An Author’s Reflection on Sophia Kruger in Sun on Your Back

In Sun on Your Back, Sophia Kruger is a character who has haunted readers. Her story is not simply one of violence, but of silence—a silence so thick and long-lived it begins to masquerade as devotion. Sophia is the embodiment of a phenomenon known in psychological literature as Battered Woman Syndrome (BWS)—a form of learned helplessness and trauma bonding seen in women subjected to prolonged domestic abuse.

When I wrote Sophia, I wanted her to feel heartbreakingly real. I didn’t want readers to pity her from a distance. I wanted them to see her. To feel the complexity of loving someone who hurts you, of believing that suffering might be your destiny, and of hoping against all odds that the man who breaks your bones will one day simply hold your hand.

What is Battered Woman Syndrome?

Coined by psychologist Lenore Walker in the late 1970s, BWS describes a psychological condition that can develop in victims of consistent, severe domestic abuse. It is often marked by:

• Denial: Minimising or rationalising the abuse
• Hypervigilance: Monitoring and anticipating the abuser’s mood to avoid conflict
• Helplessness: Believing there is no way out
• Hope for Change: Clinging to memories of the abuser’s “good side”

Sophia’s sessions with Dr Inviolata Marimo, the psychologist who assessed her during her murder trial, reveal these patterns. She doesn’t see herself as a victim—only as a flawed wife. She walks on eggshells to avoid inciting violence. And when asked why she never left, her answer is simple and devastating: “Why would I do that? I love him.”

Writing Through Denial

I spent years as a psychologist. I’ve heard these words in real life, whispered across desks and therapy rooms. But fiction allows a deeper kind of intimacy. It’s one thing to read a statistic about domestic violence. It’s another to sit with Sophia as she recalls the child she lost because André kicked her in the stomach during pregnancy. And it’s quite another still to hear her say she blames herself for it.

Denial is not stupidity. It is not weakness. It is survival. Sophia denies what her husband did to their daughters because acknowledging it would tear apart the fragile illusion she’s built to protect herself. And when denial becomes a coping mechanism so deeply ingrained that it blinds a mother to her child’s abuse, the consequences are generational.

When the System Fails to See Her

In the courtroom scene, Dr. Marimo is forced to confront not just Sophia’s trauma but the bias of the legal system. The prosecutor’s insinuations—that mother and daughter were fighting over the same man, that jealousy motivated murder—mirror the disbelief and victim-blaming that so often greet stories of abuse. It’s an echo of what actual women face when they speak up: What did you do to provoke him? Why didn’t you leave? Are you sure you’re remembering it right?

Sophia’s story, like those of many women in abusive homes, is not clean-cut. She’s not a hero or a villain. She’s a human being shaped by cultural expectations, religious obedience, early grooming, and a life spent learning that pain and love were the same thing.

Why Stories Like Sophia’s Matter?

When we write characters like Sophia, we chip away at the myths that keep abuse hidden. We show the grey areas. The mothers who look away. The daughters who break the silence. The systems that punish survival.

In Sun on Your Back, Sophia’s silence is not just her own—it’s the silence of every woman who has told herself, “He only hits me when I deserve it.”

It’s the silence of every daughter who waited years to be believed.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s the kind of story that can make someone feel less alone—and more ready to speak.

“Denial is not stupidity. It is survival.” – Sun on Your Back

Sophia Kruger’s story reminds us of the silent battles women face behind closed doors—and the cost of staying quiet too long.

Read now: Sun on Your Back:- https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B094G99RML