Frankie doesn’t realise that her voice has been getting louder and louder. Her emotions are boiling over. She’s so angry that she feels a compelling need to hit out at her father and hurt him as much as he hurt her, she can’t even do that because he is dead. He escaped the punishment that her very being needs to inflict upon that cruel, perverted and selfish apology for a human being!
She feels the heat rising within her. Her face burns. Perspiration slides down her forehead and into the corners of her eyes, which start to smart. She’s trembling and feels as if she is going to burst from the anger inside her. Then the tears come. They wash away the perspiration from her eyes, but now her eyes sting as the mascara drips from her eyelashes.
An arm slides around Frankie’s shoulder and holds her tightly. She hears a gentle shushing noise coming from the counsellor who is sitting on the arm of her chair.
“Take some deep breaths, Frankie,” she instructs.
Frankie obeys. The anger gradually subsides and is replaced with a feeling of numb shock, quickly followed by intense exhaustion. The counsellor passes her a wodge of tissues. She wipes her eyes, seeing the mascara clotting on the tissues.
“There’s a mirror behind you, Frankie,” says the counsellor. Frankie stands and turns around, wiping her cheeks until the black ‘tramlines’ are gone.
“Do you feel able to continue?” the soothing voice enquires.
Frankie realises that although exhausted, she feels somehow lighter. She has set free thoughts that have been haunting her for over forty years, and to her surprise, the world has not spiralled into self-destruction. The counsellor doesn’t look in the least bit shocked. She remains as calm as ever. Frankie considers the question for a few seconds and decides that yes, she is fine to continue, and in fact very much wants to.
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