Original subtitles

Enough!

Breathe deeply, breathe...

What’s with all the anger?

What’s up? Are you scared?

Yes.

It’s alright, it’s alright.

How do you feel wrath?

How do you experience it?

It makes me feel very, very ashamed.

And on the other hand,

I feel sort of powerful, coping with it.

I feel miserable for being unable to express wrath.

But I have plenty of it inside me.

And hatred too.

Four.

We’ve fixed it for you like this but there are other ways too.

If you’d rather have it another way, you can say so.

Close your eyes.

Shielding oneself mentally

is a very intelligent thing to do.

If we hadn’t been able to shield ourselves...

Probably that pain and grief would have destroyed us.

I feel like talking now.

At age 18, I wanted to learn to play the drums.

And I met one of the most well-known drum teachers in Gerona,

and a very strong bond grew between us.

He is the sort of paternal figure to whom

you could explain anything.

He was very liberal-minded, with progressive ideas,

very warm, affectionate and eager...

for physical contact.

A sort of role was established there.

Which at first I experienced as something very cool.

A person to whom you could tell whatever you wanted.

And six months later, in that relationship…

he started to make advances

in terms of affection.

Until he started proposing massages to me.

And those massages ended in sexual abuse.

In masturbation sessions...

I don’t know how many times it happened.

If I put myself in Isaac’s position at the age of 18,

when I was 18 or 19 years old, when I started doing this.

I had always experienced it as something...

like something kind of really crazy, right?

But in a normal way. "Oh, this has happened to me".

Obviously as time went by and I became an adult,

there’s much more to this story.

But the way I was experiencing it then...

I don’t know.

But of course, what I am about to say makes me feel guilty.

To a certain extent I actually enjoyed it, you know?

I felt pleasure.

And I’d even think, "Perhaps I feel like it today".

In actual fact I've come to think now, as an adult,

that there was a need to please somebody else.

A very strong need.

That drove me to...

I don’t know, man...

To satisfy someone else’s needs, you see what I mean?

All of that was obviously masked,

shrouded in a kind of terrible manipulation,

a huge manipulation including blackmail, extortion, pressure...

He’d never take no for an answer.

There was obviously certain violence about it.

- How old was he? - He was 58 at the time.

And when you say sexual abuse...

How does it feel?

I sense a sort of outburst of wrath,

you want him to be arrested and all that...

Yes, yes there is surely an anger component to it.

But that's kind of gone now.

I felt a lot of wrath for some time,

but now...

Now, what I’m trying to do is to feel something about it,

because I have always tried to look at it from a rational point of view, you know?

And the reason why I’m here is that...

the ordeal has caused a serious mental block in me,

and I sort of feel that...

I must work on that part.

Something similar happens to me.

Something that reminds me of your ordeal.

You see, my problem is that...

I’m scared of myself.

But...

It’s the sort of fear that I must put into words,

otherwise you won’t understand a thing, right?

But putting it into words...

is sort of impossible.

It’s something kind of engraved inside my body.

Really deep inside.

And which I know how to elude.

Do you have any idea about what, about where...?

I don’t know...

- What has happened, right? - Yes, there are certain things...

I can’t even breathe, huh?

Give yourself time, man.

I mean, literally, right?

Well, if you want to share it with us...

Yes, sure, I actually do. The thing is...

It’s like I said before, I mean...

If I explain to you the things that have happened to me,

which are written in the autobiography,

I’ll get away from it.

From what?

From feeling that there’s a black hole inside me.

- If you share it with us now? - If I put it into words.

Isaac was asking me if I had any idea

about where the wound came from.

The wound caused by that hole, right?

But, you know what wound is that?

Well, I call it the black hole.

What time will you arrive today?

Will you be long?

When you come back home, will you play with me?

I wrote a song once.

Why don’t you play with me?

Why don’t you play with me?

The days go by

and you never see me.

And I don't know, I wrote it...

I wrote it...

thinking about other boys and other fathers.

And during these days I've realized that...

I had written the song for you.

Why won’t you play with me?

Aye, dad.

I feel like I’m a reflection of you, I feel...

All those repressed feelings,

I myself feel too.

I hate my macho animal.

Because I see you in me.

You're an immature, old man,

a child.

A kid who had a family.

How many times have I called you Peter Pan?

I find it hard to speak to you.

I cannot understand why you weren’t there.

Why aren’t you here now?

I don’t understand why you left.

Nor how come you allowed her

to separate me from my brothers and sisters.

Where were you?

Where were you?

You abandoned me when you killed yourself.

You hypocrite!

I was a kid.

While with you, the word protection is alien to me, I do not recognize it.

You and the others didn’t know me at all, nor what was happening to me deep down.

And I swear that many things were happening in there.

Plenty.

Do you know what it’s like to be a child?

Having to cope with your nervous and wrathful moaning?

What I felt towards you was extreme fear, panic.

Sheer panic.

Do you know what thoughts kept crossing my mind?

Killing you, so as not to suffer.

Do you know why I suffer from physical fear?

It’s because when someone attacked me,

nobody was there to protect me, no one took care of me.

For two years,

I had to endure terrible humiliations, you bastard.

Fortunately, uncle Dolfo was there, dad.

At least he made me laugh.

We had a good time together.

He made me feel like a young boy.

You weren’t there.

My male reference, although he didn’t play the role of father to me,

but allowed me to be a boy,

was my uncle.

Yes.

My uncle Dolfo.

- Dolfo? - Dolfo.

He was a very, very...

Crazy guy.

Very hardworking, but he always did foolish things.

It was amazing.

What do you find most touching about your uncle?

Let it be,

let it happen.

So it seems there is something there, right?

He was important.

There are two things to be considered.

Firstly, I couldn’t say farewell to him.

I was just incapable of doing it.

You were incapable of saying goodbye?

He was my friend.

The friend.

You know what? Don’t explain it to me, Gerard, choose someone here...

No, I... wait, don’t jump the gun.

And also, my uncle is quite often in my mind...

OK, but don’t tell me,

just choose someone who might play Dolfo’s role.

That’s why you mustn’t jump the gun.

He is very much in my mind because Cisco reminds me a lot of my uncle.

Well, here he is.

Still breathing.

I miss you.

Well, I’m a little bit...

Just say something, whatever you like.

I’m a little puzzled because...

during the therapy there have been two moments that made me connect with…

I don’t know, I think within me, there are two things that stand out

because of the wound caused by the father, right?

And on the other hand,

it’s sort of difficult for me to explain it

or I just don’t know how to express it.

It’s as if the wound caused by...

the end of my innocence had been reopened.

Several things happened.

After doing the exercise of the shield,

it stirred something inside of me.

And then later,

seeing Gerard as well has connected me to my inner wrath.

And, I don’t know, it’s as if...

I’ve got this inner wrath for not being able to set limits.

So it has connected me to this innocence

and this anger I feel for not knowing why what happened, happened to me.

I was a fucking happy kid, really innocent and...

due to lack of tools

I ended up experiencing very painful situations, right?

Not just sexual abuse.

There are four other abuse

that I consider to be abuse, also, abuse of power,

over my innocence, and my fragility,

and my sensitivity, right?

All this has awakened during the therapy

and I have a little trouble handling it.

- You find it hard to handle? - Yes, a little bit.

OK, close your eyes.

Buddah used to say

that if some day while you walked down the street a poisoned arrow hit you,

you wouldn’t start asking: who shot that arrow at me?

And why did they do it?

What have I done to deserve that arrow? No, you don’t do that sort of thing.

You leave quickly to find a physician.

- It makes me very angry. - It makes you very angry, right?

Yes.

I would have loved...

to beat the hell out of every one with a stick, you know?

I almost did actually, except to my brother.

But I would have really clobbered the others.

Who are the others? Who are you referring to?

The people that abused you?

Of course.

The men who abused me.

Of course.

Well right here there are some you might wanna hit.

I can't do it.

Fucking hell, leave me alone.

Come on, go for it, go for it.

Only the paper is burning.

Wait, it looks like it's catching… No.

We should use a thinner rod.

- It seems so, right? - We’re doing ok.

I’m trying to sort out my thoughts but I feel very tired.

I am trying to remember but...

Let’s see,

when about two or three years later I went to public school,

I decided...

to play for a soccer team.

The Mollet football team.

I did it on the quiet, behind my parents back.

Because they’d say, "We’ll have to drive you here and there".

It was a nuisance to them.

And my father reprimanded me severely.

Anyway, things went wrong right from the start

because playing there required certain tests.

I don’t recall exactly how it happened,

but various boys found out that I was...

sort of feeble, too sensitive, I don’t know how to put it.

That I wasn't like them, right?

Well, I found everything a little bit harder than the others,

I was never really

a manly, male chauvinist stereotype, so to speak.

So then, they started abusing me.

When we went to the locker room,

they’d grab me, expose their genitals and scorn me.

Or the odd boy would move his penis close to my mouth.

Or grab my head and pretend they wanted a blow job.

There were plenty of insults too.

I suppose it’s a self-defence mechanism, but I don’t really remember well.

But I do recall that when I left that team...

I joined another soccer team

and I met those boys again at a football match,

between my new team and theirs.

I don’t know what I would have done to them, but it was only me against the lot.

If only I’d had a gun, good God,

I would have gone mad because I really hated them and still do, right?

I no longer remember their names but...

I’d love to beat the hell out of them,

particularly one who was tall and with dark hair.

His name was José, I think.

I would have really loved to beat him to a pulp.

Kill that bastard there and then.

I feel exhausted, it’s hard for me to...

To Emma and my parents.