Stockholm Syndrome is when a captive alligns with their captor for self preservation.
They wanted me to get on the stand and testify against Daddy. I was not about to. These strangers who wanted to hug me made me sick. I did not know them; they felt like aliens. I have nightmares now. I want to go back home. “He’s not even related to you!” the woman said. I hate her more now than I did yesterday Which I did not know was possible. This is your father, she said, pointing to the weird guy. I am your mother. He stole you when you were only three. I jumped when she said this. Her voice scares me. It is whiny and begging; a stranger’s voice. He is my DADDY! I screamed at them. I ran back to the room where they kept me. Plopped down in the corner and put the blanket over my eyes. Something caught my eye. A stuffed frog. Wilbur, I said. Not knowing why. It was as weird as they were. I wanted my DADDY. I hated these strangers.
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.