Chapter 3 third counseling session

I noticed you don't have a Christmas mess here, just a cedar wreath on the front door for the occasion.You are very considerate, because it is said that during the Christmas season, the suicide rate will soar to the highest point, and most of your patients have probably already set foot on the road of suicide. Alas, no one understands the madness of Christmas better than I do.My Christmas as a kid sucked.All the goodies I saw in shop windows and catalogs went to all my friends' houses, and I could only stare.But ah, the year before I was kidnapped, it was a good Christmas.I spent tons of money on gaudy trinkets and shiny light bulbs.Of course I couldn't decide on a theme for the decorations, so when I finished, each room in the house looked like separate floats at a Christmas parade.

That Christmas, Luke accompanied me for a few walks, walked a long way, and had a snowball fight on the road. When we got home, we put popcorn and cranberries on the Christmas tree, and enjoyed mixed lime Hot cocoa with wine, singing out-of-tune Christmas songs to each other with drunkenness.It's like a special movie show made only for TV. I'm not too lazy to celebrate the holidays this year.But having said that, there are very few things worthy of my attention recently.For example, I borrowed your bathroom before today's treatment and looked in the mirror.Before the accident, I would always look at my reflection in a store window every time I passed by.Now when I look in the mirror, I see a stranger.The woman's eyes were like dried mud, and her limp hair fell to her shoulders.It's time for me to get a haircut, but even the thought of it is killing me.

What's even more frightening is that I have become that kind of person!The whining, melancholy-spreading kind of people who talk about their bad luck.According to their tone, not only are they unlucky, but you are the one who robbed them of their luck.Phew, my tone is probably the same as theirs now.I wanted to compliment how brightly the store lights were lit, and how friendly everyone was during the festive season, really bright and friendly, but when I opened my mouth, all I could spit out was sour sarcasm. Last night I slept in the floor-to-ceiling wardrobe again, probably because of this, my attitude is not much better now, and the dark circles under the eyes are more obvious.I was sleeping in the bed, tossing and turning, making the bed like a war zone, and I didn't feel safe lying on it.So I crawled into the closet and sat curled up on the floor, with Emma sprawled outside the closet door.Poor dog thought she was protecting me.

The pervert came out of the bathroom, shook his index finger at me, smiled and said: I don't forget the time so easily. He was humming a song and I couldn't tell what it was, I just knew that now I would throw up when I heard it!Pulled me out of bed, made me circle, and fell face up on his lap.Just now he wanted to pinch my jaw, and in a blink of an eye he became the fucking king of dancing again.With a dry laugh, he straightened me up and led me into the bathroom. Candles in goblets flickered on the wall tables, the air was filled with the scent of candles and flowers, steam rose from the bathtub, and rose petals floated on the water.

Time to undress. I do not want.The voice was almost a whisper. it's time.He stared at me intently. I take off my clothes. He folded his clothes neatly and walked out of the bathroom with his hands in his hands.My face was hot, and I covered my chest with one hand and my lower body with the other.He pulled my hands away and motioned for me to get into the bathtub.I hesitated, his face flushed, and he walked towards me. I got into the bathtub. He took out the big bunch of keys, opened a closet, and took out a straight razor. He lifted my right leg, resting my heel on the edge of the tub, and slowly stroked my calf and thigh with one hand up and down.It was the first time I noticed his hands.His hands were hairless and his fingertips were smooth, as if they had been burned.Fear burned through my body.How can there be such a person who burns his fingertips like that?

I couldn't take my eyes off the razor as it moved toward my leg, I couldn't even cry. Your legs are strong like a dancer.My mother used to like dancing.He turned to me, but my eyes were on the blade.Annie, I'm telling you he squatted down.You're afraid of razors, aren't you?I nod. He raised the razor to reflect the candlelight.The new razor doesn't shave clean enough.He shrugged, smiled at me, then bent over again and started shaving my calf.If you can continue to open your mind to experience this experience to the fullest, you will gain a deeper understanding of yourself.Knowing that the decision of one's life and death is in the hands of others, this feeling is the most sexually stimulating, and it is rare in a lifetime.He stared at me hard.But you've already experienced the relief of death, haven't you, Anne?I don't respond, his eyes go back and forth between me and the razor.

I don't understand what you mean by that. You shouldn't have forgotten about Daisy. I glared at him. How old were you?Twelve years old, right?What about her?Sixteen, right?He shook his head at the loss of such a dear person at such a young age.Events like that can completely change a person. How do you know about Daisy? As for your father, he died on the way to the hospital, didn't he?And Daisy, how did she die?he knows.The bastard knows. I didn't know until the day of her farewell ceremony.I accidentally heard my aunt explaining to others, and then I understood the reason why my mother didn't want the little beauty to open her coffin for people to admire her appearance.For several months after the incident, I repeatedly dreamed that my sister held her bloodied face and begged me to save her.I woke up screaming every night for months on end.

Why do you do this kind of thing?I asked. Shave your legs?Don't you think it helps to relax? That's not what I'm asking. Why mention Daisy?Anne, it's good to talk about this kind of thing. Another burst of doubts about how such a thing happened swept through my mind.How could I take a hot bath, let an idiot shave my legs, and listen to him persuade me to have the courage to pour out my thoughts.How in the world can such a shit happen? Stand up and put one leg on the edge of the bathtub, Anne. I shivered in the cold air and watched the rose-scented vapors rise from my skin.I hate the scent of roses, I have hated it since I was a kid.

What about this pervert? He started humming. I want to push him away.I wanted to break his face with my knees.Reluctantly, my eyes were fixed on the shining blade.He didn't hurt me, only his nails hurt me a little bit when he grabbed my hips to keep me from moving, but my chest swelled to the point of bursting with fear. I went to a doctor a few years ago and the old doctor had only treated me once before that.He was going to do a smear and I can still remember lying down with his head between my legs.The old doctor's hobby is to fly planes on holidays, and the clinic is filled with pictures of various planes.He poked me with a cold instrument and said: Imagine an airplane.When the pervert shaves my legs, my mind is full of airplanes.

After shaving my legs, he rinsed me off, led me out of the tub, and dried me gently with a towel.Then he unlocked the closet, took out a large bottle of lotion, and started rubbing it on me. Very comfortable, right? I got goosebumps.His hands ran all over my body, gliding, rubbing the lotion into my skin. Please stop.Please Why should I say stop and stop?He smiled when he finished speaking.His movements are slow and orderly, not sparing an inch of skin. Enough lotion, he walks away, leaving me standing on the tasteless pink fluffy mat.I feel like a greased pig and smell like fucking roses.After a while, he came back with a pile of clothes.

He told me to put on a pair of white lace panties, not slimlines or thongs, just regular panties.He made me wear a strapless bra of the same color, with cups that fit my size.He took a step back, looked me up and down, and clapped his hands together to congratulate him on his success.Then he handed me a dress in virgin white that I would probably like before I got kidnapped.Seriously, that dress is beautiful, it feels expensive, it looks like the one worn by Marilyn Monroe, only less obscene, it belongs to the good girl version. Go round and round. Seeing that I was not moving, he raised his eyebrows and drew circles in the air with his index finger. When I circled in place, the white dress fluttered. He nodded in satisfaction, and then raised his hand to ask me to stop. After he took me out of the bathroom, I saw that he had cleared all my photos, and the big box was gone.A few candles on the floor, dimly lit, made one thing look gigantic: the bed.When you are ready, just wait for someone to lie down. I must try to break his heart, and buy a little time before I am rescued.Someone must find me. If there is no rush, when we have a better understanding of each other, I said, it will feel more special when we do it. Take it easy, Anne, there's nothing to be afraid of. Mr. Rogers (Annotation: Mr. Rogers, 1928︱2003, the host of the PTV program "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood") actually said that today is the most suitable sunny day to slaughter all the neighbors. He turned me around and started unzipping the white dress.I started to cry, not sobs, but silly whimpers.He kissed my neck as the zipper came down to the end of my lower waist.I shuddered.he laughed. He let the dress fall to the floor.When he unbuttoned my bra, I tried to break free from him, but he held my waist tightly and clasped it firmly.His other hand came around and cupped my breasts.Tears wet my face, and when one of them landed on his hand, he turned me to face him. He stretched his tear-stained hand to his lips, opened his mouth to taste it, paused for a second, smiled and said: salty. don't want.Please, don't.I am really scared. He turned me around and asked me to sit on the edge of the bed.He didn't look me in the eyes, just stared at my body.A bead of sweat rolled down his face, dripped from his chin, and landed on my lap.I desperately wanted to wipe it off, but I was too scared to move.He knelt on the floor and started asking for kisses. He tastes like stale coffee. I squirmed and tried to break free, but his lower body rubbed against my lower body with double the force. He finally left my mouth.Rejoicing, I took a deep breath, only to find him standing up and starting to undress at the same time, the breath in my mouth was choked in my throat. He is not a burly man, but his muscles are obvious, his body is like a person who is used to jogging, and he has no body hair, and his smooth skin shines in the candlelight.He stared at me, and when I spoke I could only stare at him, trembling.His cock began to soften. He grabbed my knees and pushed me upside down on the bed.He spread my legs with his knees and clamped one of my hands between the two of them. With his left hand, he pinned my other hand above the back of my head and put his elbow on my bicep. I wanted to turn around and shake my hips to break free, but he pressed my thigh with his calf.He freed one hand and started tugging at my panties. I tapped into my brain's memory bank, frantically searching for my knowledge of rapists.Rapists seem to pursue power, but rapists are divided into several categories, and each type of rapist pursues different things.I can't remember.Why can't I remember?If I beg him no matter how hard I try, can I at least tell him to wear a condom? stop!I have his chest pressing my fist into the solar plexus of my chest.I exclaimed, there is a disease.a venereal disease.If you don't stop, you will be passed He ripped off my panties.I started to writhe.he smiles. I was almost out of breath, so I stopped struggling and took a big gulp of breath.I gotta brain, I gotta concentrate, I gotta figure it out His smile started to fade. Then I understood.The more I reacted, the more aroused he became.I force myself to stop shaking.I stop crying.I stop.I imagined an airplane.It wasn't long before he noticed. He elbowed me hard enough to nearly break my arm, but I just kept silent.He stretched my thighs further apart, trying to get inside me, but he went limp.I noticed a mole on his shoulder with a hair growing out of it. He gritted his teeth, protruding his jaw muscles, and shouted in a deep voice: Call my name.I am silent.I refuse to call my dad's name to this idiot.Even if he can control my body, I can't let him control my words. How you feel, say it. I continued to stare at him.He turned my face away. Dont look at me. He wanted to force himself in again.I think of the mole with only one hair.I passed the stage of fear, into hysteria, and giggled.He'd be mad enough to kill me, but I couldn't stop it.The giggles turned into laughter. The body on top of me froze.My line of sight is still fixed to the side, looking at the opposite wall.He instantly covered my mouth with a hand and turned my face to face him, squeezing my lips between my upper and lower teeth.He pushed harder.I taste salty. Bitch!He yelled and sprayed my face with saliva.Then, his face changed again.All signs of life disappeared.He jumped out of bed, blew out all the candles, and muffled into the bathroom.Not long after, I heard the sound of water from the shower head. I ran to the front door and tried the handle.locked.The sound of the shower head stopped, my heart started pounding again, and I rushed back to bed.I faced the wall, sucking my bleeding lips and crying, blood and tears mixed together.He lay down next to me, and the bed sunk down. He lamented: "My God, I love this place.It's so quiet here I added an extra layer of soundproofing so I couldn't even hear the crickets. Please take me home.I won't tell anyone.I swear.please. I have the sweetest dreams here. He was close to my waist, put one leg on mine, held my hands, and fell into a deep sleep.I lay with this naked pervert hugging me, hoping that the bed would crack open and eat me from head to toe.My arms are hurting, my face is hurting, my heart is hurting.I cried until I fell asleep. There's still time for treatment, but I'm done.Yes, I remember next week is Christmas, you don't see a doctor.It doesn't matter if I don't see a doctor, I just hope to take a break and not touch this stupid thing.As I narrate to you, I am obliged to revisit old events.If I just avoid it, the burden on my heart will be lighter. At least I can lie to myself that I can relax for about half a second by lightening the burden.Escaping from this event is like closing a door against a mighty river.At first, the river trickled in through the cracks, and in an instant the entire door was broken.What I am doing now is to open seams to divert part of the river water. I wonder if the big water will wash in?If I let go of all the burdens in my mind, will I be swept away by the river?Never mind, I just want to go home and take a hot shower right now.After I take a shower, I will probably take another shower.