“They had to fill me in on what happened.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“Everything got worse afterwards. I had a complete mental breakdown. I was admitted to the hospital’s psychiatric ward.”
“Were you …”
I shake my head.
“No, I never thought about taking my own life or anything like that. But I just felt … tired. Drained. I didn’t want to do anything. Once I was discharged, my parents took me back home to Michigan.
“For weeks I did nothing but sit in my room. I barely brushed my teeth. My mother called me a drama queen. My father told me I needed to suck it up and get it together.”
I ball my hands into fists.
“But I couldn’t. I wanted to just shake it off, but the thought of even leaving the house would send me into another panic attack. Needless to say, I lost the job opportunity at the investment bank.
“After two months of this, my parents finally agreed to pay for me to see a therapist.”
“Did things get better after that?”
“Not immediately,” I admit. “By then videos of what happened at graduation began to circulate on the internet. One YouTuber with a decent-sized following showed it, and I began getting really ugly messages from people I didn’t even know.”
A cold, sinister look passes over Andreas’ face.
“Fuck that motherfucker.”
His tone makes me shiver. I reach out to place my hand over his racing heart.
“They were just some internet trolls.”
I try to play it off, but the expression on Andreas’ face tells me he’s not buying it. “Fine, they were a little more than that. They were vile.
“It took months for it to die down. I didn’t tell anyone except for Dr. King about it for a long, long time. When I told my mom, she said that I deserved it for embarrassing the family the way I did.”
My bottom lip starts to tremble from remembering the coldness in her eyes and tone as she said those words to me.
“Your mom?” Andreas asks as if for clarification.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yes.”
He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me.
“It’s not as bad as I’m making it sound,” I defend out of habit. “My mother and father are both very successful and accomplished. All they’ve ever wanted for me and my siblings is to live up to the life they’ve provided for us.”
Andreas grunts but doesn’t say anything. Still, I feel his increased heartbeat through his chest.
“Honestly,” I look up at him. “They’ve always had high standards for us. We were taken care of very well and I never wanted for anything.”
“Except to be seen,” Andreas says.
My lips part with a comeback but nothing comes out.
“You were provided for materially, but not in the other ways that mattered. Especially not when it counted the most. You couldn’t even share with them that you were being horribly bullied online without receiving more ridicule from them to your face.”
My gut tells me I need to respond. Andreas hasn’t even met them. I shouldn’t let him speak about them like this.
Yet, I can’t find the energy or the motivation to defend them.
