The Darkness Consumes

Chapter 10 Dreaded confessions

Viv sat stiffly in the armchair, arms folded tight across his chest. His foot bounced in place, restless. Dr. Jacobs sat across from him, legs crossed, notepad balanced on one knee, his pen moving with gentle rhythm. Calm. Too calm.

"So," Dr. Jacobs began, voice smooth, like the start of every other session, "how are you feeling today?"

Viv didn't meet his eyes. "I'm fine."

"Let's start with what you're thinking about," the doctor continued. "Anything come to mind?"

Viv shifted in his seat. "Like what?"

"I don't know," Jacobs said with a casual shrug. "Could be anything. How about what happened at breakfast?"

Viv's jaw tightened. "What about it?"

"Well," Jacobs said patiently, "how do you feel about it?"

"I feel nothing about it," Viv said flatly. "It has nothing to do with me."

"But it might have still made you feel something," Jacobs pressed, voice still even, but with a gentle push.

Viv stared at the floor for a while, the silence stretching. His jaw clenched, throat dry. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to feel anything about it.

Finally, quietly, he muttered, "It made me feel... small."

Jacobs's pen paused. "Small?"

"Like my problems don't matter," Viv said, still not looking up. "Like... I'm wasting everyone's time."

"And why did it make you feel like that?"

Viv's voice dropped, quieter than before.

"I just... I mean, I'm not crazy, you know?

I don't have bipolar or whatever, like Ava.

I'm not fragile and I don't self harm like Ash.

I'm not... I mean, I'm not like them. I just get sad sometimes.

Tired. That's it. I feel bad that I'm in here.

That I'm taking up a bed some other guy with worse problems could take. "

Jacobs nodded. "It's not a competition," the doctor said gently, "to see who needs help the most."

Viv's laugh was bitter. "Shouldn't it be, though?

I mean, I'm fine. I'm totally fine. All I do is sleep all day, to be honest. But what if there's someone out there who actually needs this place?

Like... real help? But they can't get in.

Because people like me, who just get a little sad, are taking up all the space. "

Jacobs tilted his head. "What are you suggesting?"

"That you should let me go home."

"Is that what you want?"

Viv scoffed. "Is that even a question?"

Jacobs leaned forward slightly. "Viv, I think you need to be honest about why you're really here. If you are, you'll get out of here a lot faster."

"Honest about what?" Viv snapped. "I am being honest!"

Silence again. Jacobs shifted slightly, eyes studying him.

"Do you remember Halloween night?" he asked.

Viv blinked, caught off guard. "Halloween?"

"While you were at college," Jacobs clarified. "There was a Halloween party. Do you remember it?"

Viv frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question. Do you remember it?"

"I... I don't know." His voice wavered, fingers curling around the edge of the chair.

"You gave your roommate a pretty big scare," Jacobs said, pen tapping softly against the pad. "Don't you remember?"

Viv's mind blanked. Nothing came up. Just vague shapes and noise. "Why are we talking about this?" he asked, the edge returning to his voice. "Nothing happened on Halloween. What's the point?"

"Viv—"

"I went to a party and got drunk! It's not a big deal. Everyone does that."

Jacobs kept his voice level. "So did you black out?"

Viv's body stiffened. "What?"

"You said you don't remember. So you must've blacked out, right?"

"I... yeah. Probably. I don't know. I don't remember."

"Did you take any drugs that night?"

"I don't do drugs!"

Jacobs's tone didn't change. "Are you sure?"

"I'm fucking sure, doc. What's with all the questions?" Viv's voice was rising, hot, defensive. "Why are you asking me about Halloween? Shouldn't you be trying to talk to me about shit that actually matters?"

Jacobs didn't flinch. "Why are you getting so defensive?"

"I'm not getting defensive! I just think this is a waste of my fucking time!"

Viv shoved himself out of the chair, his whole body tense like a wire pulled tight. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, shaking slightly.

"The session isn't over, Viviano," Jacobs said firmly.

Viv turned sharply, face twisted in rage. "Viv! My name is fucking Viv! Why won't you just call me by name?"

"I apologise," Jacobs said, calm and quiet.

But it was too late.

Viv grabbed the chair he'd just been sitting in and, with a guttural noise, hurled it across the room. The legs struck the office door with a deafening CRASH, the glass in the upper panel shattering instantly, raining tiny pieces like frozen raindrops.

Silence.

The remains of the chair clattered against the wall and slid to the floor.

Viv stood there, chest heaving, a storm behind his eyes.

And all he felt was the pounding in his head and the unbearable weight in his chest. His chest heaved like he couldn't get enough air in his lungs.

His pulse was thunder in his ears. Everything inside him buzzed—rage, shame, confusion, something raw and slippery he couldn't name.

His hands were still clenched into fists, but when he finally looked down, he saw them trembling.

They didn't even feel like his. The fingers twitching.

The skin pale and taut. He didn't remember grabbing the chair.

Didn't remember the sound it made when it hit the door.

Just the aftermath. Shards of glass glittered on the floor like ice, catching the sterile light.

He swallowed hard, throat dry, his mouth metallic. A lump sat heavy in his chest, like something terrible trying to climb its way out. His heart kept pounding.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or cry or throw up.

Then he looked up and froze. Through the jagged hole in the glass, the angry male nurse stood staring in. His arms were folded across his chest, lips set in a hard, unimpressed line. He wasn't rushing in. He didn't look shocked. Just furious and tired.

Viv met his glare, something ice-cold settling in his gut. For a second, he felt ten years old again—caught doing something bad, about to get punished, and too angry to feel sorry about it but too scared to act tough.

Behind Viv, Dr. Jacobs remained still, calm as ever. "I'll call someone to clean that up," the doctor said quietly, like Viv hadn't just exploded. Like the room wasn't a scene from a breakdown.

Viv didn't respond. He couldn't. He just stood there, staring at the nurse on the other side of the broken glass, the weight of what he'd done sinking slowly into his bones. And all he could think was: Great. Now they really won't let me go.

~

Time passed, but Viv barely noticed it.

After the outburst in therapy, nobody dragged him to the dinner hall like they usually did.

No coaxing from nurses. No fake cheerful reminders about "routine" and "structure.

" They just... let him be. Dr. Jacobs must've made some sort of call, because Viv was allowed to stay in his room for the rest of the day, curled up in bed like a ghost pressed into a mattress.

No one said it, but he knew it was damage control.

Ash didn't speak to him. Not once. He'd come in and out of the room with quiet steps, like walking on glass.

Never made eye contact. Never said his usual dry remarks or asked if Viv wanted to go to the rec room.

Just moved around him like Viv was something fragile—or dangerous.

Maybe both. Which meant that Ash had definitely heard about what happened. The chair. The glass. The shouting.

And now it was late. Past lights out. The ward was still, dipped in quiet except for the occasional sound of doors creaking, the distant clatter of a cart, the buzz of fluorescent lights humming down the corridor.

Viv lay on his back, eyes wide open, staring at the square window above his bed. It was too high to reach, too small to climb through, but the moonlight managed to leak in anyway—soft and silvery, brushing pale across the wall.

He watched it without blinking. He didn't feel tired.

He felt... hollow.

Like his body had been scooped out and filled with static. Like something inside him had split, and now all that was left was a cold ache he couldn't explain.

Ash was still across the room. Still silent. Still pretending, maybe, that Viv wasn't there.

And Viv didn't blame him.

He wouldn't want to be near him either.

Viv blinked up at the window, his vision beginning to blur. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face into the pillow, jaw tightening as heat stung behind his eyelids.

No.

Not again.

His throat burned. He clenched his fists in the sheets and forced himself to breathe evenly, quietly, like maybe if he pretended hard enough, none of it was happening. Tears slipped out anyway.

God, what the hell was wrong with him?

He hadn't cried like this before he came here. Not really. Not since he was a kid with skinned knees and bruised palms, wailing over a busted bike chain and scraped elbows. Back then it made sense—when you were little and dumb and didn't know better. But this?

This was pathetic.

He felt weak. Like everything inside him was just unraveling thread by thread and all he could do was sit and watch it fall apart.

What had this place done to him?

He wasn't emotional. He wasn't this soft, breakable person who cried in the dark over shit he couldn't even name.

At least, he didn't used to be.

"Waterworks again?" Ash's voice cut softly through the dark, a gentle tease hanging off his words.

Viv flinched, jerking slightly beneath his blanket. He hadn't realised Ash was still awake. His heart pounded, his eyes flicking toward the other bed where he could just make out a vague shape in the moonlight.

"Fuck off," Viv mumbled, though there wasn't much bite behind it.

"Ouch," Ash replied, but he didn't sound offended. If anything, he sounded... concerned.

A long silence stretched between them.

"Are you okay?" Ash asked after a moment, voice lower, more cautious now.

"No." Viv's voice cracked on the word.

Ash shifted slightly in his bed, the mattress springs creaking quietly. "What can I do to help?"

Viv exhaled slowly, shakily. "Get me the hell out of here."

"I wish I could," Ash said, and he meant it.

The room filled again with quiet.

"Where would you go?" Ash asked gently.

"What?"

"If you got out of here, like, right now. Where would you go?"

Viv blinked up at the ceiling. "I don't know. Probably home."

"Who lives with you?"

"My brother," Viv said after a breath, "and my parents."

"Are they nice?"

Viv didn't answer. He just stared harder at the faint moonlight on the wall like it might offer him an excuse.

"Your brother seems nice," Ash added carefully, like he was trying not to pry too much.

"So does yours," Viv replied, rolling onto his side, facing the wall.

"Even though he kinda told you off?" There was a small trace of amusement in Ash's voice.

"He had a right to."

"I guess," Ash said softly.

"Who lives at your house?" Viv asked.

"Me, Brad, my mum, and my stepdad."

"Nice happy family?"

Ash let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "We are now."

Silence fell again—heavy but not uncomfortable this time. Like a shared pause between two people not used to speaking aloud.

"Why d'you do it?" Ash asked eventually, his voice barely audible.

Viv's throat went dry. He stared at the wall, unsure how to answer. He knew what Ash meant. What he was referring to. God, he was so embarrassed. "I don't know," he said at last.

"That's not a good answer."

"I know."

"Do you have anger issues?"

"I don't think so."

"Then you need to figure out what happened," Ash said gently. "Because normal people don't throw chairs at glass doors."

"I... I didn't... I mean, I..." Viv trailed off, his chest tightening.

"It's okay. I get it."

"Do you?" Viv turned slightly, peering across the room into the dark.

"Sometimes I do shit I can't explain too."

Viv blinked. "Like what?"

Silence.

What was going on inside Ash's head? Viv really wanted to know.

The fact that they mostly talked at night after lights out didn't annoy Viv.

Actually, it was pretty nice. Just them, the moonlight and the four walls surrounding them.

No prying ears, no angry nurses and nobody to tell them that what they were feeling wasn't valid. Just him and Ash.

Ash shifted again. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before. "Like hurt myself."

Viv swallowed thickly, his heart stumbling in his chest. "H... How do you usually hurt yourself?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Viv replied instantly.

"Why?"

"I just wanna know."

Ash chuckled. "You're nosey."

"Sue me."

"I would if I could."

"Just tell me," Viv said, a little softer now.

Another silence. This one longer. Ash didn't answer. Instead, he said, "You know, when I first got here, Ava told me that she tried to escape and got pretty close."

Viv blinked, confused by the shift. "You're changing the subject."

"I'm helping you."

"How? By telling me to ask Ava for an escape plan?" Viv asked dryly.

"I never said it was a good idea. I'm just stating a fact."

"It'll never work. This place is like a fortress," Viv muttered. "And I'm pretty sure they're going to put me on some meds soon anyway."

"Maybe you need them," Ash said softly.

"Maybe," Viv murmured.

They both lay there, quiet again, surrounded by the thick stillness of night. Viv didn't say it aloud, but in that moment, he was oddly grateful for Ash's voice in the dark.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Just the distant hum of the building, the faint sound of someone coughing down the hall, the creak of metal bed frames when they shifted.

Then Ash spoke, his voice slow and thoughtful.

"Can I ask you something?"

Viv rolled over, now on his back again, eyes fixed on the faint shape of the ceiling. "You just did."

Ash huffed a small, amused breath. "Why don't you like your full name?"

Viv tensed.

There was a pause before he answered. His throat worked around the words, but for a second, he didn't say anything.

He wasn't used to people asking. Not really.

Most people just shrugged it off when he corrected them.

Or worse, they ignored it and used Viviano anyway, like it was no big deal.

But Ash was different.

Viv sighed through his nose. "It's my Nonno's name."

"Nonno?" Ash asked hesitantly

"My grandfather."

Ash waited.

Viv's voice was quieter when he continued. "He's... not a nice man. I don't want to be associated with it. With him. But my Ma... she always calls me that. Viviano. Even though I've told her a million times not to. It's like she does it just to piss me off."

His words came out flat, but underneath, there was that same ache, like a wound that never really healed, just kept getting bumped into.

"I don't know," Viv mumbled, "maybe it's stupid."

"It's not stupid," Ash said, firm but gentle. "It makes sense."

Viv let out a bitter breath. "She says it's disrespectful to hate the name. Says it's family."

"Family doesn't get a free pass to make you feel like shit," Ash said.

That startled a faint laugh out of Viv. It was short and dull, but it was real. "Yeah, try telling her that. She doesn't listen. She never listens."

"Do you not get along?" Ash asked quietly, voice half-lost in the stillness of the room.

Viv stared at the ceiling for a beat, his jaw tightening. He hesitated, chewing over his words like they tasted wrong. "If I tell you my family sob story," he said slowly, "will you tell me yours?"

Ash didn't answer at first. Viv turned his head just slightly, enough to see Ash's silhouette curled in his bed across the room. There was a pause, long enough for Viv to think the question would be dodged again.

Then Ash said, "Yeah. I will."

Viv scoffed, not bothering to hide the bitterness laced in his tone. "Actually, never mind. You said you'd tell me last time, and you didn't. You little liar."

Ash let out a quiet laugh, the kind that came with guilt. "I promise I will this time."

"Oh yeah?" Viv said dryly. "And how can I trust you?"

"You just can," Ash replied, far too casually for Viv's liking.

"Sorry, no deal. You'll just break your promise again."

"Technically I didn't promise last time," Ash said, which only earned him a louder scoff.

"See? You're already doing it," Viv muttered, rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

"Okay, okay—fine!" Ash said quickly, and before Viv could respond, there was a rustle of blankets and the sound of feet hitting the floor.

Viv blinked as Ash suddenly appeared beside him in the dark, his figure softly lit by the moonlight slanting in through the small window.

Ash didn't say anything. He just sat on the edge of Viv's bed, cross-legged and casual, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then, without a word, he held out his hand—pinky finger extended, the gesture childish but somehow sacred in the quiet tension of the room.

Viv stared at it.

"You're joking," he said flatly, not moving.

Ash didn't pull his hand back. "Promise. Properly, this time."

The silence stretched for another second... then two. Finally, with a sigh that sounded too exhausted to be genuine, Viv reached out and hooked his pinky around Ash's. His skin was warm and soft, nothing like Viv expected.

"Fine," Viv muttered, clearing his throat. "But if you lie again, I'm throwing you at the door instead of a chair."

Ash grinned, their fingers still linked. "Deal."

Viv didn't let go of Ash's pinky right away. He kept his eyes on their hands for a moment, thumb brushing lightly against the inside of his own palm like he was grounding himself. Then he finally spoke, voice low and steady.

"My mum's a stickler for perfect," he said. "Like, capital P perfect. Everything has to be neat, proper, polite... respectable."

Ash stayed quiet, letting him speak.

"She never really gets on Matteo's case," Viv went on.

"Not like she does mine. He's the oldest, so he gets this kind of free pass, like he already proved himself or something.

But me?" He gave a hollow laugh. "She's always watching me.

Always has something to say. Clothes too wrinkled.

Grades not good enough. Attitude too sharp. Hair not in place."

Ash tilted his head. "But you tried, right?"

Viv nodded slowly, the movement almost imperceptible.

"So hard. I worked my ass off in high school.

Studied until my eyes hurt, handed everything in early, even joined those dumb extracurriculars she was always pushing for.

I never had many friends growing up because I was always indoors, getting tutored or doing my homework.

I barely had a life of my own and still, it was never enough. "

Ash's voice was gentle when he asked, "Did you tell her how that made you feel?"

Viv looked at him like he'd asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

"She doesn't listen. I've told her a million times not to call me Viviano.

It makes my skin crawl, but she still does.

Says it's a 'beautiful, strong name' because it was my grandfather's.

" His nose wrinkled. "But he wasn't a beautiful, strong person.

He was an asshole. An abusive, loud-mouthed asshole who only ever cared about money and looks. "

Ash didn't say anything for a moment. He just nodded like he understood, like he was filing all the details away.

Viv glanced at him sideways. "She always wants me to be this polished version of someone I'm not. But I don't think I ever had a chance to be... me."

Ash looked down at their pinkies still hooked and his cheeks warmed a little. Viv didn't even realise their pinky's were still attached until he caught Ash's eyes staring at them and then he quickly pulled his away.

Ash cleared his throat. "Maybe that's what this place is for."

Viv gave a sharp exhale through his nose. "Right. Finding myself through mandatory therapy and ugly walls."

Ash smirked. "Could be worse."

"Could be better," Viv muttered. "Your turn."

Ash's smirk faded. He picked at a loose thread on Viv's blanket, shoulders tensing ever so slightly. The air shifted again, heavier this time. It wasn't suffocating, just quiet in that way silence gets when something serious is about to settle in.

"My turn, huh," Ash murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Okay. You remember I told you... about my dad. That he used to hit us."

Viv nodded, careful not to say anything. Not yet.

"Well... it didn't start that way," Ash continued slowly.

"At first, it was just... words. Not like, casual yelling.

It was constant. Picking apart everything I did.

How I sat. How I spoke. If I cried, I was weak.

If I didn't, I was heartless. Nothing was ever right.

And he knew how to make me feel... small.

Like I wasn't a person. Just this thing he could mold or break depending on his mood. "

Viv stayed still, every nerve tuned into Ash's voice.

"I started flinching every time he walked past me.

That's when the physical stuff began. It was.

.. it got bad. Slaps turned into punches.

Belts. Bruises I couldn't explain at school.

" Ash paused. Swallowed hard. "But the worst part wasn't the bruises," he said, quieter now, like he was afraid the words might echo. "It's what came after."

Viv's eyes flickered to him, cautious, but he didn't interrupt.

Ash stared at the floor. "There was this night. I was twelve. Mum was working late. He'd been drinking. I guess I said something wrong, I don't even remember what, but he grabbed me. Took me upstairs. And..." He trailed off, jaw tightening.

Viv's breath caught.

Ash's voice cracked as he forced himself to keep talking. "He... he did things. Things that... that—" His hand balled into a fist. "I told my mum the next morning. I didn't even mean to. I just—I broke. I was crying and shaking and my whole body hurt and... and I told her everything."

Viv's chest ached. He felt like the air had left the room.

"She believed me," Ash said quickly. "She didn't even hesitate.

Packed our bags while he was still passed out.

Took me and got us the hell out of there.

We went to a women's shelter first, then moved in with her sister until she found a place of her own.

Then she met Christ, and they got together and we moved in with him and his son.

Brad. That's how I have the family I have now. "

Ash finally looked up, eyes glassy but defiant.

"I'm safe now. I know that. But sometimes.

.. it still messes me up. I'll hear a voice, or footsteps down the hall, and suddenly I'm back in that house.

It's like I'm twelve again, and I'm frozen.

I hate that. I hate how easy it is to fall back into it, Sometimes I can't even touch other people without freaking out. "

Viv didn't know what to say. For a second, he wanted to reach out, maybe touch Ash's shoulder or his hand or something, but he didn't move. He just looked at him, really looked at him, and said quietly, "That wasn't your fault."

Ash gave a small frown. "Everyone says that."

"They say it because it's true."

Ash nodded, but the look in his eyes said it still hadn't fully settled in.

Viv's voice was softer this time. "I'm really fucking sorry, Ash."

Ash sniffled once, wiped his nose on his sleeve like a kid, and gave a crooked shrug. "It's whatever."

They sat like that for a while, not saying anything.

Ash leaned back slightly, his hands fidgeting in his lap now, fingers pulling at the sleeves of his hoodie. His voice was quiet again, but steadier, like he was working his way through something he'd never said aloud before.

"I think that's when it started."

"When what started?" Viv asked with a frown.

"My gender identity crisis."

Viv blinked, unsure where it was going. He stayed quiet.

Ash sighed. "My dad... he used to say things.

About how I acted. About my voice, my face, my body.

If I cried, he'd call me pathetic. If I froze up, he'd say I was a failure.

Kept saying things like, 'You're not a man, you're barely even a fucking boy.

'" His voice tightened at the memory. "And I guess.

.. after a while, I started to believe him.

Started to think maybe being a boy wasn't right for me. Or maybe I was just doing it wrong."

Viv's chest ached again, the words sinking in heavy and fast.

"I don't know if I'm non-binary, or genderfluid, or just... broken," Ash muttered, his gaze dropping to his knees. "But I do know that every time someone calls me a 'he,' I get this weird feeling. Like I'm wearing clothes that don't fit right."

There was a long, tense pause.

And all Viv could think—the first thing that shot to the front of his mind like a bullet—was: So Ash is biologically a guy.

The thought echoed, cold and unwanted. And it made him feel awful.

Like he was missing the point. Like some part of him had been waiting for that confirmation and now that he had it, he didn't know what to do with it except hate himself for caring at all.

He shifted on the bed, guilt roiling in his gut like bile.

Ash hadn't noticed, he was staring off, eyes distant, mouth pressed into a tight line. Vulnerable. Raw. Viv forced himself to refocus. To actually hear Ash. "I'm sorry," he said, voice low.

Ash blinked, glancing sideways at him. "For what?"

Viv shrugged. "That your dad made you feel like shit. That he made you question who you are. That he made any of this harder."

Ash gave a weak nod. "Thanks."

They were quiet again for a while, both sitting in the soft blue of the moonlight spilling in from the small window above.

Eventually, Viv swallowed and said, "You're not broken."

Ash looked at him. Not like before, this time it was more curious. Like he wanted to believe him but didn't know how.

"I mean it," Viv said. "Even if you don't know what you are yet. That doesn't make you wrong. It makes you human."

Ash didn't reply. But after a long moment, he shuffled over and ever so slightly leaned against Viv's shoulder. Just a brush. Just a second.

Viv didn't pull away. He just shifted slightly, the weight of Ash against his shoulder lingering, warm and strange and not entirely uncomfortable. The silence between them had changed. It was softer now, not heavy like before—just quiet in a way that felt kind of safe.

Viv rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, then glanced toward the sliver of moonlight on the floor. "...We should probably lay down," he murmured.

Ash tilted his head to look at him. "Is it... weird if we stay in the same bed?"

Viv blinked, taken off guard—not by the suggestion, but by the way Ash asked it. Carefully. Like he already expected rejection. Like he was used to it.

"I mean," Ash continued quickly, "you don't have to. I just— I don't really wanna be alone right now."

Viv looked at him—really looked. His face was tired, his green eyes still a little glassy from earlier, his voice pulled thin from everything he'd admitted tonight. And Viv felt that ache again, the one that made it hard to breathe, like something was pressing on his chest from the inside.

"...It's not weird," Viv said finally, his voice quiet. "Come on."

Ash blinked, then gave a small, almost shy nod before crawling back onto the bed beside Viv.

They didn't say anything as they shifted, both laying on their backs now, staring up at the ceiling.

There wasn't much space, but they didn't need much.

Their shoulders touched, faint and steady.

And in the dark, with the faint sound of someone snoring down the hall and the creak of old pipes humming behind the walls, Viv let his eyes close—just a little.

Not asleep. But closer than he'd been in a while.