FicWad

Sitting in my room, early the next morning, I thought of the events of last night. I had just finished my duties for the night and I was heading back to my room, where I saw the guy from the group therapy and lunch. He was walking back toward his room, I guess, and he was crying. Full out, tears cascading down his face as he passed me. He made it seem like he didn't want me to see him cry, like he was...ashamed that I was there. He tried shielding his face with his hand, but it didn’t work. I’d already seen his distress… That's possible, right…? That he didn’t expect me to be there…? I mean, it's not like I stay in the same hallway at the same time every night. I don’t have a routine here do I? Well...I do clean that hallway last every night... but surely that didn’t mean that bumping into wasn’t a coincidence right?

Seeing the red-haired man cry was...unsettling. I didn't know what to make of it. I didn't know that monsters had feelings. Did something happen to him? Was his family okay? Does he have a family? Did it have anything to day with his therapy? He told me he hated Dr. Klien. So maybe it had something to do with that? I don't know. All I know is that I hope he's okay…

Wait a minute, what the fuck am I thinking? Am I crazy? Maybe this is what he wanted me to think, maybe he wanted me to be vulnerable and feel bad for him just so he could gain access to my room and attack me. Had he already try to get into my room already? Did he know that I barred the door with a chair at night…? Is this all some elaborate plan just to get what he wanted? It must have been that because people like my attacker don’t [i]feeli] anything. I was sure of that. He's a monster. A fucking monster. He will destroy me. He probably gets off on the feeling of trying to manipulate me and control me… My stomach rebelled and I felt a little queasy about what had just ran through my mind.

The only thing this freak is upset about is not getting in my pants sooner, about me being savvy to the tricks of his trade. Maybe that’s why he wanted me, not because of my hair, but because I was a challenge. Monster's didn't cry. Monster's didn't feel; they only destroyed. He wanted me to ask him what’s wrong, he wanted me feel sorry for him. He was zoning in on his target, he was almost ready to strike. I needed to get away from him. I didn't want to be here in the first place. I can't be here with him any longer. He's going to get me, break what’s left of me for his own satisfaction...

I could feel my breathing increase as I started to get more and more scared. Was I even safe in my room in the day? Would he come and get me in here regardless of the dangers? Where was I safe if not in my room? Should I go home? Should I forfeit my therapy and just go home? I was never going to get better anyway. This was a waste of time, a waste of my fucking time.

Deciding that I needed to stop thinking about it, I got off of my bed and walked to the desk which contained the phone. I needed to call my mother. Hearing her voice always made me want to get better. I knew I'd disappointed her when I let my attacker have his way with me, she thought I was stronger than that. She thought I was careful enough to avoid incidents like that... I knew I needed to get better for her, and I was trying my hardest, but as per usual, life threw another flaming red curve ball in my direction.

Dialing the familiar numbers which would connect me with my beautiful mother, I waited, sitting down on the cold, hard wooden chair as the phone rang in my ear. I thought of my mother. I hope she was doing okay on her own, pottering around that empty house by herself. I hoped that she had enough money for things she needed; the necessities. I hoped that she wasn't lonely or in trouble, ever since it happened we’d grown closer. She was the only person I communicated face to face with before I came here. Sighing to myself, as the phone rang a fourth time, I moved to place the phone back on the base, just as I heard the soft, warm voice of my mother.

[/ “Hello?”Her greeting echoed in my ear and I sighed in relief. At least she’d answered!

“Ma?” I questioned, although I knew it was her. It was easier for her to start the conversation; sometimes I drew a blank when talking to her. It was like I wanted conversation but I just didn’t know the right things to say. I’d been really awkward after shit got nasty, I didn’t feel comfortable openly communicating with people; even my own mother.

“Frankie? Hi, honey. What are you doing calling me? Is everything okay?” She asked, panic filling her voice. She had a reason to suspect that, I guess. The only times I called her was when I was just about ready to head home; when I needed some more reassurance.

“Yeah, mom, everything is fine. I just wanted to see how you were doing?” I spoke hesitantly, staring at the blank wall in front of me, I was lying. I really did need some reassurance... I distracted myself quickly; these walls could really use some color. Maybe red. Or green.

“Oh, sweetie.” She exhaled loudly, “I'm doing well. I miss you though, honey. How's everything going?” She asked obviously relieved that all I wanted to do was talk. The last few times I've called her, I was sobbing, begging for her to come get me. Two of those times were after I saw the red-headed man.

“It's...okay? I guess. I don’t know. I just want to get out of here soon.” I responded, letting my head slide into my hand. I didn't really know how to answer these questions. I wanted to talk about her, not about me.

“Is it helping, though, Frankie? Are you working with your doctor?”

“I try to. It's hard sometimes, really fucking hard, but I try.” I answered honestly. My mom deserved the truth. I had already put her through so much stress with my weakness; she didn’t need it really did she?

“That's all we can ask for, honey.” My mother answered. She was always so understanding and supportive; I couldn't believe I let her down like this, wanting to forfeit therapy.

“Yeah. So, uh, how are you, Ma? Everything okay?” I asked, trying to subtly ask about money and bills and such.

“Yeah, everything is great, Frankie. Don't you worry about me; just worry about getting better, alright, sweetheart?” She responded, in the caring nurturing tone that I loved. Although I could tell she had just as subtly deviated away from the subject of money; signaling that things were getting tougher.

“Yeah, Ma, I will. Just...make sure you take care of yourself, okay?” I asked and I heard my mom laugh softly, furrowing my eyebrows I waited for her response.

“Oh, Frankie, you're always so worried about everyone else. Worry about yourself, honey. I’m doing fine.” She paused for a while and I could almost hear a debate going on in her head. “So Frankie, guess who stopped by today?”

“Who, ma?” I asked, leaning back against the back of the chair, dragging the base of the phone along the desk, trying my hardest to pretend like I wasn’t in a rehab room. I was in Jepha’s apartment, my feet on the coffee table; just to annoy him. I was reclining in the sofa his mom had bought us; I could even feel the breeze roll in from the open windows he insisted on having in the mornings. I was in the living room, ringing my mother to ask about her day... I know it was pathetic, but imagining myself somewhere different, somewhere comfortable and close to my heart helped me relax. It was almost freaky because her answer shocked me a little.

“Jepha.” She answered swiftly and I hitched a breath in my throat. Oh no, what did he want? “He asked how you were and what you were doing. He also asked how I was doing. That boy is so sweet.”

“Yeah and what did you tell him? You didn't tell him what happened, right?” I asked hurriedly. Please, please don't let her have told Jepha. It wasn't safe for him to know. He could get hurt. Badly. That was the last thing I wanted, breaking up with him then would have been pointless; hurting him in the first place would have been pointless and I couldn’t handle that too.

“No I didn't. Don't worry, honey. I just told him that you were working at the rehab center full time now and they offered you a room.”

“Oh, good. And he believed you?” My mom made a noise that resembled an 'uh-huh'. “Good.” I answered, biting the inside of my lip.

We were both silent for a minute as I thought about Jepha and about how much I truly missed him, how I missed his scent and being close to him. Memories of the years we spent together flash like bright lights in my minds eyes and my heart began to burn slightly. He was the best person I had ever known. I wish I could still see him.

“Ma, I really miss him.” I spoke softly; I could feel the tears rising to my eyes. God, why was I like this? Why was I so pathetic, I made myself sick sometimes.

”I know you do, honey. But once you've recovered, you can see him again. It'll all be okay, Frankie. I promise.”

“Yeah” I muttered not really believing her. I could never see Jepha again. Regardless of how much progress I made. My attacker would still be after him. He could still hurt Jepha and I couldn't risk that. Jepha didn't deserve that. I’m tainted goods. Jepha deserved nothing but the best. And I am certainly not the best, not any more. Back in my glory days, there was no one better suited. That fact stung, like a wasp sting straight to the heart.

“Alright, Frankie, I’ll let you go. I love you, sweetheart.” She said, and I could hear the sorrow in her voice, I think she regretted bringing the topic up.

“Okay, Ma. I love you, too. Bye.” And with that, I hung up, sitting back in my chair. I really needed to get out of here so I could be with her again. I couldn’t stick being in this place; left alone with nothing but my mind. An object these days that seemed to grow and develop to my worst enemy.

Sighing to myself, I looked up at the digital clock on the side of my bed. Noticing that it was time for therapy, I stood up from my chair slowly. My motivation always lacked these days, walking to my dresser I changed into my clothes for the day. After I was all dressed, I headed out of my room, pacing down the familiar hall to the professional wing. Once reaching the wing of the hospital that the entire doctoring staff had their offices, I found mine and made my way into the office. Its stark bright lights and clinical plastic seats were an eyesore in the morning and I sighed. I plonked my body down in the chair that was just next to the door when the receptionist told me that, again, my therapist was still with her patient. Like I didn't know that already.

I only had to wait a few minutes until I saw the same woman step through the door followed by Dr. Klien. I stood once the blubbering middle-aged mess of a woman left the lobby and followed Dr. Klien into her office. She sat in her usual chair and I sat in mine as she smiled at me, picking up her notepad, and crossing her legs. It was like some fucked up routine that I’d been replaying for too long. I woke up and repeated this time and time again, and it made no difference.

“So, Frank how are we today?” She asked looking at me like she already knew how I was going to answer. Her smile was obviously fake; it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I'm okay.” I answered and she nodded almost before the words left my mouth. Did I really say that every time? “I, uh, talked to my mom today.” I nearly whispered. I needed to give more if I was ever going to get out of here, that was my realization for the day, the sooner I appeared to be ‘all better’ the sooner I could go home and go back to my usual way of life. Knowing a therapist classed me as cured would mean my mom would get off my case about going out and eventually she’d accept my hermit-like qualities.

“Really?” She looked up at me, shocked, I guess. She probably didn’t expect me to say much more.

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure she was doing okay. 'Cause like, before I helped pay bills and stuff and now I can't.” I whispered, looking down at my hands, examining them intently. I hated looking in her eyes; she tried to see through me. She tried to read me, and it unnerved me.

“And how is she doing?” She asked, writing on her pad. I wanted to laugh, as if she cared about how my mother was doing.

“She seems good. Happy. I think. She said she saw Jepha.” I rambled; I wasn't really sure what I was and wasn't supposed to tell her. I was pretty much taking a shot in the dark here.

“She did? What did they talk about?” She asked, writing quickly on her pad, watching me in the process. Her pen danced across the page in short bursts; I couldn’t help but wonder what was so interesting about what we were talking about.

“Me. She lied for me, telling him I was just working here. I don't want him to know.” I mumbled, playing with the cuffs of my sweatshirt. “He can never know.” I reiterated.

“And why can't he know, Frank?” She pushed, her hands stopping on the pad. I felt her whole attention focus on me and I began to get nervous, the feeling scratched like a bed of needles in my stomach. Had I said something wrong?

“I don’t want him knowing I was unfaithful to him.” I spoke quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. I wished I'd never brought this up. I should have just stuck with 'okay'. It made me feel so nauseous to say it out loud, I mean we talked about it all the time but we never talked about Jepha. I wish we hadn’t. She sighed, I saw her shake her head in my peripheral vision.

“Frank, you weren’t unfaithful because it wasn’t consensual” She pushed again, sitting forward in her chair, it squeaked loudly almost punctuating her point.

I shook my head adamantly and groaned, “I wasn't raped. I don't have a rapist, I have an attacker, and the fact remains that I cheated on the best thing that ever happened to me. Is it too much to ask that he never finds that out? I’m lying here to protect him.” I looked up at her. She needed to understand this. I wasn't raped. I wanted it. I was not raped, and I needed this to stay unknown to my ex. He couldn’t take being cheated on, the woman he’d been with before me had done it to him and he near enough broke down completely.

“Why do you think that you were raped, Frank?” She asked, uncrossing, and then crossing her legs again, shifting here position. She asked this question all the time, and I told he the exact same answer every time. Like I said, this shit was just a cycle that repeated, an unhelpful painful repeating cycle.

“Because I liked it! I got off on it. I wanted it.” She shook her head and I could see her struggling to keep her calm. I think she was getting annoyed with me, but honestly, I was the one telling the truth here. Then her expression relaxed, like she’d just thought of something ingenious…

“Frank, were you attracted to him?” she asked, curiosity lacing her tone. I shook my head tears starting to form in my eyes. Of course I wasn't attracted to him. He was disgusting. He ripped my world apart, that and the fact I barely remember anything apart from his crooked dirty mouthed smile and guttural threats. “Did you ever say to him 'I want this'?” I shook my head once more, the tears starting to fall from my eyes, could she not see that I was clearly distressed; I did not want to talk about this... “Then you were raped, Frank.” She spoke softly, her eyes watching me as I shook my head.

“No! I got off from what he did. How the hell is that rape?” I asked, my voice starting to get louder. Did she not understand this? It had been days since I started therapy and every session I told her that I wanted it. That I came from it. How could she not get it?

She sat forward, her voice quiet and sincere, “Frank, listen to me. From the details of your case, this man was not in this for the satisfaction of himself alone. He was obsessing over you and he thought that you had the same feelings. Now I know that's hard to understand because it was evident that you didn't want it but to him, he thought it was consensual. And Frank, if he wasn't able to get you off, he wouldn't have been satisfied. Regardless of if he released or not. He knew the right spots to hit, Frank. He planned it all; he most likely fantasized about it for a long time. You need to understand that he was in control and you clearly weren’t. You didn’t want it.” My mind was racing. Could this be true, could I have really been raped? The prospect was too daunting. I didn’t want to be a true rape victim; that was even more emasculating than wanting it.

“But...” I started but stopped when I saw my therapist shaking her head.

“No Frank, you were raped. He may have been able to get your body to go along with it, but your mind clearly was not.” I just sat there in shock. My mind couldn't even form words. I couldn't even form thoughts. Was this possible? I closed my eyes, no. No, this couldn’t be right. I didn’t want to deal with this. I was happy getting along the way I’d been doing before. I didn’t care if people thought it was unhealthy I got on fucking fine the way I was right now.

I guess my therapist saw my struggle because she continued, “I know this is a lot to take in. And it's going to take time for you to come to terms with this and that's okay. Just know that this wasn't your fault. That you didn't want this.”

I just shook my head, tears falling from my eyes, I was so fucking confused... “I don't know.” I mumbled and looked down at my ripped jeans, looking at knee that poked through the hole. “I don't know anymore.” I whispered.

“That's okay. That's good. Listen, Frank. Take a break for lunch and come back when you're done. We'll talk through everything, okay? You can tell me everything. We'll work through this.” She smiled slightly. Why the hell is she smiling? This isn’t a happy moment; stupid bitch.

I just nodded and stood up from my seat soundlessly. I couldn't think. Maybe leaving for a little while would do me good. I ambled out of her office then out of the lobby. Could I trust her? Was she telling me the truth? Was I raped? All the questions were piling in my head as I made my way to the cafeteria, my Chuck Taylors slapping against the floor I’d have to mop up later. I didn't even think about the red-headed man as I got my food from the kitchen, his presence escaped my mind, not even knowing what to think any more. I wasn't even concerned that I would have company at my usually lonely table as I sat down. My thoughts were filled with a sudden possible epiphany, instead of the usual doom. It was possible that I was raped, although it was a lot more emasculating to think about it, it would mean a lot of guilt would be shifted from my shoulder blades. I wouldn’t have willingly thrown away the most perfect thing I’d ever touched in my life; I wouldn’t be to blame…

Well that was until the red-headed man made his way to my table and sat down. This was just what fucking needed right now. Company right in the middle of a possible milestone… Fuck my life.

“Hey” I heard as the chair scraped against the floor, tearing my thoughts away from my scrambled mind. I immediately let my head dip further down against my chest, staring at my food, completely wanting to ignore him; although his fire truck red hair made that quite impossible. I needed time to myself today, couldn't I have that? Couldn't I just spend five minutes alone here?

Apparently not because the monster continued, “How are you?” I wasn’t going to answer him. I would never answer him. He needed to leave me the fuck alone. I looked down at my food, staring at the unappetizing, rock solid meal steaming from the tray. Sometimes I wish I could eat lunch. Sometimes I wish that this creeper didn't take away the hunger growling inside my stomach. Maybe I'd try to eat today. Maybe if I eat, he'd leave me alone. Maybe he'd see that I was busy and that I didn’t want to talk, that I’d rather chew this shit than converse with him. Yeah that could work...

Just as I was about to lift my hand to find my fork, the red-headed man started speaking again. “I'm alright. I’m still a little on edge from yesterday.” He spoke, his voice floating in through my ears, instructing my brain to forget about wanting to eat. My hand lay flat against the table, refusing to move. Well there goes my hope of eating properly today.

He paused like he was waiting for me to inquire about yesterday. Of course I wouldn't. I wanted him to go away. Why would I ask him about something? That would only make him stay longer.

“ Well yesterday my therapist overstepped the fucking line. I’m still pissed about it, but you should have seen me yesterday day, I was so raging. I owned her though. I bet no one's ever told [b]her[/b] where to go before!” He laughed and I swear I just wanted to run away, even though his laugh was slightly feminine, it still made me uncomfortable. I wanted to get the hell out of this cafeteria… “You'll never guess what she did!? She totally riffled round my past like it was hers to stick her parrot beak nose into! Do you know how rude that is, so I went all angry on her like the hulk. She looked like she was going to shit bricks. It was priceless.”

As the red-headed man finished his description of the scene from yesterday, I couldn't help the small smile that formed on my face. To see this rather...feminine and not to mention quite flaming from what I’d witnessed man go 'hulk' at our therapist would have been a funny thing to see. I could imagine him throwing a bitch fit in her pokey office and to be honest, it did amuse me… Then I realized that I was in public, and that the monster was in front of me....and I was smiling, like actually smiling... Oh God. He's getting into my head. He'd planning this, just like Dr. Klien said my attacker rapist had. Like he planned the crying incident yesterday... Oh my God. I needed to get the hell out of here before he started fucking with my head.

I swallowed slightly to myself and I took a hold of my plate that was filled with untouched food. I jumped up and walked slowly and carefully to the garbage, throwing out my food. Maybe if I didn't seem afraid he wouldn’t come after me. Maybe if he didn't think I was an easy target he'd leave me the fuck alone.

After my tray was on top of the garbage bin, I made my way out of the cafeteria and down the empty hall to my therapist's office again. I think I needed to work through this. Regardless of it I was raped or not. I needed to get better. I needed to feel better; to rid myself of the self-loathing, the guilt, the memories. In short I needed to get the fuck out of here.

Once I was back at the office, I made my way into the lobby and my therapist was standing there talking to her receptionist animatedly. She seemed excited. She looked over and smiled at me as she made her way back to her office door. However it was a real smile, her eyes sparkled and I even saw a spring in her step… What the fuck was she so happy about?

“I'm really glad you came back, Frank. I wasn't sure that you would.” She stated as she opened the heavy polished wooden door allowing me to go in first. And honestly, I wasn't sure if I was going to come back either, not until the very end of my short lunch break that is. She had me sit down in my designated spot, and she sat at hers. She once again pulled out her notepad, looking at me with her shinning, proud eyes. I’m not sure what the hell she was so proud about. One of the main reasons why I came back to her office was because I knew I was safe. The monster couldn’t hurt me if I was in here, he couldn’t get at me in here.

“Alright, Frank, go through what happened that day from the minute he grabbed you.” I took a deep breath and looked down at my hands. Was I ready to do this? No, but will I ever be ready to do this? Probably not.

As I let out my breath I began to tell my therapist all about how I was dragged through the man's front yard, nearly destroying the rosebush. The roses that I wanted to pick up for Jepha, I made sure to add that in because I found it ironic. I told her about the smell of cats and cigarettes. I told her how I tried to push him away, struggling to get his body weight off of me. I was just about to continue my rant when she stopped me and looked at me, directly in the eyes.

“You fought back, Frank.” I furrowed my eyebrows looking at her. How did I fight back, I’d failed to even push myself away from him. That wasn’t fighting back. Fighting back was punching and kicking with force. “You said you pushed him away. Would you do that to someone you wanted to have sex with?” She questioned and I looked at her dumbfounded.

“No...” I answered shakily, understanding where she was coming from, but I didn’t want to understand. I didn’t want to remember how I’d pushed him with all my might. How I tried to struggled, how I’d tried to yell… How I’d fail to prevent this.

She nodded and wrote something on her pad, “Continue.” She encouraged softly.

And I did trying my hardest to rid myself of the now vivid memories pooling in my brain. I told her how he dragged me down the stairs into his garage, forcing his hands and body all over me. I told her how he pinned me to the ground, making sure I couldn't leave. I told her about how he took off my clothes, ripping my favorite t-shirt, using its scraps as a muzzle, controlling my speech.

She stopped me again and clasped her hands on her knees, I think she was overwhelmed by the fact I was opening up so readily. “Would you consider being pinned to the floor, and gagged consensual, Frank?” I shook my head, incredulously. “Then it wasn't.” I just nodded slightly and looked at my hands yet again, my eyes scanning over the letters that made up the word ‘Halloween.’ I could make sense of what she was saying but, I really couldn't believe her. Well really I didn't want to believe her.

After she told me once more to continue, I did. Telling her all about how he thrust inside of me once he removed my clothes. How he didn't prepare like Jepha did. How he stroked me, making my body deceive me. How, after he finished, he wiped up with the shirt and told me not to tell anyone. How he would hurt Jepha if I did tell.

“And I knew I couldn't tell, but then it all got to be too much. I thought I was seeing him everywhere I went. I was afraid to be out, I was afraid to go to work, I was afraid to be with Jepha, and I knew I had to change it. And I was just so worried about lying to Jepha, the guilt just accumulated; I had to break up with him. I broke his heart because I didn’t give him a proper reason, but I needed to.” I rambled. The true guilt that was hidden inside me; locked away for only my mind to process, was finally coming out. She thought for a second, her head tipping to the right like a befuddled dog.

“I think there’s another reason you broke up with him Frank. And I think deep down, you repressed that reason, not being able to process it. From my evaluation I really think you’ve repressed the whole situation by saying it wasn’t rape, because you can’t deal with the fact you were raped. Why did you really break up with him Frank?” she asked, her words totally bowling me over, her words smacked me with ice cold sense, seeping into my mind and unlocking a whole new world. Unleashing everything about that day I’d repressed. The sadness, the truth, the reality drowned me and I knew, I knew the reason why I didn’t tell him about what happened. I understood why I didn’t give him a reason when we split up…

“Because my rapist threatened him.” I nearly whispered my voice cracking as tears invaded my vision again. I can't believe I had said that. I had been raped... He changed me against my will. He took my life away from me; I didn’t throw it away... He took Jepha away from me, he stole Jepha from me. He wrenched everything from me. I began to breathe quicker, the realization hitting me hard. Why did this have to happen to me? Huh, why me?

As the thought of actually being raped overwhelmed me, I heard Dr. Klien's voice burrow through my poisonous clouded thoughts, “Frank I want you to speak to the sex-addicts again. I think the progress you've made today will really help them. If you can explain to them in detail the feelings you have now you understand your life was taken away by someone like them, guilt therapy may help bring home the realization of how deadly there addiction is. Beforehand I’d have to explain about your rapist to them. Just what is says in the police profile, of course. So they can see that their symptoms are just like his own” She paused and I looked at her like she was speaking Japanese. Because she must have been, right? She couldn’t have wanted me to go talk to those.....monsters again. I would just get more following me. “In a couple of days when you’ve come to terms with today’s break through.” She added quickly. I blinked repeatedly. Was today’s milestone just another aid in her treatment with the clinic? Was that the only reason she agreed to brush my therapy bills away with work because secretly she wanted my healing process to help her boost the statistics of those successfully cured here, to help her gain a better name for herself here? Fucking hell, that red –haired monster was right, therapists really were bitches. Well this one certainly fucking was!

I stood up at glared at her, “No!” I exclaimed, my whole body shaking. “No! I won't. I fucking won't!” I yelled heading towards the door. “Because of you and your fucking sex addicts, I have a fucking stalker! Do really think I want to help creeps like them!” I screamed and before she could stop me, I ran from the office. I ran from the lobby, I ran away from the cafeteria. I just ran. I couldn’t believe my recovery was a fucking tool for her to use. I’m a goddamn human being, not an object for her to use to further her career. She should care enough about me to try and help me heal for myself, not so her class can be cured completely. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her.

As I turned onto the corridor in which my room was situated a violent thought swam round my head; I wish that that fucking red-headed stalker would have actually hit her yesterday, maybe she would have learned about pushing her patients too far.