(Trigger Warning: This post addresses the topic of sexual abuse and recovery.)
I made the decision to show my accountability partner “the room.” Hidden. Dirty. Neglected. Wielding a power it didn’t deserve.
We got out of the car and approached the house. I was silent as I unlocked the door. Tears welled up as we walked through the building. Dread made each step heavy. I could hardly comprehend that my friend was stepping into “the room.”
He looked around. Measuring what he saw. Silent for a moment or two.
“Tell me what happened here.”
“This is where….”
We stayed in that room for some time. Our conversation breaking the power of secrecy.
We stepped out of the room.
We walked away. My steps far lighter than before.