Sophia’s POV
It was a fine afternoon, I was seated in Dr. Amelia Wilson’s waiting room. The therapist Daisy had recommended to me. I figured if I was going to make my relationship with Harry work, I needed to stop pining after Ivan. I’m sure he doesn’t even think of me, alright, maybe he does because he lost the leverage he had over my father, but that was it.
I’m sure he wasn’t daydreaming about our time together, missing our kisses, or wanting my touches. I’m sure he doesn’t miss me like I do miss him. None of that, it was just me, because I’m so silly. Daisy and Nick say it isn’t normal, they said it was like a toxic codependency thing. I also googled it and they weren’t entirely wrong, what I feel is an inconvenience and I had to rid myself of it.
Shaking off my thoughts, I glanced around the waiting area, on the other end, by my left, a young guy sat on the edge of his seat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap and he waited anxiously for his turn.
The door of Dr. Amelia’s office swung open and her receptionist peeked her head out with a warm smile. “Miss Sophia,” she called softly. “You’re up next.”
I stood up and picked up my bag. “Thank you,” I said as I walked past her into the office.
The office was well decorated, and its pastel colour walls added warmth to the atmosphere. It was a comfortable office.
“Hello, Miss Sophia.” Dr. Amelia was a middle-aged woman with warm eyes and a kind smile. “Please take a seat she said, gesturing to the plush armchair across from her.
“Hi,” I replied.
“Alright, let’s get started,” she said as she opened the book on her lap. “Can we talk about why you’re here today, Sophia?” Her voice was soft and reassuring.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, thinking of the best way to start. Seriously, how do you tell a total stranger you slept with your captor, severally and enjoyed it every single time? And now you’re confused about what you feel for him?
“Uh…” I started. “Well, I don’t think it’s exactly a secret that I went missing. Some people think it’s a mere rumour, but I was actually kidnapped.” I paused. “Wait, I can’t disclose his name, that’s not necessary for this therapy session, right?”
She hummed her response.
“Well a lot happened while I was there…” I took a long breath.
“Go on, please,” she probed gently.
“Okay,” I explained in detail what had happened to me in these past months, from the business dinner to getting kidnapped, while she listened patiently, jotting down on her book now and then.
“…I-I started getting too close to him,” I confessed, my face flushed with embarrassment.
“Getting too close… What do you mean?”
“We started having sex and I liked it a lot,” I blurted out.
“He didn’t rape you, did he?” Her voice was neutral but her eyes were searching mine.
“He didn’t, I know he’s not that type of person. I mean, he’s bad, he kills, he’s a mobster so he’s done terrible things. But I know he’d never rape anyone,” I said, biting my bottom lips shyly.
She wrote down something before she raised her gaze to mine. “So you do trust him.” She said firmly. She wasn’t asking, she was sure of it.
My gaze fell to my hands and I shrugged. “I guess so, I think I trust him a lot.” Then I peeked up to look at her, her eyes held no judgment which was really a big relief. So I continued, “He did terrify me in the beginning, I’d wanted nothing to do with him but I had started wanting him.”
“To be honest, I do agree that isolation leading to total dependency on your captor and power imbalance in your relationship with your captor couldn’t be right or healthy, you do not display the behaviours or symptoms of someone who is a victim of Stockholm syndrome,” she said. “You never made him seem like a good man, you’re not making excuses for him. I know the cases under this syndrome differ, but victims of Stockholm syndrome don’t want to be rescued.”
“But I… I’m getting married soon and he’s all I could think about and I compare them all the time. It’s like he ruined me for every other man and I need to make this marriage work. It’s important to me,” I protested.
“Do you feel these things for your husband-to-be?” She asked calmly.
I dropped my gaze. “Harry… he’s very good-looking, supportive, kind, patient, sweet. He’s everything I should want, any woman should want in fact. But I don’t feel that connection or maybe it’s too soon to feel anything with someone new,” I said wearily.
“What about sex with him?”
I laughed awkwardly. “No… no, we’ve barely known each other for just three weeks. But we’ve been out on a few dates. We are both willing to make this relationship work,” I explained. “We’ve never even kissed,” I added awkwardly.
She nodded and scribbled on her book. “And how long did it take for you to be attracted to your captor or actually indulge in any sexual activities with him?” She asked, staring right into my soul.
My ears burned as I flushed with embarrassment. “Uh… I-I two weeks?”
She looked pensive. “I see.” She leaned back in her seat. “Sophia, it’s not uncommon for survivors to develop some feelings of attachment to their captor, especially in a situation like yours. You were both attracted to each other. Now this may not always be the case, in some things, it’s merely infatuation.”
“But, he’s… he’s a criminal. Surely I’m not so foolish to have feelings for him,” I protested weakly.
“Lines can get blurred, Sophia. Right or wrong, love or hate, there’s only a thin line between them until it gets blurred and everything seems grey,” she explained gently.
I felt even more confused, not because of her words, but because I really didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I didn’t know what to do. “So what happens now? I’m so confused and conflicted,” I said weakly.
“We’ll take it one step at a time. I’m here to help, you don’t have to worry,” she said softly.
Soon, her timer went off, indicating it was time to end today’s session. I waved her goodbye and headed home. I felt lighter explaining myself to someone in detail but it didn’t mean my issues had been resolved.
Okay maybe I wasn’t a victim of Stockholm syndrome, but nothing about my relationship with Ivan was safe.
What do I tell our children when they ask how we met?
Hey sweetie, your dad hated your grandpa and he abducted me so he could have his revenge, and boom! We fell in love?
Wait a minute? Did I really just think of having Ivan’s kids? God help me. Now I wanted kids with someone who could put them in harm’s way? Hell no.