Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Gideon followed Fury into a room he hadn’t yet seen. This was another office space like Carver’s, yet there was only a couch, a chair, and some bookshelves inside.
“Come in. Have a seat on the couch. Or you can lay down on it if you like. Some of the guys like to close their eyes and pretend to sleep while they share with me. Makes it easier.”
Gideon nearly snorted aloud at the suggestion. There was no way he’d do that. Dreaming always led to nightmares. Why would he force himself to experience one in the middle of the day?
At least he assumed it was the middle of the day. He hadn’t paid attention to much about what all had been happening when he came out of Carver’s room. He only knew he had to find Fury so they could talk.
Carver had told him they couldn’t explore anything without him getting his life in order.
Gideon eased himself down onto the couch. It was comfortable in a way that reminded him of Carver's bed. He could have laid down, could have enjoyed the promise that something so nice would bring him, but he knew getting comfortable wasn't the important part right now.
He needed to talk to Fury. Needed to get everything out in the open.
Carver had said it was the thing holding him back, and though Gideon had calmed down from his earlier excitement, he knew he wanted to pursue whatever this feeling was between them.
He wanted to know if what he had been forced to watch was the reality of relationships.
Could there be something positive instead? Could he trust the feelings that Carver brought out in him?
Gideon remained ramrod straight on the couch, his hands clasped together in his lap. Fury sat in the chair opposite him and crossed his legs. His hands came to rest on the arms of the chair as a smile bloomed across his face.
“I’m a bit shocked that you're here, to be honest. Carver didn't let me know anything had changed. Hearing your voice startled me.”
Gideon nodded, though he didn't speak. His throat felt dry from uttering all those words. Sure it was only a handful, but for someone who never used it, it could have been hours of speech, just the same.
Fury's brow dipped. “I imagine you need water, don't you?”
Gideon didn't have to answer before Fury was rising and moving over to one of the bookshelves. He shifted a picture frame and behind it there was a small device. He pulled it open and retrieved a bottle of water.
When he turned, Fury grinned. There must have been some type of curiosity showing on his face because Fury pointed back over his shoulder and said, "It's a mini fridge. I just keep a few things stocked in case someone needs it."
Gideon accepted the bottle from Fury and cracked it open.
He was happy to know that it hadn't been tampered with like the ones at her house had been.
While there were similarities between the two places he'd been held, he knew that the Angels were different.
Not just in the fact that Carver was their leader and they seemed to respect him rather than fear him, but also in the way the Angels all treated him.
They gave him a wide berth, never stopping or forcing him to speak.
When he had panicked and hurt himself, they came to help him rather than letting him die.
There were no threats against his life or promises of retribution.
It was the calmest Gideon had ever lived to his memory.
After drinking down a few gulps, he placed the water bottle on the floor beside his feet. When he rose back up, Fury was smiling at him again.
"All right then, let's get started. You told me before that you needed help. Can you elaborate? Explain more," he added at the end.
Gideon paused for a moment, not sure where he wanted to start. He could go back to the beginning of what he remembered, or he could start with the last bits.
Instead, his first words were, "I understand you."
Fury nodded. "That's good. Do you mean that you understand English or that you understand I'm a therapist?"
Gideon shook his head. "I know words," he replied. “Speaking got me in trouble before.”
Fury's jaw clenched. It reminded Gideon of how Carver reacted. These men were good at holding back their emotions, at stopping themselves from lashing out.
Deep down, Gideon knew that it wasn't him that was the problem. It was the circumstances.
Fury leaned forward, elbows moving to his knees.
“I want to tell you right now, Gideon, that you're not going to get in trouble for speaking here.
This is a safe place for you to be, not just physically but emotionally and mentally as well.
We want to know what you've been through so we can help you.
We want to know what you're thinking as you're thinking it so we can guide you to a better place.
There is nothing you could say that will make us tell you to leave here.
You're allowed to be an Angel for as long as you want.”
Gideon felt his stomach bubble with excitement over this news.
He'd heard it before but something about today felt different.
It was as if everything was falling into place.
It could have been because he was finally speaking out or maybe it was from earlier when he shared moments with Carver that changed how he felt.
His body's reaction was drastic enough to propel him forward to where he was now, doing something he didn't think was possible just days ago.
“You look as if you're thinking hard about something. If you don't want to talk about it that's fine, but I'll remind you again that I'm here for you,” Fury said.
Gideon cleared his throat before he decided to dive right in. “The woman who kept me never hurt me in the way I think you all think. She didn't touch me or my parts.”
He stumbled over the words. He knew the other ones that people used — cock, dick, penis — but he didn't want to say those right now. It felt too crass. He hadn't learned a different way they could be used if you weren’t being mean.
Gideon didn’t want to be mean.
“You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.” Fury’s words shook him loose.
Gideon continued, “She would never do those things, but her words would cut. She was mean and the men hated me because she treated me special in front of them. They would beat me when she was gone.”
Fury sat up, his hands moving back to the sides of the chair. Gideon focused on the way they tightened against the wooden arms as he continued sharing.
“I don't remember being the Gideon that Carver said I was. I was always called pet and now I'm here, and I'm Carver's sweet boy, and my body is doing things.”
He let out a heavy breath, unsure where to go next.
Fury's hands loosened on the arms of the chair. He seemed to be stuck in his own head too because neither of them spoke for a while.
Eventually, it was Fury who broke the silence by asking, “What has your body been doing?”
Gideon closed his eyes. Not because he wanted to lay down and dream like Fury had suggested. It was more out of embarrassment. Out of a desire to hide so he could avoid the question.
How could he explain to this other man that he wanted touch? He wanted to feel in ways he had never gotten to experience but had witnessed time and time again.
Gideon waved his hand towards his crotch. “It hardened before. And I… I pictured him doing things. Things that I had been made to watch. But those things weren't done with love or kindness. They were hurtful and filled with pain.”
Fury nodded. “I have to admit that this is not at all where I thought this conversation would go.
I'm honored that you chose to speak with me about this, and I want to help you.
Knowing that you were not sexually abused is good news.
However, mental abuse and being made to watch things you don't want to is also quite harmful. The difference here is that we have to combat your mind instead of just your body. Because at this point, your body knows what it wants. It wants Carver.”
Fury's words felt final. They were true in every sense. At least they were from what Gideon understood anyway. It was mostly the bit about him wanting Carver that felt right.
“I do want him,” Gideon said. “But how am I supposed to understand any of it?”
Fury rubbed his hands together, then pressed his palms to his legs. “Let me ask a few questions before we go any deeper. Are you afraid Carver will hurt you that way if you're together or are you afraid of hurting him?”
Gideon swallowed thickly. The thought of either was terrifying. “I would never hurt him, and I don't think he would hurt me.”
“But it's the unknown,” Fury added, his voice confident. “It's not knowing exactly what he'll do and that lack of control has you on edge. It has you unsure.”
Gideon gave him a slow nod. He reached down for his water because his throat was starting to hurt again. All this talking was wearing him down. He could feel exhaustion settling over him again.
Fury must have noticed. “We don't have to keep going today. This is an excellent start. I’ve already learned a lot about what kind of headspace you're in and what we need to work on.
I can pull together some materials for us that we can explore if you want.
We can set up sessions once or twice a week.
Whatever you're comfortable with. We'll meet here, and you can freely speak about what's been on your mind. Does that sound good?”
Gideon gave him a nod, but something was still bothering him.
"I don't know what to do about Carver," he said quickly.
"What do you mean?" Fury asked. "What is it you need to do?"
Gideon shrugged. He didn't have words for what he wanted to say.
While he had been taught the English language in her home through different media types like videos and audiobooks, he didn't always pick up on context.
Fury hadn't asked how he could communicate so well, and Gideon didn't want to have to use that many words to explain it either.