FicWad

As I finished cleaning the men’s bathroom, down the sterilized hall from my room, I made my way to my therapist's office, my footsteps echoing painfully with each stride I took. Once entering the small lobby, the receptionist told me to sit down and wait as Dr. Klien was just finishing up with her appointment. I simply nodded, completely accustomed to the routine by now, I mean back when I had to pay for this shit, I came here frequently. Living here just made things even more repetitive. As I sunk down into the hard cushioned chair, I began to nervously pick at my nails. My therapist said that I was doing well and today she was going to have me do a special exercise. I honestly had no idea what was up that woman's sleeve.

Eventually, I heard the loud creaking of the frosted door as it opened and I looked up from the stubs I call fingernails to see a middle aged woman with red-rimmed eyes walk out, with my therapist behind her. As my therapist saw the woman off, I stood and made my way to the door office that held all of my secrets. If those walls could talk… I walked in and sat on the familiar couch that comforted me while I had to expel my inner thoughts to a complete stranger.

After a few more moments my therapist walked in and smiled warmly at me, “Hello Frank. How are you today?” She asked as she made her way to the chair across from me, her stiletto heels clicking annoyingly against the laminated floor. She sat down, grabbed her notepad and pen, before crossing her stocking clad legs as she watched me, waiting for an answer. She had to be the youngest therapist I’d seen, but I guessed that was a good thing. She still cared; she still wanted to help me recover. She hadn’t grown old, withered and cynical – which was bound to happen. It always did.

“I'm okay. Some guy puked in the bathroom.” I mumbled playing with the strings of my sweatshirt. Conversation was guaranteed to be awkward. I didn’t like talking about what happened. Everyone called it rape but it didn’t seem like rape to me. It wasn’t like I enjoyed it mentally; far from it. Every moment haunted me. It probably always will. It was more a violation of my mind. That may I add is not punishable by law. It’s not even a fucking crime. Why do I feel this way? Because my body reacted the same way it did when Jepha touched me in the same way as he had. It had betrayed me to be the freakish scum I was. However, I couldn’t bear to blame myself for wrecking my own life so I blamed him. Partly it was his fault; his dirty threats resulted in my ultimate sacrifice of the perfect domestic life… Other than that, I saw it as my own mistake, but I’d rather not admit that to anyone. Everybody else told me it was his fault, so why not agree to keep myself sane.“So, yeah I had to clean that up.”

She nodded and wrote something on her pad of criticism. Seriously, why was she writing about me cleaning puke? Was what I said some hidden metaphor for wanting to kill myself? Apparently so, because she just looked at me with her squinting eyes and clasped her hands together, her pen sticking up in the middle of the two of her polish nails.

“How are you feeling, then? Have you been having those nightmares recently?” She asked watching me.

“Uh, sometimes?” I didn't really know what to say. She knows I have them all the time. Every time my eyes close I see what happened to me. On some extremely bad nights I can even feel it, my skin would burn where I remember his touch falling. It was… a living hell.

“And what do you do when you have those nightmares?” She asked, her right polished hand returning to writing on that fucking pad. The noise driving me insane, she never started off like this, she usually jumped straight to the point. Like when she wanted to try hypnotherapy for me to come to terms with the fact I was raped… I wasn’t raped, not in my own opinion. Rape victims are innocent and undeserving but no one else understood that I wasn’t. No one comes when they’re truly raped.

“Um, I wake up?” I spoke hesitantly, forgetting she even existed. What the hell does this woman want me to say?

“And after you wake up? Do you try and go back to sleep?” She questioned, her eyes watching me as she wrote. How can she even do that?

“No.” I answered simply. I never went back to sleep after the nightmares. The nightmares came back worse if I do. Every action, every sensation amplified.

“So then what do you do?” She asked immediately. Her red framed glasses glinted at me as her light blue stare appeared to scrutinize me.

“Nothing.” I mumbled. She just nodded and wrote something once again on that fucking pad. I really wanted to get up and rip the thing to shreds.

After a few minutes of listening to the pen scratching against the white paper, Dr. Klien sat up a bit straighter and looked at me with a huge smile on her face. “So, Frank, remember when I told you I had an exercise for you to do today?” She asked and I just nodded, not really sure if I was ready to know what she was about to tell me. At least she was back to her usual approach; straight to the point. “Well, I also work with a group of sex addicts ...” Her voice faded from my ears. Sex addicts? My attacker was a sex addict. She wanted me to do something with sex addicts? She wanted me to face my attacker…? Was he here…? Did they find him…? Shouldn't he be in jail…? Of course he wouldn't be in jail; I got off on it too. I came as the man violated me. The court wouldn't call that rape. They'd call if 'rough consensual sex', a jury would never find him guilty. I felt so disgusting.

“Frank? Frank!” I heard the voice push back into my thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?”

I just shook my head and swallowed. I couldn't face my attacker.

“Oh, well. I said I work with a group of sex addicts and I think that it would be a good idea for you and them, if you talked to them and told them your story. To let them know what they do to people, and hopefully recalling the story will open your eyes to the truth you seem to fabricate to save your pride.” She spoke, still watching me. Whatever. I wasn’t raped.

She wanted me to be a spokesperson for rape victims? Why me? Why couldn't I just go to therapy, get better, and then go home? Why did she have to do all these extra exercises?

“But Frank you have to make sure that they know that they are not monsters. Just because your attacker raped you, doesn't mean that they are all rapists, okay?” I glared at her, she needed to shut up about rape.

“I wasn't raped! I wanted it. He knew I wanted it. He told me I wanted it. I wanted it!” I yelled, my fists clenching in anger, I had at first thought he’d raped me. Then long after I’d confided in my mother I had realized I was a liar. I wasn’t raped and I need therapy to come to terms with the fact I was sick. Not to come to terms with the fact I was raped.

“Frank, you were raped and telling these addicts is good for you. It'll help you come to realize this. You need to be able to accept it to get past it.” She spoke quickly, obviously trying to make me believe something that wasn't true.

“I'm not talking to them.” I stated firmly, starting to get up from the couch. This bitch was crazy. I wasn't going into a room full of these monsters, addicts are monsters no matter what they’re addicted to. They were all just like him! They were going to sense the sickness in me, like he did. And then I’d never be rid of these things.

“Frank, you need to. You need to come to terms with this. It will help you.”

“No! I’m not fucking talking to those freaks! I won't do it! I wasn't fucking raped! Stop trying to tell me I was!” I stood up and I was already starting to shake, my breath becoming rapid and swallow. “I'm not fucking doing it!” My breathing rate increased as I could feel my lungs pressing up against my ribcage; my chest heaving dramatically. I grabbed onto the wall as I felt my head grow light.

The room started to spin around me and colours began to merge and mix together. I felt arms around me, in a soothing way. “Frank, calm down. It's okay.” I heard the feminine voice speak into my ear.

“No, I can't do it. I can't. Don't make me. Please.” I begged, still trying to stand with the spinning room.

“Calm down, Frank.” Was the only response that she had for me and soon I was calm. I was still shaking, but I was calm and I knew, I wasn't going to fucking do this. I was not going to talk to any of those fucking creeps. I wanted to go home. I wanted to get out of here. I wanted Jepha. I wanted my old self back. I wanted to escape the fact I’d ripped my own life apart.

“Frank, look at me.” Dr. Klien said after a few minutes as my breathing returned to normal, and I did. “You can't hide from this anymore. I know it's hard, but it'll help you. You have to trust me, okay? I'll be right there with you. None of them will hurt you. Okay?” She spoke softly and she kind of reminded me of my mother. And then I thought about my mother. My poor lonely mother alone in that house, living pay check to pay check. I remembered the way she cried when I told her what happened. I remembered when she hugged me tight, paying to God that I would recover. I remembered walking downstairs, seeing her fingers clasped tightly around her rosary beads as she prayed in privacy that her baby boy would start acting like himself again. I remembered her kissing my forehead as she left me in my room at the rehabilitation center, telling me that it would be okay and telling me that she was proud of me for being strong. I wasn't strong, not yet anyway. I needed to get better so I could get home to my mother, I needed to make her proud and I needed to appear like I was the same person, so I could live again. Even if it wasn’t the life I wanted.

So I’d just recovered from my minor panic attack and I was just about to face the biggest fear of my life… And I was not happy about it. I was a jittery mess as I walked into the room I felt the eyes of these monsters resting on me. I felt like I could almost hear their thoughts about my appearance, I knew what would be going through their twisted warped heads. I really didn't want to do this; my hands were visibly shaking, my fingers trembling as the butterflies fluttering around my stomach started to swarm. Why did I agree to this? Maybe there was a way I could get out of it? So in an attempt to escape the hell I was currently facing, I turned around and came face to face with my therapist. Her ice cold stare evaluated my expression, her light hair scarped into a bun,

“Frank, you're not leaving.” Dr. Klien spoke, reading my fucking mind, the bitch. “Turn around. You won't ever heal if you can't get through this.” Bullshit. How is talking to a bunch of sex addicts about getting raped going to help me? It'll only 'help' them. The monsters, did they deserve help after the crap they’d caused people like me? That was debatable. I didn't want to help them. But unfortunately as I looked at the face of the woman who was 'treating me' I knew I had no choice.

Turning back around, I made my way to the front of the typical classroom style room and stood nervously in front of the men and women who were addicted to sex. Just like him, the one who ruined everything... All of their eyes were watching me as I nervously shoved my hands into my sweatshirt pockets. I looked back up at Klien and she nodded encouragingly and I sighed, looking down at the gray floor tiles, I scanned them meticulously, there was no way I was going to look any of these sick fucks in the eyes. I was sure most of them were going to get off about this, why did they care that my life was destroyed? They probably just thought it was sexy that one of them got the balls to carry out their fantasies. Did they all have the same sick demands?

“Well, um, I'm Frank and I'm twenty one years old. Uh, up until a few weeks ago, I was a college kid who just liked to spend his time with his boyfriend, play guitar, and read. I was working at the local grocery store, too, because me and, um, my mom aren't very well off so I have to, like, help pay for stuff, y'know? So, um, I’m just like a cashier.” I rambled, not really sure what else I was supposed to say about myself, I didn’t want to give any details, I mean if therapy didn’t work they could easily come after me. After the incident I became highly aware of the dangers around me... My therapist said that I needed to let them know that I was 'completely undeserving' or some shit. What the hell did that woman know? Maybe I did deserve it; I mean I’m obviously a whore or something. I mean, I did come from what that bastard did. It made my stomach convulse to think about it, but I did end up orgasming... Another reason why Jepha was better off without me… God, I’m a horrible person, technically I cheated on him with a rapist. I would have probably started to feel tears blur my vision if I was a normal, sweet person, but nothing happened. I was numb, numb to everything. It should have faded by now... I guess that’s why she wanted me to talk about it, maybe she thought re-living it would bring out some emotions in me. Wrong again.

“So, um, I few weeks ago, while I was walking to school, I was...I was...” I swallowed and clenched my hands into a fist inside my pockets. “I was raped.” I paused, still not willing myself to look up at the monsters. “By a sex addict.” I heard a few of the animals in the room gasp, mostly the women I assumed.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I willed for this to be over. I wanted to be home...with Jepha. I still missed him, I guess I always would. It hurts because I’d never see that sweet man again, well I’d see him but I’d never feel his arms around me again, or his lips on mine, or his hands in mine... Seeing him would just be platonic, and I’d never feel his presence in the way I wished I could. Not that he deserved a guy like me anymore. Jepha deserved the world. He deserved a perfect, untainted man.

I guess I took too long to continue my 'speech' because the bitch, formally known as Klien, cleared her throat, forcing me to continue. So, I took a deep breath and continued, baring my soul and my deepest secret to these sick people.

“Well, uh, he followed me, grabbed me, and uh, forced me into his house and down into his basement. I, uh, I tried to fight, but I'm a, uh, small guy.” I laughed humourlessly, Jepha always said he loved that I was small. Fucking downfall of my life.

“So uh, after it was done, he told me that I couldn't tell anyone or he would...” I paused. I shouldn't be saying this. This was dangerous for Jepha, this whole thing was dangerous for Jepha. He's going to hurt him, and it would be all my fault. “He would, um, hurt my boyfriend. And, like, my boyfrie....I mean ex-boyfriend, is a really good guy, a really good guy… and he doesn't deserve that so I kept it to myself for a while.”

I sighed, looking up but avoiding all of these monsters, I can't do this anymore, I need to get out of here. My eyes stayed window level so I didn’t make eye contact with any of them, but I knew that there was one of them. One with bright red hair that never took his eyes off me. I trapped my bottom lip between my teeth hard. I really couldn’t do this. I had a sneaking feeling that he was the very same one that was sizing me up as I walked in… Oh fuck, I knew this was a bad fucking idea… I swallowed and looked at the door, but Klien was already moving toward the door, blocking my only escape, harshly. I sighed once more and continued. My eyes fell back down to the floor as I pretended that I wasn’t here, I was in my bedroom at my mom’s talking to a mirror.

“So, I like had to stop working and going to school because I was afraid he'd find me again, he was never caught so, well he could be anywhere… Just watching. And um, I stopped seeing my boyfriend because of this reason. 'Cause, y'know, I didn't want him to get hurt. Like, he doesn't deserve to go through what I did, never in a million years. But, um, yeah, anyway, my mom knew something was up and she told me to go to a therapist because I never moved from the house, but, um, we don't really have a lot of money, y'know? So I have to live here and work while I’m going through therapy, you guys probably know more than my entire family about what shit went down. My mom found out eventually though...” This was as far as I wanted to go. I told them the bare bones. I wanted to leave… So badly…

I swallowed again and finally looking around the room of eyes staring at me. I could feel each and every one of their eyes undressing me; I could see it as I made eye contact with those nearest me. These monsters didn't care what happens in their wake; they only wanted to get off. But I knew that I had to say this rehearsed line because my therapist said that I need to make sure that these people 'don't feel like monsters'. Which they totally fucking are. So I took a deep breath and told the biggest lie of my life.

“But, um, I'm not doing this for attention or for my own benefit or whatever, I actually want you guys to see what you could degrade someone to, so you can stop yourselves before it happens. I'm sure there are beautiful people inside that are just waiting for the chance to reveal themselves.” I looked up at my therapist and she stepped away from the doorway, looking pleased, grinning.

“Okay, well, um, that's all.” I squeaked before giving a small nod to the demons in front of me and finally made my way out of the room that was going swallow me soon if I didn't leave. I shot out of there as fast as possible. My nerves didn’t stop tingling and I was just glad I got it over with; I’d never have to do it again. I’d never have to face one of those demons again…