Treating With Silence Chapter 1

I, Max, a psychotherapist, was attracted by her story and hoped to help her break out of her silence through psychotherapy. I was convinced that only she could tell the truth and only I could make her speak.

Even though behind Alicia's silence is a dark abyss far beyond my imagination, tempting me to go deeper and deeper until there is no return...

When she really starts telling the truth, do I really have the courage to listen?

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How many seemingly perfect couples are waiting for the opportunity to kill each other. A cruel murder, a strange Greek myth; a long silence, a fatal psychological treatment!

Prologue: The Diary of Ava Alicia

July 14

I don't know why I wrote this thing.

It wasn’t. Maybe I knew it, but I just didn’t want to admit it.

I don't even know what to call this thing I've written. To call it a diary seems too pretentious. I don't seem to have much to say. Anne Frank or Samuel Pepys kept diaries, not people like me. To call it a "journal" sounds bookish, and I don't want to keep writing day after day - I would never stick to it if it became a daily task.

Maybe I won't give it a title. I'll write something here and there in this untitled thing. I prefer it that way. Once you give something a name, you become constrained and you don't see the whole picture or its importance; you focus on the words, and the rhetoric is only a small part, just the tip of the iceberg. I've never felt comfortable with words and sentences - I like to think in images, to express myself in images - so if it weren't for Gabriel, I would never have started this thing.

I've been feeling really depressed lately because of a few things. I thought I was hiding it perfectly, but Gabriel noticed it. He must have noticed it, because he can see through everything. He asked me if I had finished the painting - I said no. He poured me a glass of wine and I sat at the kitchen table and watched him cook.

I love watching him in the kitchen. Not only is he a great cook, but he does it with grace and method. Unlike me. I just make a mess.

"Talk to me," he said.

"There's not much to say. Sometimes my mind goes blank and I feel like I'm trudging through mud."

"Why don't you write down what you think? Leave a little record that may be useful in the future."

"I think so. I'll give it a try."

"Don't just talk, honey. Act now."

"I will."

He kept talking to me, but I kept going. A few days later, he gave me this notebook and asked me to write something in it. The black cover of the notebook was thick and blank white. I ran my fingers over the first page, feeling the smoothness of the paper - then I sharpened my pencil and got ready to start writing.

Of course, he was right. I felt much better - writing about these things actually gave me a way to release, an outlet, and a space to express myself. I think this method is similar to psychotherapy.

I know that Gabriel is worried about me, even if he doesn't say it. If I had to be honest - and that's what I should do - I would say that I agreed to write this book only to reassure him that there was nothing wrong with me. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that he's worried about me. I never want to make him feel frustrated, unhappy or miserable. Because I love him more than anything else. He is undoubtedly the love of my life. I love him with all my heart, completely and utterly, and sometimes it consumes me. Sometimes I wonder -

No, I don't want to write these things.

This will be a happy journal of thoughts and images that inspire me, things that have a creative influence on me. I will only record positive, happy, upbeat thoughts.

Can't record those crazy ideas.

Part 1 PAPT ONE

Anyone who can see and hear can convince himself that no one can keep a secret, that even if he keeps silent, his fingertips will speak, and every pore of his body will betray him.

---Sigmund Freud, Introduction to Psychoanalysis