“What happened after you left?” she asks.
“I went straight to my sister’s house,” I say. “I just… needed to be somewhere I wasn’t alone.”
Her expression softens. “Were they home?”
“Yeah. Both of my sisters were there with their husbands.” I hesitate, then add, “They were actually in the middle of game night with a couple of our friends.”
She tilts her head slightly. “Were you supposed to be there?”
I nod. “Yeah. I would’ve been if not for the date.” My fingers tighten together in my lap, the memory still sitting weird in my chest. “I remember standing in my bedroom debating what to wear, thinking maybe this could finally be… something,” I admit quietly. “Like maybe I might’ve met someone who could actually be the one. Someone solid. Normal. Someone who fit into my real life.” My throat tightens. “I was so wrong.”
Dr. Palmer lets that sit for a moment before speaking. “That sounds like a loss on top of the fear.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “It wasn’t just about being scared. It was realizing how wrong my judgment was. How fast something I thought was good turned into something that wasn’t.”
“And instead of game night with people who love you,” she adds gently, “you ended up in a situation that made you feel unsafe.”
I nod, my jaw tightening. “Exactly.”
“What happened when you got to your sister’s house?”
“They took care of me” I say.
“Have you talked to your parents about what happened?” she asks gently.
The question lands strange in my chest. I shake my head. “They died when I was nineteen.”
Her expression softens immediately. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It’s just me and my sisters now. That’s it. I’m the oldest, so I’ve always been the one who handled things. Took care of everyone.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility to carry at such a young age.”
“It is,” I admit. “I’m used to being the steady one. The one who doesn’t fall apart.”
“And how does it feel to be the one who needed protecting this time?” she asks.
The question sticks in my throat for a second before I answer. “Uncomfortable,” I say honestly.
Dr. Palmer studies me carefully. Not suspicious. Just attentive. “Did you contact the police?”
The question hits like a small punch to the chest. My throat goes dry and I have to swallow before answering.
“No.”
“Can you tell me why?”
I shift in the chair. My fingers tighten together until my knuckles ache. “Because I didn’t want to deal with it. The paperwork. The questions. The whole… aftermath.” I hesitate, my fingers tightening together in my lap. “Can I ask you something kind of… important?” I say.
Dr. Palmer looks up from her tablet. “Of course.”
“This is confidential, right?” My voice drops a notch without me meaning it to. “Like… you can’t tell anyone what I say in here?”
She nods. “Yes. What you share with me stays private unless there’s a safety concern.”
I swallow. “What kind of safety concern?”
“If you tell me you’re planning to seriously harm yourself or someone else,” she explains calmly, “or if a child or vulnerable person is being abused, or if a court legally requires records. Those are the situations where I’m obligated to act.”
