After the last trial, Ellen had gone home almost immediately. Even after so many of the same kind of trials, where she had defended sexually abused women and questioned violent pimps and husbands and other defendants, she was still not used to the vehemence of these cases. The devastation the perpetrators had caused, and then the way they broke down and came to confession and regret. Every time, and still it didn't get used!

.

At home, Ellen discovered that Alexander was not at home. Actually, she didn't even mind, she needed rest, nothing for a while, no voices, no words, no thinking... However, she wasn't prepared for the voices, the words, the thoughts in her head. As if her whole system went upside down!

As she lay on the sofa, her shoes kicked out under the table, all sorts of questions came along, real questions she understood, and also, to her mind, impossible and unreasonable ones.

'What's the point of questioning guys like that?'

'Do you really think they will change their behaviour?'

'Who do you think you are, playing the same game with those suspects all the time?'

'What tricks are you playing on them?'

'You're just a feminist who...'

Suddenly, Ellen became furious! She jumped up and shouted, at no one in particular, more at the thoughts in her head:

"What has this got to do with feminism!

I don't have a click with feminism at all!

I have a click with women, especially women who have been stepped or pulled into traps, women who have been mistreated and abused!

I want, I demand that women start being treated like human beings!

This wretched, devastating abuse has to end!

That's all that matters, that's what I want!"

She gasped from her own furious outburst, waited a moment and lay back down.

A soft voice whispered, 'Why especially such women? Why not other women or men who are victims of something else?'

She recognised the soft voice, her own inner voice, the one that had guided her so many times before, the one that helped her so much in court cases.

Yes, why especially such women?

Ellen thought about it, going back in time to Lisa, who had been trained as a prostitute by her ex-husband through BDSM. How much she had felt sorry for her! Such a vulnerable woman, who turned out to be so immensely strong and fiery inside. How many women have been so devastated, even before that misery of involuntary prostitution began, women who in themselves have a tremendous passion for something, but had been pushed down and trapped by another and thus became easy prey for whatever form of abuse.

Why exactly such women?

Ellen went further back in time, wondering where her desire to stand up for another, a victim, had started. She knew that she had deliberately chosen the legal profession after the basic year of law. But why? Did that have a reason or was it just what she liked, what suited her?

She thought back to her own childhood, her youth. As far as she could remember, she had never been raped, never abused in that way. What she did remember was how she had been gagged, how her own opinion, her will, her desire had not mattered. She just had to obey, as if she were a little robot. She remembered well how she had so often had to struggle to suppress her anger at being ignored, overlooked as a person. She now felt the often silent suppression, she felt the anger begin to boil inside her again. And because she had never been allowed to put words to it, she now did not know what to say about it either, how to shout it out. No, not with words, but the ferocious scream of pain and frustration came out like that of a roaring lion, a scream that came in waves, for minutes at a time and finally turned into crying, plaintive crying and finally into a soft sobbing.

Half an hour later, she calmed down.

"Such a sore throat," she whispered, "such a sore throat, and my heart, my heart has pounded out, has been exploded..."

Carefully she stood up, shuffled to the kitchen, let the cold tap run for a while until the water was really well cold, and filled a glass. She took a small sip, hardly daring to swallow. The swallowing movement hurt so much!

The cool water eased the pain a little, so she ventured a second sip, a third, and slowly but surely, she emptied the whole glass. The pain had eased slightly, but was far from completely gone. She went back to the sofa, sat down, and as she rocked herself, she put her hand on her throat. To her surprise, the pain subsided to almost zero. She removed her hand, looked at it.

'How can that be?' she wondered in her mind. 'How can the pain subside like that when I put my hand on it?'

She felt how her heart area also hurt badly. She put her hand on it, and felt what happened, felt how her heart calmed down and the pain disappeared.

'How can that be?'

She put her hand on her throat again, and the last bit of pain disappeared.

"It's like I've become a magician," she whispered, bewildered. "That way I do want to be a magician..."

She thought back to the deepest desire she had, to pull women through her defence loose from the suspects who had tormented them. Deep down, she wanted to bring healing, but not through medicine, not as a doctor or anything. It had occupied her since childhood, the pain of other people, people who were not free. Actually people like she herself had been, oppressed, gagged. Well, gagged she hadn't been for a long time. She had learned to listen to her insides and felt strengthened in court by the presence of Johan and also Sjaak and Lisa, who came to court by default, even now that William was there. Ha, they just took that sweet little guy with them!  Yes, their presence was powerful. She had always felt how their soul powers combined to tackle evil, not by slashing down the suspects, but by breaking right through the walls of their twisted souls and getting to the core. They too, even those wretched suspects, were people with a soul that was essentially good. A soul that had been broken, abused by dark thoughts and hunches. And every time she broke through to a suspect, there was a sense of triumph there, not a triumph that was condescending or derogatory to the suspect, but a triumph of victory over evil and pain. She had understood by now, that by the way she dealt with the suspects, and by the power of her soul, supported by the soul power of her dear friends, she caused something painful in them, but that that pain caused something essential, something deep, to open up in them. In fact, each time she triggered a process of inner healing in a powerful way, precisely by approaching them from the strength of her soul, enlightened by her soul, with the right, the most painful questions she could ask.

Ellen smiled and said aloud to herself, "So I have perfect work. I want to bring healing, and I want to free abused women from their oppressors. For both parties, I bring a process of healing, and the women can pick up their lives in freedom, find their way. And those perpetrators, yes, they do go to jail, but inwardly, because of my questions, they are a lot freer than before. Yes, I really do have a perfect job!"

She stood up, happy to have plumbed the depths, and called Marieke's number. Marieke was the first person who would understand her. Marieke knew her inside out. Briefly she reported what had happened, and it was as she had expected: Marieke understood completely, told her that she herself had also gone through a deep piece of process and had discovered in it, that she did not want to continue with her security company. She talked enthusiastically about her new discovery, about folding with simple coloured paper and making things that seemed so simple, yet were so much fun and that she experienced it as something that suited her completely, much better than security. That's why she wanted to deepen this, go further with it. She felt it flowing from within, pushing, like something that was happy to finally be allowed to come out, almost volcanic! Marieke promised she would forward some photos of her butterflies.

"Extraordinary, Marieke, something so completely different from what you thought really suited you... But, before I forget, there's something else, something crazy happened. I screamed so almightily, roared like a lion, and cried, that I had a terrible sore throat and pain in my heart area. It was so bad, it was just scary. I carefully drank cold water, which did ease a little, but the worst pain remained."

She recounted what had happened through her hands.

"Have you ever heard of that, that such a thing is possible?"

"No, never... yes, I have! You know, I'm so fond of the garden, of flowers, and sometimes I get stung, and especially if it's by a bee or a wasp, it's quite painful. Then I always put my hand on it, take my time to relax internally from the shock. And afterwards the pain is always gone, or at least almost gone. Could that also have to do with the strength of our souls?"

"I couldn't think of anything else, I don't feel like a magician!"

Marieke laughed: "No, neither do I, but that power is in us, must be from our soul. I'll talk to Johan about it later. If he has another solution, I'll let you know. And now I'm going to hang up, quickly send you those photos and then cook dinner. Are you taking some rest tonight? You could use that, go and do something nice for yourself..."

"Will do, I'm curious to see the result of your creativity!"

Moments later, the photos arrived. Ellen opened the files curiously and was bewildered by what she saw.

"Is that just folding paper? That can't be..." she whispered to herself. She sent those words back in an email, after which she received a picture of the mess Marieke had made on the dining table. Indeed, simple folding leaves that people had devised for toddlers....

'Unbelievable! So beautiful, so cool! Keep going with this!!!' she emailed back.

In reply, she received a few happy smiles.

.

A few days later, Ellen was allowed to defend another woman, a slightly older woman than she was used to, a woman who had been forced to work as a sex slave for more than a decade. Ellen felt so sorry for her. She looked so decrepit, so worn out. Cynthia Schutte, not yet thirty years old according to the papers, abused for over a third of her life....

Ellen felt such anger rising, knew she couldn't express it in front of Cynthia. So she whispered to Cynthia that she had to go to the toilet for a while, and sought out Marianne, Johan's secretary.

Marianne could see from her face what was going on, she felt like a thundercloud, a volcano about to erupt. Marianne stood up, put her hands on Ellen's shoulders and said, "Just shout at me, throw it out."

Nothing surprised Ellen anymore, including the fact that Marianne needed no explanation. She took a deep breath and roared, roaring like an enraged lioness seeing her cub being attacked.

Later, when she had calmed down and drunk some water, she named it accordingly. "My client, Cynthia, feels like my cub, I have to defend her, I have to save her! And that's what the hell I'm going to do!"

Marianne smiled, "You certainly are, and I'm walking with you, because I see it's almost time, and I want to witness your roar for deliverance and rescue!"

Ellen sighed deeply, took a few seconds to help her body relax and walked back to the courtroom with Marianne.

"What took you so long?" asked Cynthia in a whisper.

"Not in the toilet, I just needed to vent my anger at the injustice done to you. I am so happy for you that you are out of here, that you have now been given a place to live at The Shelter. It's only temporary, but you can stay there as long as you need to, and it's good there."

"Anger? For me?" Cynthia looked at her in bewilderment.

Ellen nodded and whispered, "What was done to you should not happen to any woman, but we are going to start, there comes Johan, the judge."

.

Afterwards, Johan approached Ellen and Cynthia.

"Cynthia, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, I'm happy, but I don't understand how all this could happen. I expected him to deny everything."

"You had a powerful lady beside you. Ellen, I heard from Marieke what you went through last week, and I felt it in your speaking. There was a kind of anger in it. I was reminded of a lion fighting for its cubs, a lioness in your case. Well Cynthia, this lioness fought for you and I assure you, you are now free! The accused will be punished, though I cannot yet say for sure how, but he will not be released. He has confessed, from the inside, and that is the greatest thing there is. Wow Ellen, I've been with you so many times now in these kinds of court cases, but never with such fervour as now. It seems like you've completely broken free now!"

"That's how I feel too. Do you know that film of X-men?"

Johan nodded: "Jean, who became a firebird when she broke free..."

"Yes, that's how I felt, and that's how I still feel."

"That will remain so, you are freer and therefore more powerful than ever," Johan promised her, "and what you had told Marieke about your hands is also true. Cynthia, is it true that you have a headache?"

Cynthia nodded: "Yes, from all the tension, I think"

Johan nodded to Ellen: "Ask her..."

Ellen looked at Cynthia: "Is it true that the pain is mainly at the transition from your forehead to the top of your head?"

Cynthia nodded in surprise.

"May I put my hand on it for a moment?"

Cynthia nodded again, wondering what that had to do with her headache.

Ellen put her hand on Cynthia's head, feeling how something started to flow, how it increased and how it also decreased. Then she removed her hand again. Cynthia looked at her with wide eyes, feeling her head with both hands in bewilderment. "All the pain is gone... how can that be?"

Ellen smiled, "Come, I'll take you home, and then I'll tell you on the way!"

To chapter 55. Rosanne and Angelique's little shop

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