Dear Prudence,
“Troy” is my daughter “Janessa’s” boyfriend. He’s also a gaslighting nightmare. He doesn’t yell. He whispers. He tells Janessa she’s “too sensitive” when she catches him lying. He says, “I never said that,” so smoothly you almost believe him. He’s turned my confident daughter into a trembling people-pleaser who apologizes for existing. But here’s the sick part: Troy doesn’t just want Janessa. He wants both of my daughters. He’s been slowly reeling “Elise,” Janessa’s younger sister, in for months. Compliments her in ways that make Janessa feel small. “Elise’s got that wild spark, Janessa. You used to have that.” He touches Elise’s wrist, her lower back, “accidentally.” When Elise picks a fight with Janessa (always over nothing—a dish left out, a look she didn’t like), Troy sighs and says, “See how you treat people, Janessa? Elise would never do that to someone she loved.” He’s planting seeds. Janessa is the problem. You understand me, Elise. You’re special.
And Elise? She’s eating it up. She’s gullible as a lamb, and her emotions are all over the place—she’s off her meds, she’s been crying for weeks, and she’s started parroting Troy’s phrases. Last night, I heard her whisper to Janessa: “Maybe if you weren’t so hysterical, he wouldn’t have to correct you all the time.”My own daughter. Parroting her sister’s abuser. She doesn’t see that Troy wants a harem. He wants two brainwashed women fighting for his approval while he watches like a king. And Elise—poor, desperate, easily-led Elise—is drifting right into his hands. She thinks she’s in love. She’s not. She’s being hollowed out. Janessa is too broken to help. Elise is too blind to save herself. And I’m just the mother, watching a cult of two forms in my own living room. What do I do before Troy has them both?
—Helpless