Chapter 13 The Phoenix #2
I wrote about his anger and his manipulation.
Looking back through new eyes, it was almost like I was a different person when I examined past events.
He wasn’t as obvious about it all the time, the red flags well hidden in the carnival of mayhem.
Sometimes—more often than not—he was subtle when he tried to take control.
My mother had been that way, too. She would use sweet words to carry vile hidden meanings; compliments to an audience's ears were heartbreaking insults to her victims.
Writing about the attack helped calm my anxiety a little more while I waited for Daxton. Truthfully, I was hoping to just speak to him on the phone; I never expected him to be making a trip to the hospital just to have a session with me.
In my version of events, I made changes.
Not to manipulate or mask the truth, but to process things in my mind.
Craig became a monster —a creature out of one of my beloved horror movies—rather than a man.
The beast he was had come to life, destroying the flesh suit he wore to hide his true self, ripping it to shreds from the inside out as he rebirthed his identity.
His words remained the same, ever taunting me, ever putting me down, and trying to keep me in my place.
But it was his blood that ended up being spilt, not mine; his pain left in that house as I let my imagination take me away.
I scribbled across the paper, ignoring the tape on my bandage that kept snagging on the edge, the need to tear at the stitches in my skin slowly melting away.
There was a darkness that lingered in my mind when it came to thinking about Craig.
Violence like I had never known before hummed inside me, my pen acting as an outlet for its fantasies, a sword in my hands as each word cut him down to pieces.
I was so enraptured by the images in my mind that I was describing on paper that I didn’t notice anyone entering my room, watching me like a cat would watch a mouse.
“I’m curious, what has you so occupied that you haven’t noticed me yet, Rae?” I jumped, nearly falling off my bed and throwing my pen in the process. A deep chuckle came from the intruder who was leaning against my dresser, only a few feet from me.
“Have you ever heard of knocking?” I snapped, pushing myself to sit up to close my notebook, glaring at my therapist for startling me.
“I have, and I did, knocked twice, actually. You didn’t hear me.
” I took half the intensity out of my glare, taking in how he was dressed casually today in jeans with a fitted black V-neck shirt that clung tightly to his broad shoulders, and scolded myself for how I had addressed him.
It was my fault he was here after all. “What were you writing about that had you so lost in your head that you didn’t hear me? ”
“Why do you need to know?”
“I’m your therapist, getting inside your head would be in my job description. Since you called me in on my day off with a crisis, I’m just curious if that was what had your attention rather than your surroundings.”
“If you must know, I was rewriting what happened to me that landed me in this place.”
“Rewriting, how? What events did you change?”
“I’m not crazy, I know what really happened, so don’t try to plant it in my head that I’m writing something different because I can’t stick with my original story,” I clutched my notebook tightly to my chest to protect my words.
“I’ve already told you that I believe you, so why would I go back on that? I may be a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them,” he firmly stated, keeping his arms crossed against his chest. “Now, would you like to finish talking here or do you want to go to my office?”
“Your office, I prefer the privacy, and I think I annoyed Shemar, so he’d probably enjoy a break from having to check on me every fifteen minutes.”
“Shemar will be fine, once he has a plan for the day, he likes sticking to it, deviating from it isn’t in his comfort zone,” Daxton pushed off the dresser gently and started walking towards the door, leaving me no choice but to get up and follow behind him after I hastily shoved my notebook in the depths of my gym bag.
He set a brisk pace as he led us to his office on the fourth floor, his steps quieter than the other day when he was wearing his boots. Black athletic shoes adorned his feet today.
“Did I interrupt your day?” I asked, guilt starting to set in at the thought of putting him in a position where he had to change any of his plans.
When I had coerced Shemar into calling him, I hadn’t thought about the possibility that I would be interrupting his day off.
My desperation had been too dire in the moment.
“Nothing that couldn’t be easily changed. My first and foremost priority is the well-being of my patients.”
“Kendi just thought it would be a good idea to speak with you, I didn’t even consider if it was your day off, and I’m so sorry.
Sometimes I’m too much of an act first, think about it later type of person, which really contradicts the part that over thinks the simplest interactions,” I rambled, my confidence from approaching Shemar with my request starting to dwindle the more I dwelled on it.
He stopped on the stairs, turning to face me, his dark eyes fixed on my own as he loomed over me with the increased height of the steps, “Don’t ever think you are a bother to me, whether I’m here or at home, I am exactly where I need to be right now.
” Daxton wasn’t harsh with his words, but his tone left no room for argument, firmly trying to squash whatever doubt I had in my mind that it had been the wrong thing to do.
“Never hesitate to reach out to me, do you understand?”
The way he spoke to me made me want to believe every word he said. His voice was just as intense as his physical presence was. Taking control and dominating me in a way I had never felt before. He didn’t need to manipulate me with pretty words when his actions mirrored his words.
“I understand,” I said almost breathlessly.
He towered above me when we were on equal ground; being a step above me made me feel small in comparison.
I didn’t bend backwards to avoid his gaze; I met it with steel in my spine.
I was so used to facing consequences when I asked for help or when I reached out; it was a drastic difference having someone insist that I wasn’t a bother to them.
“Good,” He said simply before turning around and continuing up the stairs. A warmth flooded through my body at his intensity, one that I couldn’t explain, and that feeling settled right in my lower abdomen.
I took the same spot on the couch when I entered his office, letting him turn on the lights and get settled while I pulled the pillow with the fringe onto my lap.
Daxton didn’t grab his notebook from his desk as he took his seat, crossing one leg over the other like he had all the time in the world, and this was nothing more than a casual conversation.
“So what happened this morning?”
“Craig called this morning. I thought you had him banned from the hospital?”
“I did have him banned, security knows not to let him in as a visitor, unfortunately, that doesn’t stop phone calls from being made. I’m assuming the police never filed a protective order for you since they didn’t believe your story?”
“No, the doctors didn’t believe me, so I never got the chance to speak with the police. I was unconscious when I was admitted.”
“What did he say when he called?”
Picking at the fringe on the pillow, I focused my eyes on a spot to the left of his head, ashamed of the fear I felt still lingering from the conversation with Craig.
“He wanted to discuss our future, and that if I wasn’t open to discussing it and fixing things with him, he was going to finish what he started.”
“So he admitted to the assault?” There was an edge to Daxton's voice now that hadn’t been there before.
“He didn’t say those exact words, but yes, he said he would finish what he started, so I took it as an admission. Are the phone calls here recorded?”
Daxton shook his head, “No, privacy laws prevent it since patients and staff might discuss medical information over the phones here. The only thing there will be is a record of whatever number he made the call from.”
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “If the doctors didn’t believe me, what chance do I have that the police will take me seriously when I’m released? What if he follows through with his threat?”
“Does Craig know when you’re going to be released?”
“He might, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. I know he was involved in my intake before I was transferred over here, but I’m not sure what all the doctor told him.”
“The best thing I can do since he’s already banned from the facility is put a note on your chart to screen your calls.
I don’t think they can prevent him from calling, but they can prevent his phone calls from reaching you if the staff knows not to let him speak to you.
Without your consent, they can’t release your medical information to him, so you don’t need to worry about that either. ”
I felt the tears building behind my eyes. As much as I craved to see Craig suffer for how he had treated me over the past several years, there was a fear I couldn’t extinguish, no matter how hard I tried.
“You don’t understand what type of person he is. He’s charming when he needs to be, he’s believable, he has masks that he wears, and they’re so convincing no one will believe me.”
“I understand better than you would think. I’ve helped domestic abuse victims leave their partners and heal from the trauma.
I’m not comparing your ordeal to anyone else’s; I just want you to know I do understand from an outsider's perspective what you’re experiencing.
The unlucky women never get the chance to walk away from their abuser; they die before they find the courage to escape. ”
“I know I should feel lucky, but I feel trapped. I feel like as long as he’s out there, I’m going to live in constant fear or always under this thumb. That there isn’t a third option.”
“There is always a third option. Hell, a fourth, a fifth, as many options as you want to give yourself. You just have to make yourself available to those choices. If you could choose right now, any option without consequences, what would it be?”
I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to be that honest with him. He was obligated by law to make a report if he thought I was a danger to myself or anyone around me, so would it be worth sharing my opinion if he thought I was capable of causing someone harm?
“Hypothetically speaking?”
“Yes, hypothetically speaking. We are currently in a fantasy world where you are allowed to serve him justice in any way you see fit.”
“I would kill him, I would take his masks off, and I would make him feel every horrible thing he’s ever made me feel. I would make him see the monster that I see whenever I look at him, and I’d take every moment he mentally abused me and inflict it upon his body tenfold.”
“That’s a pretty specific outcome. Most people just settle for sending them away, or to jail.”
“Most people aren’t like me. Besides, we’re only talking in hypotheticals, right?”
“Fair enough, is that what you were writing about when I showed up?”
“Yes, in my version, the version that didn’t happen, I was able to fight back and win.”
“You can still win against him. It may not feel like it now, but once you regain control, you can win against him and anyone else that tries to use you and control you without your consent.”
“And when does that start?” I asked, not fully believing him, but damn did I want to. What little confidence I had after my parents died felt like a different person had lived in my shoes. It didn’t feel like a version of me that was healed and unbroken had ever existed.
“It starts here, with our sessions, with building yourself back to the person you were before Craig entered your life and made you feel like less than a person with his venom.”
“You’re confident you can fix me?” I wiped a tear from under my eye.
I hadn’t allowed them to freely flow, to be that vulnerable in the moment, but they had filled to the point of almost blurring my vision.
Quickly blinking them away, I met his hard eyes, challenging him with a task I didn’t believe could be accomplished.
“I am. I’m also confident you can fix yourself.
You’re stronger than you realize. You’ve already survived what a lot of people wouldn’t have.
He tried to kill you not once, but twice, and he failed.
There’s a will to live in you that’s going to overcome these obstacles if I have anything to say about it. ”
“That’s a pretty bold statement.”
“I stand by what I say. There are many ways to get your control back, you just have to find what works for you. In the meantime, I’ll make sure the nurses know to screen your calls.”
“What do I do when I’m released? If he follows through with his threats?”
“I don’t want you to worry about that right now; you’re completely safe while you’re staying here. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
“You can’t make a promise like that.” I all but wanted to roll my eyes at the absurdity of it. If he thought I believed that something like that was a promise anyone could keep, he must believe I’m as crazy as the doctors have labeled me as.
“Says who?”
“People don’t make those promises, especially when they can’t keep them.”
“Who says I don’t have the intention of keeping it?”
“I do, outside of here is an entirely different place.”
He watched me like a wolf. His grin was unlike I had ever seen before. It wasn’t pleasant, but it also wasn’t intimidating. It was hungry.
“You’ll see.”
And just like that, I found myself wondering if there weren’t just greener pastures on the other side, but an entire unexplored wilderness.
Feelings like this weren't something I’d experienced before.
It may be wrong, especially since my last relationship just ended with attempted murder, but something about him just felt right.
He felt like one of those rare people who entered someone’s life with a purpose.
Not by accident, not coincidentally, but with the sole purpose of changing my life in ways I couldn’t dream of.