Stockholm syndrome is defined as feelings of trust or affection felt in certain cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim toward a captor. No, Ashland wasn’t a kidnapped victim, but she felt it was the best way for her to describe why she kept coming back to Jim. She hated what he was doing to her and wanted it to stop, but she also cared for him. Or believed she did. He was her abuser, but he also played the role of her friend and brother.
For an entire year of Ashland’s life, Jim had been controlling and abusing her. She wanted it to end, but he had to be the one to let her go. It was the only way to make it stop. She was his special toy, though, and he wasn’t going to discard her easily. You see, he got her when she was brand new and he loved that he’d been the only one to play with her. So, Ashland came up with a plan to take some of the shine off Jim’s favorite toy. She thought once she was soiled by others, he would lose interest.
This is how Ashland ended up with Adrian—the boy that would show her what love really is, the boy that would save her. He was meant to be the first of many, but Adrian wanted more than Ashland’s body, he wanted her heart. Only she wasn’t sure she had one anymore.
Ashland viewed Adrian as nothing more than a means to an end, she had no clue how much he would change her—or that meeting him would be the beginning of the end for Jim.
She was so sure that Adrian’s presence in her life would turn Jim off, that he would finally release his hold on her, but it didn’t. The night she took Adrian to meet her sister, Jim showed up and the wrath radiating from him was so intense that Ashland feared her sister would notice. It wasn’t her sister that took note, though, it was Adrian.
While Ashland’s sister had Adrian occupied with conversation, Jim found Ashland and cornered her as he’d done many times before.
“What are you trying to prove bringing that kid here? Did you think because you let him fuck you that I’d get jealous?”
Before Ashland could respond, Adrian called out for her. Jim didn’t move right away like he would have if anyone else had entered the room, he wanted Adrian to see—for him to know that Ashland was damaged goods, and once she met Adrian’s eyes, she knew he had.
When Ashland met Adrian, she told him the same story she’d told many of her friends—that she’d gotten involved with a guy that had a girlfriend and was trying to end things. So, after Adrian saw her around Jim, it wasn’t hard to figure out.
Ashland didn’t try to deny it when Adrian asked on the way home that night if Jim was the guy from her story. It was almost a relief for her to finally be able to openly tell someone the truth, and that’s exactly what she did. Ashland spilled her guts that night, told Adrian everything from start to finish, including how she’d been with Jim the very day they’d met.
He was quiet and visibly upset by everything she told him, and Ashland dropped Adrian off that night feeling certain that she’d never hear from him again. The next day he came to her dorm and said the four words Ashland needed to hear the most, “it’s not your fault”. Then Adrian said three more that Ashland wasn’t ready to hear, “I love you”.
Farewell
With a deep breath, I blink the tears from my eyes then reach for a Kleenex to dry my face. This isn’t the first time Ashland’s story has resonated with me, but it’s the first time I’ve felt it related to my present-day life. I love you. I never put much stock in those three words until I heard them from Steven. I believe hearing those words transformed Ashland, just as I believe they’ve changed me. Or at least, they made me want to evolve.
For so long I’ve let everything that happened with Paul keep me closed off. The possibility of love seemed so far out of reach for me, that it didn’t even matter. Now, there’s someone trying to get in—someone I want to let in, but if I’m going to open the door to my heart, I must first clear all the obstacles around it. The biggest one being Paul.
My decision to stay silent about what happened with him all those years ago is set in stone. I have no desire to share my pain with others. Besides, where’s the justice in freeing myself of a burden knowing that it will fall on others? Paul has a wife and children, and I’m not sure how I would feel dumping that on them. It would likely add to the weight on my shoulders instead of lightening it.
Still, I can’t deny that something needs to be done. Ignoring my pain was a great plan for surviving, but it doesn’t leave much room for thriving. So, I’ve spent the past couple days considering my options, and I remembered something Julianna said her therapist once asked her to do. Dr. Gentry suggested writing a letter to Jim, even though she could never give it to him, could be a way for her to voice her grievances—to put all her thoughts and feelings about what he’d done to her on paper and essentially help cleanse her of them.
That’s exactly what I need. Putting those words to paper won’t be easy, and Paul may never read them. Still, it may very well be what I need to break the hold my past has on me.
Paul,
I’m writing you to say all the things I’ve been too afraid to before now. For seventeen years, I’ve been lying to myself and everyone around me. I’ve been running from the truth because admitting what you did means admitting I’m a victim, and it turns out that isn’t as easy as people might think.
Now, I’ve found someone who loves me, and I need to purge myself of your venom. The time has come to face the truth. So, here it is. Seventeen years ago, you set your sights on me. I came to you a naïve, young girl looking for guidance, and you used me to fulfill your own sick desires.
You saw my weaknesses—my need to be seen and cared for—and you used that against me. Every compliment and encouraging word, merely smoke and mirrors so I wouldn’t see what was coming. You made me believe you cared about me, and made me care about you, knowing it would keep me confused and quiet when you went in for the kill.
Then you did things to my body, things that had never been done, things I never wanted. I’ve asked myself so many times why I didn’t fight back, why I let you do those things to me. But how do you fight a monster you can’t even see?
The man who taught me, who helped me, was also the man who hurt me, who had broken me. That isn’t easy information to process. I loved the man who took me under his wing. Acknowledging that he was you, that you were him, meant accepting that man never existed.
Maybe I’ve kept your secret all these years to protect myself. Perhaps I’ve chosen my career and livelihood over the pursuit of justice. But that is a choice I never should’ve had to make. And I’m done feeling guilty for wanting to survive.
I want you to know I’m not looking for your admission of guilt. I finally realize my truth is the only truth that matters. And I don’t want or need your apologies. That girl, the one you did those horrible things to, she’s gone, you killed her. You can never make amends.
I hope you’re not remorseful, that you aren’t praying for forgiveness. I’m not that gracious. I want you to suffer in hell like I’ve done all these years.
No, this letter is for me, to set me free. I’ll no longer let what you did hold me back. I’m proud of the woman I’ve become. You tore me down, but I’ve worked to put myself back together. Piece by piece, I’ve become stronger than I ever would have been—than I ever thought possible. Because of you, and what you did, I know I’m strong enough to weather any storm.
Farewell,
Lori