The Ninth Piece Freedon with Chains: Part Three (Trigger Warning)

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Time and I never had the best relationship and after our confession, an opportunity for a mutual agreement was long gone. Our days were engulfed with courtrooms, family breakdowns, interviews, and psychologists. It seemed as if life was punishing my sister and I for…trying. Our efforts were looked down on, not praised. Our truth were lies cultivated and shielded by our mother’s pride.

The days when we were summoned in the courtrooms were the most difficult. Our mother made sure our lines were rehearsed and memorised. I hated the feeling of guilt that pierced my stomach sitting in that podium and repeating the same phrases:

Nothing happened.

It’s all lies.

We love our daddy and we want him to come back home.

All I can say is that my mother is a master manipulator and we, unwillingly, followed her steps. Before we knew it, rehearsal was unnecessary; the words glided out of our mouths, but the pain did not vanish. Besides the courtrooms and frequent visits to a psychologist, our family was quickly breaking apart. My older brother found comfort in drugs and his group of friends, so my mother used the rest of her free time watching out for him, bailing him out of jail and guiding him to thr correct path which he found little understanding in. On the other hand, my little brother conserved himself to the fullest; he enclosed himself from us, both emotionally and mentally. My little sister was in the middle of the storm; she was trying to find her place in an environment consisted of chaos. The one thing we had in common is the fact that we were all drifting apart; whether it was an inevitable path of life or just the mere fact of not being able to face each other with the truth, we continued to create a gap between us.

The one day we all came together as a ‘family’ was when we made our secret visits to our father. These specific days made me realize how quickly I lost the battle for justice. My mother found some way to visit him when there were strict prohibition of our contact. The days that we visited and slept over at his place created the illusion of the perfect family. We all laughed and bonded as though the world around us did not change a bit. I never knew if my siblings feeling were sincere when were all enclosed in that small room. The echoes of laughter, the uniform smiles, the hugs… The truth is, I was numb to everything that occurred around me. I wondered why my father wss acting like the perfect father. I wondered why he did not try to lay one hand on me during the nights that we stayed with him or why he did not dare to look at me once. Overall, I didn’t know how to feel about the whole situation, so in the end I gave up.

After about two years, the courtrooms stopped and my father and two uncles were sent back to their country. Even though I had the luxury of not seeing my perpetrators anymore, my mind and body did not correlatw. While my body moved forward, my mind continuously jumped from different time spans; the past being a top favorite.

Now that I think about it…we all mastered the skill of manipulation.

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