Her story broke my heart. It was one of pain, brokenness, loss, sorrow, loneliness – all carefully hidden under a mask of anger and bitterness. From her blazing eyes and the way she yelled at me, the mask was all I saw. But from her words, the buried pain was obvious. She’d survived sexual assault. She’d had an abortion. And it had happened when she was only eight years old.
What could I say? I could do nothing to take away her pain. I couldn’t even imagine what she was going through. I couldn’t begin to understand how much the memory hurt.