and the pain every time a new tear glided on her cheek,
the rage when she was describing the incident
and the shame when she was blaming herself for horrible thing that happened to her.
I kept telling her over and over that it’s not her fault. The one who must be blamed is her rapist. I hugged her and said that is going to be okay – the mother of all white lies, the thing that I can’t actually promise. Told her that there are still good people who are willing to help her and care about her. That she needs to keep filling the hourglass with the spirit to continue her life and fight for her future. That it’s not the end.
She looked at herself in the mirror. She said she’s afraid that the hourglass couldn’t contain all rage and despair and agony she has, and it will break.
It will break eventually.
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