unstoppable.

When Chad returned, Toby was with him. “What the hell happened, Chad? Did someone hurt her? Why are you both crying?” his puzzled voice amused me but it was impossible to say so through my weeping.

Toby sat next to me and cradled my head to his chest. “Hush now, love—there is no man on earth worth crying over like this.” Really, a man…is that the best he could do?

“Now you’re just being an idiot,” Chad said. “Sienna joined me during therapy and ended up sharing her heartbreaking child abuse story. I’m so sorry Sienna—I didn’t expect for it to go that way.”

“No—it needed to be out there. It’s about time,” I said in between hiccups.

Chad sat on the other side of Toby and we all huddled together until Chad’s and my sobs subsided.

The three of us prepared dinner together. During dinner my phone rang and I absentmindedly took it without paying attention to the caller.

“Hello?”

“Is this Ms. Sienna Richards?” A firm woman spoke. “Yes, this is she—”

“Hello, Sienna! I’m Tina Goldsmith and I’m the lawyer for Edith Galley. My client used to work for Mr. Dante Brown. To get to the point, Mr. Brown physically assaulted and abused Ms. Galley two months ago. There are pictures to prove the incident did happen. We are building a case and we learned that you lived in their household until you turned eighteen. Now, Ms. Richards, I was hoping to see if you would be so inclined to help us and tell us exactly what type of a man Mr. Brown is? It would solidify the case and your testimony would mean a great deal to Ms. Galley. Mr. Brown needs help and by proving him guilty, he would exactly get that plus a great deal of punishment.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of information to take in. I understand, I truly do—but I can’t do this right now. Is it possible for me to call you back later on next week? Right now really is not the right time for me.”

“Thank you, Ms. Richards. That would be generous of you if you can truly help us. I will send you a text message with my information. Thanks again!” she said before ending the call.

“Care to enlighten us about that odd call?” Toby waited for my reply as did Chad.

“That was a lawyer for an employee who used to work for my uncle. She claims that my uncle physically assaulted and abused her. They are working up a solid case against him and have physical evidence to prove it. They need my testament to make it air tight with no chance in hell of my uncle running away with his violent tendencies.”

“Amazing! Karma’s a bitch and your f**king uncle is up next!” Chad said haughtily.

“Are you planning to give a statement?” Chad asked. “I know it’s none of my business but I do think you should really do this—for your own sake and for those people he abused as well. I know your Aunt and Uncle are both callous sadistic people and they both deserve to rot in the cellar. But if you can put your uncle there, why not do it? He certainly doesn’t deserve pity. Anyone who hurts women—let alone a small child—indubitably deserves punishment. You have to do this, Sienna. It’s supremely important that you do.”

“I will—I don’t think I can allow him to hurt another person. If I don’t do this….how many children or women is he going to inflict harm upon?” I announced with conviction. That bastard deserves it and don’t I know it.

After the eventful dinner, we all voted to watch Under the Tuscan Sun with Diane Lane to end our night. The thought of Toby obliging us with a chick flick was definitely a sign he felt badly for us. He usually grumbles and complains about the genre—but tonight—he was the perfect companion.

Not once did Toby touch alcohol. I suppose our crying stint sobered him up quickly.

After the movie, we all went straight to bed. I was exhausted from all the crying.

Sleep couldn’t come soon enough.

“Help…anyone….please,” my small defeated voice pleaded as I pounded through the thick oak door.

It was Papa’s one month death anniversary.

“Can you stop with the stupid loud pounding, you little rat? No one is letting you out. So, shut up and let me concentrate in watching my show!” my cousin Caroline hissed furiously against the linen closet door.

My shirt was soaked with tears and it was starting to feel chilly inside the closet. I bunched up my tiny fists and slammed it against the door again. “I didn’t mean to be late waking up. I’m sorry! I promise I won’t do it again! My small fist pounded a little harder, until I had no more strength.

After another hour of crying, my body started to furiously shiver.

“Papa….why did you have to leave me with them?” I spoke in a whisper.

“Papa, please come back. I need you….” my tiny voice pleaded.

I immediately woke up startled and turned on the lamp beside my bed. I was freely crying. Papa….

I haven’t dreamt about that damn tiny closet in almost two years. Why are the dreams coming back now? The therapy definitely opened unhealed wounds and now they’ve resurfaced.

The only chance I have now is to brave it out and finally deal with it. Maybe Dr. Murray was right. It was high time I talk to someone about it. For almost thirteen years, I’ve bottled everything up. It’s no wonder I’m so messed up.

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