TODAY IS THE fiRST TIME WE ARE BEING HEARD AS WITNESSES IN WIM’S case, which is named Vandros. We have asked the judge to prevent Wim from having visual contact with us. None of us can bear the thought that he’ll manipulate us with his eyes. We know that he can intimidate us with nonverbal communication that others won’t see or understand. We are afraid to implode, to freeze.
That first hearing, I’m emotional more than anything else. I feel terrible with Wim sitting close to me, and the glass wall between us makes no difference. I’m aware of his presence and feel constrained by it. His close presence feels like him crawling under my skin.
That’s how long he’s owned my spirit.
I don’t dare say everything I want to say. I’m scared, and at the same time I feel terrible about doing this to him. I’m oscillating between fear and pity. It makes me reticent in my answers, and I want it to stop: Set him free, I think, because I don’t want to go on like this. I really can’t bear it, and to end it I almost say, Leave it, judge. I’ll take him with me.
But it’s impossible, and it would be nonsense. My feelings confuse me. How can I be sympathetic to someone so evil? And in the same way I empathize with him. I empathize with Stijn, his lawyer. It must have been a terrible blow to him: me, always the confidante and liaison with Wim. Now I stand diametrically opposed to him. It makes me feel sick.
All these different emotions are killing me. The hearing is scheduled to go on the whole day, but by four o’clock, I’m exhausted—I can’t keep my eyes from falling shut. The judge notices and decides to end the hearing. Many more will follow. How am I going to last? Maybe my therapist is right. Maybe I can’t live with what I have done.