Suffering Alone In Silence

Frank's POV

Monday came and went in a blur of nausea fear and talking. Trying harder in therapy was easier said than done. Tuesday was even worse and now Wednesday has finally arrived. I know it was his job, but Gerard just kept asking about my life as a child and how my parents treated me as a child. It was his job to probe into my life.

It was hard for me to answer a lot of the questions. Gerard told me it was okay and that this would take time. He told me to be patient with myself because I haven’t yet come to terms with what happened to me. We talked about my dad beating me and my mother encouraging it. We talked about how they were alcoholics and that it was never my fault and someone should of reported it sooner.

Today we will be discussing my feelings and thoughts on the times I was raped. I can talk about this because I have come to terms with what went on in those ‘sessions’. I have finally accepted that my old man was a bad person and the things that he did to me should have never happened.

“Frank, it’s time for your session.” A friendly nurse by the name of Mara called from my doorway.

I gave a nod of my head and got up from my bed. I have been writing in a notebook recently, just random thoughts and feelings that I don’t feel like discussing with Gerard.

I followed Mara down the familiar corridors and into a brightly painted room. I sat down on the couch and observed the new room I have been placed in. The walls were a nice shade of Champaign and a huge bay window took up most of a wall, allowing for plenty of natural light to come in. A large desk sat in one corner. It was covered in art supplies. Paint’s of various colour’s, pencils, paintbrushes, and paper all lined the work surface.

I was bought out of my observations by the squeak of the door. I turned my head slightly and gave a small smile as Gerard entered the room.

“Hey Frankie, how are you today?” He asked, coming and sitting down in the seat opposite me.

“Fine” I replied.

“I thought we’d do some art today?” He suggested.

“Okay” I nodded.

“So how about we move over to the desk then, yeah?”

“Okay.” I nodded once more.

We got up and moved over to the art supplies together. We set about grabbing pencils and paints and brushes that we needed.

“How about you paint me a picture of what you were feeling when your dad raped and beat you?” Gerard asked.

I knew there was a plot behind this, but I complied nonetheless.

We were quiet for a while. Gerard started drawing random lines and I started dipping a brush in black paint. I worked for a while, using darks colours such as black, purple and blue. I drew swirling vortexes of colour that described everything I was feeling when my father was torturing me.

“Finished.” I stated soon after.

I held up the still wet painting and Gerard looked at it with an analysing look.

“I think we really need to talk.” He stated with a serious tone to his voice.