a woman in a business suit talking to another woman

I made it to the therapist’s office right as the doctor was unlocking the door. “Excuse me,” I said, “Are you Dr. Markham?” Startled, the doctor jumped and whirled around to face me. “Oh my God,” she had a hand on her chest, “You scared the crap out of me.” “Sorry,” I apologized. “How can I help you?” the doctor asked. “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment,” as I spoke I couldn’t keep my eyes from tearing up, “About my husband.” Dr. Markham stared at me, taking note of the bruises on my arms and neck. “Yeah,” she replied, “Come inside.” She opened the door and then led me into an inner office where she gestured at a chair in front of a large desk and said, “Have a seat.” Dr. Markham waited until I was seated before seating herself behind the desk. “Here.” She held out a box of tissues. After I took one and dried my eyes she said, “Now tell me about your husband.” Over the next thirty minutes, I told her about all of the abuse I’d suffered at my husband’s hands and how he manipulated