“…and then my mom died, and my stepdad could have his way with us”
Group session, and Deb, very unwillingly, had to be a part of it.
“Thank you, Stephenie” the leader said. “It was very brave of you, to share that with us. Who wants to go next?”
Every word of it, went over Debra’s head. She was sitting on her chair, her knees up, as a support for her sketchbook. She had required one, the moment she had the opportunity, and surprisingly enough, they had diberikan her one.
Deb heard some distinct voices-some dude talking about his dad, shooting himself in the head-whilst she drew, feverishly....
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