She Said It Was Therapy, They Signed A Pardon Chapter 01
It had been three years since I was diagnosed with severe depression, and my parents still didn’t dare leave me alone.
Three years ago, my adopted sister stole my photos for an online relationship. The man turned out to be a stalker. He mistook me for her and assaulted me.
Afterward, my parents kicked her out of the house. Mom nailed every window shut and didn’t let me near them for three years. Dad quit his job to stay with me. He locked up all the kitchen knives.
Three years later, my sister came back with a psychology counseling certificate. She knelt at the door and cried, saying it was all her fault. She said she’d spent those years studying psychology so she could come back, cure me, and apologize in person.
Eventually, Mom and Dad let her in.
She said keeping the windows sealed for three years would only make my depression worse. So Mom pulled the nails out and opened every window. Dad put the kitchen knives back in the kitchen, the ones he had kept locked away for three years.
“You need to learn to push those dark thoughts down yourself.”
Then came what she called the final exposure exercise.[中式“脱敏治疗”直译，而且后文主要用 exposure therapy。建议统一。]
My sister brought back the man from three years ago and locked him in my bedroom with me.
I slammed my fists against the door, begging them to let me out.
Through the door, I heard my sister whisper, “Just hang in there one more time, and everything will be okay.”
Mom and Dad sighed.
“Yes.”
“Once this is over, we’ll all be free.”
Tears filled my eyes. I slowly let go of the door.
I stared at the wide-open window and stopped fighting.
***
The door finally opened. The man slowly got dressed.
Before leaving, he looked back at me with a malicious grin.
“Back then, I was sentenced to ten years. But your parents hired me a top lawyer and pulled strings until I made parole early.”[中国刑事制度残留]
“Looks like I treated you too well three years ago. After all this time, you still wanted me back.”
He squeezed my bruised waist and smiled.
“I took some pictures for my buddies. They’re dying to meet you. Maybe I’ll bring them next time.”
Then he laughed and walked out.
Mom and Dad rushed in a second later.
Mom saw me sitting on the edge of the bed. My clothes were torn. My skin was covered in marks.
But I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t screaming. I just stared at the window she had opened with her own hands.
The color drained from Mom’s face. She walked over, her voice shaking.
“Ivy? Why… why are you so quiet?”
I didn’t answer.
My sister clapped her hands behind me.
“It worked!” She looked at Mom and Dad, beaming. “This proves desensitization therapy works! Ivy can finally face her trauma. She’s accepted it. She’s cured!”
Mom froze for two seconds. The fear in her eyes slowly disappeared, replaced by relief.
“Really?” She let out a long breath. “That’s wonderful. These three years you’ve dragged us down—”
She stopped mid-sentence, as if realizing what she’d said.
The room went quiet.
Dad pretended not to hear. He patted my shoulder with satisfaction.
“It’s good you’ve moved on. Since you can face the past now, and since your sister helped you get better, let’s leave it behind.”
He glanced at my sister. “She hurt you, but now she’s saved you. That makes up for it. No one should talk about three years ago anymore. And stop holding it over her. Don’t make her live with guilt forever.”
I kept my head down and said nothing.
My sister’s eyes welled up. She bit her lip and looked at me carefully.
“Sis, you still haven’t forgiven me, have you? If seeing me hurts, I’ll leave today. I’ll never come back or show my face to you again.”
She turned to go.
Mom immediately grabbed her. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
Dad frowned at me. “Ivy, back then we were afraid seeing her would remind you of that night, so we sent her away for three years. She had no home. She struggled alone. That’s enough suffering. Now you’re better. What’s left to hold onto?”
Mom held my sister’s hand and urged, “Tell your sister you don’t blame her anymore.”
My chest felt like it was being crushed.
I suddenly remembered three years ago.
When they kicked my adopted sister out, Mom held me and cried all night.
She said, “I only kept her to give you a companion. I never thought I’d raised a thankless wretch who hurt my own child. Ivy, I’ll never forgive her.”
Dad locked the knives away and said, “I want you to live well. I swear I’ll never let you get hurt again.”
So “never” only lasted three years.
I slowly lifted my head.
My sister was waiting for my answer. Mom and Dad watched nervously, like the family couldn’t be whole again until I spoke.
I looked at them for a long time.
Finally, I forced the corner of my mouth up.
“Fine. I forgive you.”
