“Now, would you like to tell me what happened?”

Robert stared at the counselor blankly. How could he tell her?

She wouldn’t understand. No one could. What could he say? Robert shook his head.

The counselor sighed and then folded her hands on her lap.

“I heard your mother passed a few years ago…does it have anything to do with that?”

He froze, and then the memories came rushing back.

<i>“Your mother’s gone now…things are going to have to change, Bobby.”

Robert shivered with fear. He had never seen his father until this day…his mother never talked about him, and now he was here. What kind of person was he? He wished he wouldn’t call him “Bobby.” Only his mother did that.

It has everything to do with my mother passing,</i> thought Robert.

“Where did you get those bruises on your arms?”

Bobby folded his arms, trying to cover the red scratches and purple bruises that he got from struggling. He lowered his head and looked away.

<i>Not just my arms, my legs, everything. I don’t know what part of my body he didn’t touch. Even when I cried out for my mother and begged him to stop, he wouldn’t. Why? Why did this have to happen to me?</i>

“Is your father hurting you?”
He raised his eyes to the counselor, terrified. How did she know?

<i>“Don’t ignore me!” he had roared. “Get back here! Don’t lock the door! Tell anyone and you’re dead!”

Blood from his nose and blood elsewhere. Robert would scream and then his father would slap him. It was disgusting, it was wrong. He hated him, and soon he hated anyone that looked like his father – who wore white t-shirts and beards…soon he started hating all adult men. Were they all like this?

He stood at the playground alone, avoiding the girls because he was shy and the boys because they pushed everyone aside when they played basketball and football.

“We won!” shrieked a boy. “We totally won, you guys got soo raped.”

And then the blood would go to Robert’s head, and he would look away.</i>

He slowly nodded to the counselor and she looked back at him.


“He’s a monster,” whispered Robert. Tears slid down his face as he talked.


“And how long has this been happening?”


<i>Robert’s mom died when he was seven. And how old was he now? Ten. After a while, it stopped hurting. He could even forget about it if he thought hard enough. He was just a boy, just like everyone else. But the numbness made him feel unreal, like he didn’t exist at all. As if he didn’t deserve to exist.</i>

“Years.”

The counselor’s face contorted with shock and pity. “I’m so sorry. You were…abused by him, weren’t you?”

Robert nodded.

“He beat you?”

He raised his head feebly and then nodded again.

“And raped you?”


Robert covered his face, shaking. “I’m so ashamed.”


The counselor came to his side and hugged him. There was a sad smile on her face.


“It’s alright. I understand.”


And the next five words changed everything for Robert.


“It happened to me, too.”


<i>I promise that things will get better. We won’t let him hurt you anymore.</i>