Unfiltered Story #242162

(I am 13 at this time and have been attending therapy. It isn’t going well, for many reasons including that attendance was mandatory, I did not consent to it, and the therapist is a pervert. Then, this happens after my “private” meeting).

Mom: So why did you tell Dr Lester-the-Molester you are depressed???

Me:… How do you know what I said? Those meetings are private.

Mom: OBVIOUSLY. You’re 13 you don’t get privacy. Do you want me to make sure you know that lesson?

Me:… Not necessary.

Mom: You know, I work so hard for you. I work and I feed you and I keep a roof over your head. And you have NOTHING to be depressed about!

Me: *stoic/knowing she’s trying to start a fight* I agree with you. I don’t have a reason to feel depressed. Maybe he made that up when he had his hand under my skirt.

Mom: *explosive scream* HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE HIM OF THAT! YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HIM.

Me: You don’t know him either. I’m going to bed.

Mom: it’s 2pm you don’t need to sleep.

Me: I’m exhausted. I don’t have work to do. I’m going to sleep.

Mom: fine! Sleep then!

(I went to my room, shut and locked the door, and went to bed. I woke up to my mother breaking the door down with an axe. She then took it off its hinges and refused to replace it for a year).