A/N: Hey there, first of all I want to say that this story is a translation of other one that I'm currently writing and posting here. This story contains some warnings - angst, incest, rape and mention of suicide in later chapters. This story is almost already written, if you want you can read it in spanish it has the same title. I have nothing else to say, hope you like it and write a review if you want please.

I try to calm my nerves as I sit in the little metal chair of the middle of the room, my hands sweat at the nervousness and I can only think in two or three coherent phrases, four if I can concentrate. I take a look to the wooden door in front of me, distinguishing the letters engraved in a plate of a grayish tone, "Kai Garland - psychiatrist".

Therapy.

My voice breaks the silence of the room with a coarse and indiscreet whimper; the therapy has never resulted in anything, at least not in the last four years, and frankly I doubt that it will work now. In my short 20 years of life I have already gone through every hospital, clinic and therapist of the medical directory; I have listened with no interest to their advices and I haven't worried in putting them into practice. I planned to leave even before the beginning of the first session, and while they memorized my name, age and case, I concentrated on a well-developed lie to keep back those places full of insecurities and self-esteem problems.

And it's that my whole life was based on lies. A mythomaniac with experience, according to the dictionary. Lying was the only way I could ensure that nobody could get close to me, making them spin on their heels and say the words "abnormal freak" while stepping away. I have become an expert in hiding the truth from other people, keeping my feelings and thoughts deep inside of me.

I can feel the call of my name rumble in my ears, and perhaps in others' too. Putting aside the magazine that rested on my lap, I went to the small cubicle with coffee smell and motivational posters. The game has started.

Elsa Gillespie, 20 years old, six months, eighteen days.

At first glance, Kai seems at least mildly interested in his patients, his eyes don't leave the computer and for the umpteenth time today I ask myself what I'm doing in a place like this. The answer comes to my mind even before I can finish the question, four letters and two syllables: Anna.

"Who is Anna?" His voice is rough and cold. I ignore the detail that I had whispered Anna's name.

If I had to use some adjective to describe Anna, it would be, undoubtedly, ineffable. She's something that can't be described with existing words, something so ephemeral and sublime that it can only bring you peace when you are by her side.

But of course, my answer is completely different from the original idea.

"Nobody special".

I try to force myself to believe that answer, although deep down I know it's not so, that I would never describe her like that. Kai just nods silently, the sound of his fingers on the keys are the only thing that can be heard in the room.

"Why are you here?"

Why am I here? That's a simple question, but there's not a simple answer.

I'm here because I love Anna, my little sister, the only reason that makes me want to be alive. I love her way of being. Her eyes, the way her lips curves when she laughs, her bright red hair.

I'm here because my dad forced me to love her when both were young. With kisses, with caresses, listening the silent moans that came of our lips. I'm here because in the attic of our house he forced us to love each other in ways that a child will never understand. I'm here because he forced me to love him, although he was hurting me and I was just an 8 year old girl who thought it was normal.

I didn't say anything for a while, trying to order my thoughts. I feel anxious, sad. I'm haunted by my sister's presence in our house - our house almost empty after the death of our parents. I had to cover myself in long jackets and satin gloves to stay away from everyone, thinking that any touch would be like his touch and my whole life would break again piece by piece.

Why doesn't Anna remember anything? Why are she always happy while I just sink more and more, unable to overcome it?

"I'm just tired and sad, I didn't had sleep well. Maybe I need some drugs or something". I managed to say

Kai sighs holding his watch with his fingers, he close his computer gently and approaching me. He tries to release tension telling a personal anecdote that only serves to make me grimace but that is enough for what, I deduce, he has in mind.

"Now tell me the truth". Up close he doesn't look as old as many describe him. "You're smart, Elsa. And you know well that I didn't believe a single word".

I gulp, trying to hide my considerable discomfort. My eyes now look at a random spot above his head trying not to stare at him.

"I don't want to force you to anything, but let me help you".

I don't want to force you to anything, those words strongly hit my chest. For a long time I let everyone in my environment govern me, treating me as if I were a puppet. Forcing me to do things I never wanted to do, that I never wanted to carry as a burden.

"Let me help you". He said again, taking my hand and stroking the bright blue fabric.

The main dilemma is that I don't know for sure if I want to let him do it. His voice pronounced again the question with which he started the session, letting me see that he really wants to help me with this.

"Who is Anna?" Less rigid and firm than the first time, his voice tone is now a little gentler.

Defeated, I chose the only option that seemed to be coherent, telling every detail that had made me go to therapy that day. I end my story with two simple words that summarize the synthesis of everything: a game.

It had all started as a game.