26. Chapter Twenty-six #4
“You’re a survivor and an operative, Ace.
You’re part of both groups, if you let yourself be.
But the survivor in you is hidden. I don’t know why you did that.
It could have been a coping mechanism, or maybe you just wanted to feel normal as you started meeting others outside of the house and made friends.
Maybe you wanted us to believe you were better, so we’d let you start helping with the operations.
Maybe you decided you were as good as you were going to get and it was time to accept that and move on.
Maybe something else. Maybe you don’t even know. ”
There was a night, a few weeks after Keaton had brought me to Kellan, when I had spent hours awake staring into the darkness above me.
He had helped me stick stars to the bedroom ceiling.
They weren’t as pretty as the ones outside, but they were still nice.
I liked the green-ish glow of them. I liked that I could squint my eyes and convince myself I was outside again.
One unstuck that night, though. As I was watching. It just let go of the ceiling and fell.
It was stupid. It was the most stupid thing. It was just a fucking star sticker that glowed in the dark.
But I had lost it.
I had screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
Kellan couldn’t get me to stop. Keaton, once he showed up after Kellan had called him, couldn’t either. I screamed until I passed out from exhaustion, everything inside of me dropped out like that star had dropped from the sky.
I want to scream.
I want to scream so bad.
“Every day that you wake up, you’re a survivor.
Every goddamn day. And I’m sorry for that, Ace.
I am so, so sorry that you have to be a survivor for the rest of your life.
I’m sorry there isn’t a finish line. I’m sorry trauma can’t be fixed with a 10-day prescription and some rest. But running away from that for the rest of your life won't change that, kid. It’ll only make things worse.
“Every day you wake up and pretend you aren’t a survivor, every day you shove all of that way down deep and cover that little boy in it instead, you are adding more trauma to the pile, not less.
You are creating a timebomb inside of yourself.
That’s what your nightmares are - the clock ticking down.
Have you been getting triggered while awake?
Words used to do it. Jake has a particular kink, I recently discovered. Do you know about it?”
I have to swallow three times before I manage a croaked, “Daddy.”
“How does it make you feel hearing that word now?”
I squeeze my eyes shut like I can hide from the question.
I’ve always been so good at hiding.
“I respect it.”
“You can respect it and hate it at the same time.” When I don’t answer, he speaks again. He’s closer this time. I can hear it. I can feel the heat of him. “You can respect it and still hear those men’s voices overlapping on top of whoever said it.”
Be good for daddy.
Oh, daddy’s sweet little boy, look at you.
You’ll call me daddy or I’ll take it out on your fucking ass.
It’s the funniest thing - I’ve never had a dad, but the amount of men who declared themselves as my daddy in that bedroom with the closet was innumerable.
“Bryce came to me, a while back.” I don’t know why I tell him. Or maybe I do.
He exhales hard enough to hear it. “What happened?”
“Told me he’d-” I can’t say it, though. I can’t say the words he’d said. Just the potential of them burns my throat.
He gives me a minute before moving past me to lean back against the wall, his eyes meeting mine. They aren’t as sad as I expected them to be. In fact, there’s a hint of a smile in his lips.
I can’t look at it. At him. I want to hide. It’s not what I’m supposed to do, it’s exactly what he just called me out for doing, but every fiber of my being is begging me to run and hide.
“I can’t do this,” I tell him. “Please. I - not tonight. I need a break.”
He never once told me I had to keep going when I reached my limit in the past, and he doesn’t tell me now either. He just nods and smiles a little, then says, “I’m proud of you for coming.”
I want to hide from that too.
I barely manage a nod before forcing my feet to move me to the door. It feels like I didn’t get any of the sleep I did when with Keaton. Hell, I feel even more exhausted than before meeting him.
“Do you remember what I told you when you asked my opinion on Kellan finally letting you be part of an operation?” he asks just as I’m reaching out for the door handle.
I pause. He doesn’t wait for me to respond.
“This is it. This is your chance to finally heal yourself. To face your trauma head on and take your power back, instead of burying it beneath new power. This is when you finally stop running from your origin story. It’s time. It is past time.”
I curl in on myself, the metal beneath my hand cold, the ground beneath my feet tilting.
“The deal with Keaton is that you’ll take better care of yourself and you’ll meet with me regularly.
I’m holding you to it. You will not shut down again.
You will not add this whole conversation, and everything leading up to it, to the pile ontop of that little boy.
That part of your healing journey is done. ”
I lean my forehead against the doorframe.
“How about you tell me what happened with Bryce two days from now. After dinner. You can always come sooner, of course.”
Two days.
After dinner.
Sometimes dinner makes Matt upset. He might need to come to my office. He might need a place to hide.
But he knows he can lock the door when I’m not there - both locks. He’s done that before. He’ll be alright.
“Two days from now,” I agree, my voice hoarse. “After dinner.”
“I’m not asking you to yank that boy to the surface and drown in everything that comes up with him, okay?
I want you to keep your mind busy. Don’t sit in this feeling you’re in right now.
I want you to go on, business as usual, except for how you take care of yourself.
Do the grounding techniques I taught you whenever your mind starts to spin or the walls close in.
Journal your nightmares if you can’t shake them.
Sleep, Ace. In your bedroom. Eat. Take a bubble bath.
Talk to someone, if there’s someone here you’re close to.
You don’t have to tell them about your past, just talk to them. About anything. Let yourself connect.”
“Is that homework, doc?”
“It is, actually. I’ll be asking how well you did when we meet two days from now. I don’t expect miracles, but I expect you to try. Understood?”
I close my eyes, feeling torn between that little boy, terrified and alone, trapped in the darkness of that closet, and the man I am today as I stand here.
Maybe not so much torn as I am doubled. Maybe I’m finally just now aware that both exist inside of me, cohabitating to create the wreck that stands before him.
I want, more than anything, to feel better. But not knowing what that looks like? Not knowing what that will make me? That’s maybe the most terrifying thing I’ve had to face so far.
“Ace?”
That’s not my name.
But it is - because I chose for it to be. It’s the thing that’s most mine. The first thing that ever was.
“Yeah,” I murmur. Then, after clearing my throat, “Yeah, Adam. I understand.”