Chapter Four #2
Grayson scoops me into his arms and wraps me in a tight hug as my sobs come out as screams. He keeps me tight against his chest with my face buried as he rocks me.
I hear the soft melody of his voice, and it cuts through the grief and pain.
He continues to sing softly, and I slowly calm down.
I can’t focus on the words, but the vibration of his deep voice rumbles in his chest. I focus on the vibrations and let it lull me into silence.
Eventually, the tears fade away, and my heart stops feeling like it’s going to explode.
On my own, I sit up and wipe my face. Grayson rubs my back, but doesn’t say a word. After a few minutes, I move to sit cross-legged on the couch and look down at my hands.
“Molly doesn’t exist, does she?” I ask quietly.
“No,” Grayson says softly. “Milly, you have a dissociative disorder. You went through something horrific as a child, and as a way to protect yourself, you created Molly to put the pain on. This way, you weren’t the one being hurt; Molly was.
The brain has a way of trying to cope, so you blocked out a lot, but you also created Molly as a way to shield yourself from the painful reality.
The truth is, your biological father was assaulting you.
When you were ten, the rapes led to you becoming pregnant.
He panicked and decided the only way out was to kill you and the baby, and then himself.
Your mother got home and heard him shoot you, but shot himself when she got into the room.
She went on to marry Greg six months later. ”
“I’ve talked to her, though. She’s…”
“Milly, look at me,” Grayson says. I huff and look up at him.
“Molly is you. Every time you talk about something Molly feels or does, it’s you.
You have never said one thing that Molly actually said to you.
It’s always her feelings, or what happened to her, or what others say to her; it’s never what she says. ”
“I’m crazy,” I say. “I’m crazy, and you said…”
“You are not crazy, Milly. I would never lie to you. You have a dissociative disorder. You have a panic disorder. You have hallucinations when you are stressed or triggered. All of it is stemming from severe complex post-traumatic stress disorder,” Grayson says. “You, Milly Pennington, are not crazy.”
“Is she gone?” I ask tearfully.
“Now that you have connected reality with your past, you will likely not experience it in the same way. When you are under stress or triggered, you may still cope in that way, but knowing puts you in control.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I ask. “Mom and Greg don’t say anything… I talk about her all of the time…”
“Honestly, because if everyone sees you as crazy, no one will believe you if you speak up about what Greg has been doing to you since you were eleven,” he tells me.
“That’s why he didn’t want Molly… Oh fuck,” I gasp. “That was me. He said he didn’t want me doing the marriage thing… Gray, I can’t… He will fucking kill me. I…”
“Slow down,” Grayson says gently as he takes my hands into his.
“The entire society will be in this building shortly. Greg is a fucking asshole, but he isn’t an idiot.
He will not do anything so long as others are around.
The very moment the ceremony is done, you bring whoever it is to me, and we can explain together.
It is very fucking important that he knows.
You need support, and getting you out of that house and away from Greg is going to make a massive difference.
By the end of our sessions, you are calm, happy, and coping.
All you’ve ever needed was peace, and getting away from Greg is the peace you need. ”
“What is the ceremony?” I ask.
“You don’t… Ah fuck…” Grayson says with a heavy sigh as he rubs his hands down his face.
“Sex,” Adam says from the doorway when Grayson doesn’t.
I look over at him, and he says it again.
“Sex. The submissive partner will get fucked by the dominant in front of The Society. You’ll only be as exposed as your dominant partner allows.
Rarely does anyone do anything more than the minimum.
Marriages in this society consist of public fucking. ”
“I… Oh…” I say.
“What are you thinking?” Grayson asks.
“That I am going to be very sad if my perfect match has a small dick,” I say, and Grayson laughs. “You think I’m joking. I will be so disappointed.”
“You should know that I am in this tonight as well,” Grayson says carefully.
“You are getting married?” I ask.
“Yeah. It would look bad if the one who made the test didn’t take it,” he says. “Because of your journal entry, I wanted you to have time to process that.”
“Ah. So I don’t ugly cry like a crazy bitch in front of the entire society?” I ask. “I appreciate that.”
“That’s not what I said, and will you please stop calling yourself crazy?” Grayson asks with a sigh.
“I made up a fake sister to throw my trauma onto for what… fourteen years? I think that’s a bit insane,” I say.
“It’s… Weird. It makes sense because it’s not like I can recall a conversation with Molly…
But she felt real… I think when Greg caught me in the kitchen today, I felt like I was watching someone else get raped…
I caught myself thinking that it looked like it did when Molly would get raped. ”
“It’s going to take some time, but being away from Greg will help,” Grayson says. “Can we talk about your journal entry last night?”
“Fuck no,” I laugh.
“Milly,” he says simply.
“Gray,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest in an act of defiance. Adam chuckles and leans against the wall.
“What’s up with you?” I ask curiously.
“Oh, I just find it amusing to see how he acts with a brat when he can’t do anything about it,” he says with a smile.
“Oh, you like to beat people, too?” I ask. “Has anyone ever slipped off a table when not in restraints?”
“Impact play is not beating, Milly,” Grayson says.
“Why are people slipping off the table?” Adam asks.
“You know… from the pain-loving arousal,” I say with a smile.
“Hmm. I’ll leave my next sub untied and report back next week,” Adam says with a silly grin.
“Are you seriously interested in impact play, or do you just love pushing buttons?” Grayson asks.
“Both,” I say with a shrug. “I’m sorry I ran in here with a knife. That was odd behavior.”
“You were panicked,” he says. “I think things will get easier for you going forward. Once you are away from Greg, I’d like to revisit the idea of medication, though.”
“Will it help?”
“I think it will make a world of difference, especially combined with a more peaceful and less triggering environment,” he tells me.
“What if who I marry is as bad as Greg?”
“I know the nine other men in the ceremony today, and they are all wonderful men. The new leaders are doing a great job weeding out the shitty ones. Most of them are the older members,” Grayson says.
“So… I’m safe?” I ask.
“You are safe,” Grayson says with a sweet smile. I sigh and drop my head. He nudges my leg, and I look up at him. “I’m not going anywhere, Milly. I promise.”
“Okay,” I say simply.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No,” I say honestly. “I think…”
“What?”
“I think… It’s probably best that I find someone else to see for therapy,” I mumble as I look down at my hands.
“If you are going to say something like that, Milly, look at me when you say it, please.” I sigh heavily and look up at him. “Go on.”
“Why do I feel like you are taunting me?” I ask.
“Because I don’t think you actually want to find someone else,” he says.
“Of course I don’t, Grayson,” I snap at him. “You think I want to start over when I’ve already made so much progress? No, but I also don’t want to come in here three times a week just to see a fucking ring on your hand.”
“Why would that be upsetting?” Grayson asks coolly.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I sigh heavily as I stand up. “You know, for being a doctor, you sure are fucking dense sometimes.”
“Have fun tonight, Milly,” Grayson says with amusement in his voice.
“Fuck you, Grayson,” I reply, picking up my bag.
“I’ll see you later tonight.”
“No, you won’t,” I say as I pull the door open.
“Milly,” Grayson says in a different tone, so I turn and look at him.
“What, Gray?”
“If you get overwhelmed, count to the beat of the vibrations in your head,” he tells me. “Tell them you are overwhelmed and you need a moment, and take time to calm yourself. Okay? No one will judge you for recentering your thoughts.”
“Thank you,” I say. “See you never.”
“Bye, Milly. See you later,” Adam laughs.
“Bye, Adam. It was good to meet you. Sorry I’m a psycho.”
“All the fun ones are,” he says with a wink.
I scurry away to find somewhere to change into my dress for the ceremony.
It’s a beautiful white and pastel pink dress that ties behind my neck, leaving my shoulders exposed.
It hugs my breasts and dips down enough to show them off.
The rest of the dress flows out, but still shows off the curves of my body.
When I am dressed, I work on fixing my long reddish-brown hair.