Chapter 15 - The Buried Trauma
Olivia looked up at me, wiping her mascara-stained cheeks.
"I told the police everything,"
Olivia confessed, her voice gaining a tiny shred of bravery.
"I told them about the abuse we suffered when we were kids. I told them about the time Mom locked you in the basement for twelve hours because you argued with her."
My breath hitched. I had actively suppressed that memory for over two decades.
"You remembered that?"
I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"I remember you screaming, begging to be let out,"
Olivia cried.
"I asked Dad to unlock the door, and he told me you were learning a lesson in respect. I was five years old. I learned that if I ever crossed them, I would end up in the dark too."
We spent the next two hours talking. It was a painful, horrific excavation of our childhood, digging up the rotting foundation our parents had built our lives upon.
But it was necessary. We validated each other's trauma. We acknowledged the abuse that had been disguised as "strict parenting" for thirty years.
"The defense attorney called me,"
May you like
Olivia said before she left.
"He screamed at me for betraying the family. I hung up on him, and I blocked their numbers. I won't lie for them anymore."
