Thirty-Seven
Blake
It’s been weeks since I’ve seen Logan. I can’t stop thinking about him or us.
He said we needed to hang low for a bit, and I’m trying.
It’s hard when this town is so damn small and I see him almost everywhere.
When I don’t see him, I hear his name. Leaving the house has been hard but my dad says it’s good for me.
As if he could really know what is and isn’t.
There are so many people everywhere and they’re always looking at me.
Some shoot me nasty looks, calling me a liar.
There are rumors going around that I wanted to be where I was.
Because Hayden and I had dated before, so to them that means everything that happened between us must’ve been consensual.
“It was some kinky shit they did,” someone from our old friend group told the cops.
They all kept contradicting my statements.
I didn’t stop telling my side to people no matter what they said.
I’ll keep doing it until Hayden is properly charged and locked the fuck away.
He didn’t kidnap me, but he’s done a lot of awful shit that should have landed him in jail plenty of times.
It’s harder to look the other way when it comes to a kidnapping charge.
It doesn’t matter who your dad is and how respected your family name is.
He wasn’t only arrested because of me. They found drugs all throughout the house.
He and Logan’s dad pretty much took over the whole place once his grandpa was placed in an assisted living facility.
Squeezing the handle clutched between my fingers, I collect stuff in the handheld basket, taking out the money my mom gave me when I reach the register.
I’m short by a dollar so I put one thing back, keeping the brownies and hot chocolate.
They were things that made me feel like I was with him when I couldn’t be.
“Okay, got it taken off. You should have enough now.” She totals me out and hands me my change, smiling.
I smile back, putting the coins in the nearby jug. “Thanks,” I say, taking my bag.
“No problem. Have a good day.”
“You too.” I exit the store, stopping when I see Logan loading groceries into an older lady’s trunk.
I walk all the way outside, my feet halting again when she gets in her car and leaves.
Look my way. Please look my way. Let me know you still want me.
He looks everywhere but in my direction, smiling down at his phone.
He looks happy. How can he be when I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest? I can’t eat or sleep.
I’ve lost so much weight since being back in my house, and I move around like a zombie most days.
My dad wants me to go back to work, and it’s one of the reasons my mom keeps arguing with him.
She doesn’t think I’m ready. I avoid him as best I can, but he’s been coming home from work early these last few weeks, joining us for dinner when he never used to before.
Logan still doesn’t look at me when I pass him by. I hit the button on my key fob and his attention stays on whatever he’s looking at on his screen. My heart sinks, and when I’m in my car, I bury my face in my arms, not moving again until my sleeve is drenched in my tears.
I hate it here. I don’t want to be here.
The only place I want to be seems so far away now.
I curl in on myself on my mattress. I laid it on the floor last night, tying a rope from the frame of the bed to my ankle.
I wanted to recreate what I had with him, but it didn’t work.
I thought it would help me get some sleep, but all it did was remind me of what I no longer have.
No one ever wanted me like him. No one ever put forth so much effort for me before.
No one ever made living so easy before either.
I don’t know how to be anymore. No one’s nodding my way to confirm if the choice I’m making is the right one or not.
I didn’t think my plan would keep me away from him for so long and now I regret it.
I hug my blanket, lifting my knees and crying into my hands.
How am I supposed to go on like this? I don’t think I can. He said a few weeks and it’s been that.
Watching the door gets me nowhere either, because back at the barn there was at least a chance that Logan could walk through it and there’s zero chance here. Someone knocks on my door and I don’t bother looking up or asking who it is. My sister and mom are worrying about me too much.
My dad thinks they’re babying me. He’s back to calling me useless and saying it was my fault I was taken.
He thinks I went there willingly to run away from my responsibilities.
Only I never went where he thinks I did, and it wasn’t my choice to be where I originally was.
Not until it was my choice. It was nice not to have so much pressure put on me, though.
I was able to simply be without feeling like it wasn’t enough.
Does he see me as a burden the way my dad does after having to nurse me back to health for so long?
All this time apart is making him realize he doesn’t really want me, isn’t it? He’s had too much time to think about it. He regrets me, doesn’t he? It’s the only explanation as to why he isn’t trying to see me sooner.
My mom suggests I try therapy after two more weeks go by and not much changes. I avoid all the stores and restaurants he goes to, limiting my options. No one ever asks me to go anywhere with them anymore anyway, so it makes it easier. I really did have nothing to come back to.
“You still with me, Blake?” Dr. Mills says, his face taking up more of my laptop screen.
This is our fourth session, and he went over trauma bonding for the first ten minutes. Is that what Logan and I were? Was it nothing more than that? It felt like more. It still does.
“Blake, if you’re not feeling well, we can always continue this another day.”
I look up, meeting his stare. “I . . . sorry. I go away sometimes.”
“Where to?” He straightens his glasses.
“Back to that basement with him.” Except its a barn, not a basement.
His features twist. “You want to talk about it some more? You might feel better if you do.”
I shake my head. “I think I’m getting tired.”
He frowns. “Okay. We’ll cut this session ten minutes short, then, and may I make a suggestion? If you’re struggling to get what happened to you out in words, maybe try using a journal.”
“Yeah. I’ll try that. Thanks.”
“Get some rest and I’ll see you next time.”
He ends the call first and I pull up the search engine, typing in “trauma bond.” I read different articles on it and lift the cursor to a highlighted word that sticks out to me. Stockholm.
Everyone I read about who’s had it sounds like me.
They grew an unhealthy attachment to their captor after learning to lean on them for everything.
My stomach lurches and I slam my laptop closed.
No, that’s not us. They made it sound awful, and we’re a lot of things but that isn’t what we are.
But it would explain why all I can think and dream about is him.
It’s killing me inside to think what we had might not have been real.
I wrap my arms around myself, rocking forward, and a hand on my shoulder stops me. My sister is looking at me with worry in her eyes. “The session over?”
“Yeah. It was a hard one today.”
She nods, sitting beside me. “You think it’s helping?”
I shrug, looking away from her. “Maybe.”
“It’s only been four sessions, so maybe you need to give it time. You’re an amazing guy, Blake. I know you’ll get through this.”
“Yeah.” I rub at the back of my neck, freezing when Hayden shows up on TV. I tense, swallowing hard, and my sister notices a change in my expression, quickly turning it off.
“I’m sorry. I thought I turned it off earlier, but it looks like I only muted it.”
“It’s okay.” I pat her shoulder. “You don’t have to keep tiptoeing around me. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I know.” She presses a kiss to my cheek and I pull her into a hug.
“Thanks for always being here.”
“Of course. I’m your big sister. I’ll always be here when you need me.”
Not like he was. No one could ever be here for me like him, and as long as the words keep coming from all the wrong people, it’ll never be enough.