by Tessah Melamed Tom Rogerson Any standard victim of childhood trauma will be glad to inform you that it all ends in the bathroom stall of your choosing. The bathroom stall outside your therapist’s office, the one with the faded wallpaper and the lights that hesitate to come on when you open the door, or the one at the bar where you do drugs with your friends, or the one in your apartment you keep saying you’ll clean, but you don’t. Cleaning requires motivation and, as any