The Price Of The Truth

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ag on the couch and stretched her sore muscles. Her mind was heavy, burdened by memories she wished she

away the exhaustion but not the thoughts swirling in her head. She closed her eyes, letting the steam engulf

l, strong and black. She moved mechanically, pouring the hot liquid into her favorite mug and taking a seat on t

n the screen until a particular scene caught her attention. A young girl was being forced t

tried to bury c

an life had given her. She had been unsatisfied with Jessica's father, seeing

mother's voice echoed in her mind, condescending and laced with bitterness. "If yo

er would leave late at night, wearing dresses too short and heels too high, smelling of cheap perfume and desperatio

night, everyth

sica had been fourteen, sitting at the tiny dini

apped, grabbing the notebook from

aken her to a bar-a dingy, smoke-filled place with men whos

of them had said,

. A drink had been forced into her hands. "Just drink it, Jessi

her memories should have been. She only knew that when she had woken up, h

er coffee mug. Her breathing grew erratic, her chest tig

eiz

er mind, the crushing weight of her memories

uch. The prescription bottle was there, just within reach. Her fingers fumbl

r body convulsing. The attack lasted for minutes that felt like hours.

one. No one had been there to help her, t

ike ba

led, but it never truly went away. She wipe

ever escap