Stockholm Syndrome

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.