Copyright 2011 by Dextrousleftie. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work, unauthorized duplication or use of the characters is prohibited. Please contact me at my e-mail address if you have any questions. Also, enjoy the story. :)
Jonas gave a lot of thought to what he was going to say to Julian in their next session, but he still felt horribly nervous when his patient walked through the door on Thursday afternoon. But Julian appeared to be rather cheerful for him, and plopped down in his chair with a wicked grin for the surprised therapist. "Hey, Doc, how's things?" he asked.
Jonas was completely taken aback. But as he studied Julian's handsome face, he realized that the other man was going to pretend very hard that what had happened on Tuesday hadn't actually happened at all. Maybe he thought that if he ignored it, it would go away. Unfortunately, Jonas couldn't let that happen. He needed to know what had been behind that reaction, or he couldn't help Julian heal. He decided to take a sledgehammer approach for once, although usually he'd have handled Julian with kid gloves after such an incident.
"Things are not great, Julian, since I'm worried about you," he said bluntly, his fingers tightening on his pen until it nearly snapped.
Julian lifted a haughty brow. "Me? Why?" he asked.
"Because my patients don't normally scream and go through fits, then act like I'm attacking them when I try to touch them," Jonas replied grimly. "So that was somewhat worrisome, I'm afraid."
Julian's face contracted. He tensed in his chair, his lips pulling back from his teeth a bit as his hands closed hard over the arms until the fingers turned white. "I don't know what you're talking about," he spat between his clenched teeth.
"Yes, you do," Jonas replied. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm not going to sweep this under the rug, Julian, no matter how much you want me to. I can't. You're in pain and hurting because of something that happened to you. Whatever it is, it's festering away inside of you and making you sick. Not physically sick, but psychologically sick. I just want to help you, but I can't do that if you won't let me."
Julian stared at him. "Why do you care?" he snarled. "Why? I'm just another of your patients. You get paid to care; you don't get paid enough to put in the extra effort. So just leave it alone, Doc. Leave ME alone!" he nearly shouted this last, the cords in his neck tensing and standing out.
"No," Jonas replied calmly but implacably. "I won't. And as for why I care, it has nothing to do with your mother's money and everything to do with the fact that I see another human being in pain. I want to help, I NEED to help. As you have your demons, so do I. Maybe this is my form of drug, but it's a high I've never been able to come down from. It's just my nature, as Chris liked to tell me. So I'll keep pushing and pushing at you from now on until you tell me what happened to you, or you kill me out of sheer self-defense. To avoid a life sentence in prison, maybe it would be best if you left and didn't come back. Or you can tell me what I want to know, and save us all a lot of trouble."
Julian's mouth had dropped open, and he was staring at Jonas. The stubborn set of the therapist's chin must have told him a lot, as did the direct gaze. Jonas was serious about what he said; he had the option to get up and leave the office right now, and never return. Otherwise, he'd be hounded by Jonas until he cracked one way or the other. "You're crazy," he said flatly.
"Crazier than my patients," Jonas agreed with a cracked smile. "But you're still avoiding the issue. It's put up or shut up time, Julian. Either talk to me or get the hell out. Because I'm not interested in helping someone who doesn't want my help. That's like trying to clean up an addict who doesn't want to give up drugs. It's futile and heartbreaking for anyone stupid enough to try it."
"Wow," Julian said softly. "I've never seen this side of you before, Doc. I kinda like it."
Jonas blew air out through his nose in exasperation as Julian gave him a look that was a combination of admiring and leering. "Julian – for the last time..." he began.
"Yeah, yeah," Julian waved a hand at him. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Doc. Fine – you want to know what happened to me? I'll tell you. My boyfriend? The asshole? He..." Julian trailed off, clearly struggling with himself.
Jonas waited patiently. This was a pivotal point in their sessions. If Julian couldn't tell him now, he might never be able to tell Jonas what had happened to him. The younger man looked down, his mouth working. "He was always kind of controlling," he said in a strained voice. "But I sort of liked that, because at least he was paying attention to me. Unlike my parents. I thought it meant that he loved me." He laughed in a cracked sort of way, making Jonas's guts twist. "What an idiot I was. I trusted him. That is, until the day I came home and found him screwing somebody else in our bed. When I got angry and screamed at him, he hit me. Split my lip and bruised my cheekbone. I told him to get the hell out and never come back. He didn't like that, not at all. But when I threatened to call the cops to make him leave, he left. For awhile, anyway."
His whole body was so tense that Jonas expected him to break. The therapist remained silent, however; he knew that Julian needed to say whatever he had to say without any interruptions. "I was angry and hurt, and not just the bruise on my face. I packed up his stuff and threw it out into the hall. That made me feel a little better, anyway. I was going to call his cell the next day and tell him to come and get his shit. I never intended to see him again. I thought that I'd just cry a bit and get over him," Julian began tonelessly.
"But he still had a key to the door. It was late at night, like two a.m., when I woke up because somebody had come into the room. When I sat up, I saw that it was him and a couple of his loser friends. I'd never liked his friends, but I just thought that they were part and parcel of going out with him. I yelled at them, asking him why they'd come into the apartment and two in the morning. I had class at eight o'clock, didn't they know that?"
Julian stopped again, his mouth twisted. His eyes were haunted and full of old darkness. His fingers clenched and unclenched on the arms of the chair. "He...he...laughed at me. His voice was slurred, and I realized that he was high as a kite. His friends had scored him some meth. That's why I didn't like them, because they were nasty little druggies. I started to feel scared then, and I told him to get out or I'd call the cops. He said...that I'd used that threat once before already, and that it wasn't gonna work this time. That I couldn't call anybody if they didn't let me."
"I lunged for the phone, but he knocked it away. I was so scared that I wanted to piss myself. He looked crazy; his eyes were glittering from the drugs in the light from the lamp. I struggled, but he grabbed me by the hair and yanked me across the bed. I was screaming for help, but the walls of my apartment were fairly thick. And then he slapped a hand over my mouth and almost suffocated me. He told me that I was going to get what was coming to me for being such a bitch and for talking back to him and threatening him earlier. He slapped me upside the head so hard that I saw stars, and I was too dizzy to fight him anymore."
Julian's chest was heaving, and his breathing was harsh. Jonas wanted desperately to get up and go over to comfort the younger man, but he knew that was impossible. After Julian's reaction to a mere touch, he knew better than to try to hug his patient at this juncture. It would be a disaster. So he sat and waited as Julian continued in a voice that had gone flat and dull: "I kind of blacked out for awhile, and when I woke up, I felt pain. There was somebody on top of me, inside of me...I could hear him grunting as he fucked me. I finally realized that it was HIM. That he was fucking me without any lube or a condom, even though he'd slept around on me. I tried to push upward, to get him off of me, but he was too strong and my head was ringing. He said into my ear that this was what happened to mouthy whores. Then he pressed my face into the pillow and almost suffocated me again, and I had to fight then just so I could breathe. Finally he was done, and he pulled out. I thought that was it, until he laughed and said to someone that they should have a go at the bitch. That I was nice and tight, even if I was mouthy. I tried to fight then, so hard – I was trying to scream, but my mouth didn't seem to work right...and then one of his friends got on the bed and fucked me too. It hurt even more, because I was already torn and he was big. He was laughing too, telling my boyfriend how good it felt and that he should have shared this piece of ass with them sooner."
"Finally he was done, and I thought that that was it. But then the other one joined in the fun, and when he was done my boyfriend was ready for round two, and I don't remember how many times they..." he put a hand over his eyes and sat there trembling, a harsh keening noise falling from his lips.
"Did you ever report your rape to anyone, Julian?" Jonas asked gently after awhile.
"No. No, I didn't tell anyone. Mother wouldn't have cared except that it would have made her look bad, to have her fag son drag her through a rape trial. And I was in such bad shape afterward that I could barely walk for two days afterward. I could have called the police, and turned him in; but to go through the horror of a trial, in which I'd have to sit there and tell a jury who disapproved of my sexuality anyway how I was gangbanged by my boyfriend and his drug abusing asshole friends...men don't get raped, do they? Unless they're sissy boy fags, that is. And that's what we have coming to us, anyway, right? For taking it up the ass?" his voice was bitter.
Jonas sighed. Unfortunately, Julian had a point. American culture really wasn't geared toward the mentality that men could be raped too, which is why so few of them actually reported being raped even if they were homosexuals. Because many conservatives and Christians probably DID think that this was exactly what each and every `fag' had coming to them. He could understand why Julian hadn't reported his rape, even though living with it in silence was killing him inside.
"What happened to your boyfriend?" he asked quietly after a moment.
Julian lowered his hand, and the stark pain in his eyes made Jonas want to weep for him. "Nothing," he said hoarsely. "At all. Not even guilt, if the bastard could have felt something like that – because he didn't remember it the next day. He called me up the morning after and tried to weasel me into taking him back. He sounded like a guy who'd been caught cheating on his boyfriend, not one who'd brought his friends over in the middle of the night to gang rape him. When I asked him if he remembered last night, I got a blank silence. Then he asked me what I was talking about. I then proceeded to tell him what he and his skeevy friends had done to me, and I also told him that if he ever came near me again that I'd kill him. My mother was rich; I could get away with murder. He yelled that I was lying, that he didn't believe me, then he hung up and I never heard from him again. He transferred schools, and that was that. He's probably dating some other poor slob who thinks that he's handsome and cool and the best thing that's ever happened to him."
Jonas spoke in as firm but gentle a voice as he could: "You may not think this now, Julian, but your confession is a breakthrough for you. The way to get an infected wound to heal is to lance it and let out all the pus. Otherwise it festers and kills you eventually. I know how hard it was for you to tell me all of this, but I'm glad that you did. Now, if you really want to, we can work together to start the healing process. What do you want, Julian?"
The younger man stared at him, his expression raw and more open than Jonas had ever seen it before. "I want..." he began hoarsely. "I want to be myself again. I can't stand this, the way I am. It's like there's an evil spirit riding me, making me act this way and do all of this stupid shit. And I can't stop myself. I don't want to stop myself, because when I'm doing it at least I don't have to think about what happened anymore. Please, Jonas...Please help me. Because I don't think that I'll last much longer this way."
"Of course I'll help you, Julian," the therapist vowed. "If there's any way, I'll help you. Because your life shouldn't have to end on that night."
"You know something? I actually do feel a little better," Julian admitted at the beginning of their next therapy session. "For telling you all that, I mean. I guess I never realized what not talking about it was actually doing to me. You were right, Jonas. It was like a festering wound. I've been sleeping better for the last few days," he confessed.
"That's wonderful," Jonas replied sincerely. "I'm very glad to hear that. You've taken your first big step toward healing, Julian. The road might be long and rocky, but you took the biggest step onto it already."
Julian laughed a little and shook his head. "You know, half of what you say sounds like a cliché," he remarked. "And yet somehow it's also very profound. How the hell do you do that?"
Jonas smiled a crooked smile and shrugged. "Chris used to tease me about that too," he said. "He always told me that I could open a Hallmark greeting card store if I decided to stop being a therapist. I guess the real truth is that the things I say might be clichés or sound very sappy, but the fact that I believe in what I say is what helps to make them profound as well. Or as profound as they can be, anyway," he added with a twinkle in his eyes.
Julian cocked his head. "You really do believe all of it, don't you? Whereas I have a hard time believing in much of anything at all. We're very different, you and me."
"I've always thought that people's differences are what make them special," Jonas mused. "And fascinating, as well. It's interesting to see how each individual person will react to the same situation. Have I mentioned that I like to people watch? It's a hobby of mine."
"So people are just like animals in a zoo to you?" Julian teased.
He chuckled. "I suppose so. We are all just animals anyway, just of a slightly higher order."
Julian's brow lifted. "Are Jews supposed to believe in evolution?" he asked.
"This one does. God, after all, works in mysterious ways. Evolution can be a part of his Creation. Religion and reason don't have to be mutually exclusive, no matter what many people seem to think. God is in science, if you look for Him."
"I think maybe I should start studying YOU," Julian said in fascination. "Because I've never met anybody quite like you before, Jonas."
He moved a little in his chair, uncomfortably. "Yes, I'm aware that I'm a bit of a freak," he conceded.
"I don't think that's a bad thing," Julian told him with a smile.
Jonas felt even more uncomfortable now, because he could feel something happening here. Something that shouldn't be happening, not at all. He was Julian Archer's therapist. While they might develop a close bond as therapist and patient, it shouldn't be more than that. But...dear God, he was starting to feel an attraction to Julian. Now that the sullen, closed-off man had all but disappeared, leaving behind a vulnerable young man who needed his help, the attraction was growing much stronger. He couldn't derail Julian's therapy for his own personal wishes, he just couldn't. Julian needed to get over the rapes he'd suffered through, and Jonas couldn't complicate things. If he did, he'd be forced to send Julian to someone else. It would be unethical for him to continue as Julian's therapist if he got involved with the younger man. He simply had to control himself, and never show Julian even a hint of that attraction.
All he said aloud was: "If you think you can handle it, we should talk some more about that night, Julian. But only if you feel up to it. Don't push yourself."
Julian shivered a little, but his jaw firmed up as well. "I'll talk about it," he declared vehemently. "I want to do this. I want to get better."
Jonas had to admire him for his courage. "All right," he said gently. "First of all, do you blame yourself for anything that happened that night? Do you feel that at least some of it was your fault?"
Julian flinched visibly. "Yes," he said hoarsely.
"Why?"
Julian hugged himself tightly. "B-Because...I dated that asshole. I s-shouldn`t have..."
"No," Jonas said firmly. "None of what happened was your fault, Julian. When you've been a victim of violence, especially domestic violence, your first instinct is to blame yourself. But would you blame a child for being sexually molested or beaten by its parent?"
"No," Julian said, "Of course not."
"Then why do you believe that you're to blame for what Darryn did to you? Especially when you'd already thrown him out with the intention of never seeing him again. It is the abuser, the rapist, the molester who is always to blame totally for their actions; it is never the victim's. You are not at fault, Julian," he said intensely, meeting the younger man's eyes without wavering. "You must believe that. Darryn is responsible for what happened to you, completely and totally. You were not at fault in any way."
Julian looked away abruptly, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "You're right," he husked, reaching up to wipe at the moisture, "I can see that. It's just..."
"You want a way to explain what happened," Jonas said gently. "Why he did what he did. And it's easier for you to say that it must have been something that you did or said to set him off, but it's also wrong. He made the choice to hurt and rape you, and even saying that he was on drugs so he didn't know any better is not an excuse. The drugs would not have changed his behavior entirely, and he made the choice to take the drugs in the first place so what happened is still down to his decision to do that."
"Yes," Julian rubbed at the side of his face with his hand. "I can see that. It's just that there was this little voice inside of my head that kept pointing out that if I hadn't dumped him that never would have happened."
"Maybe, maybe not," Jonas replied quietly. "You yourself told me that Darryn was already verbally abusive to you. If you'd stayed with him he might have escalated his behaviors over time anyway. People who are abusers tend to do that – once they see that they can get away with a little, they gradually work up to more and more. As they say, give an inch and they take a mile."
Julian sighed. "I got into a relationship with Darryn because he charmed me completely," he said. "You were right – I was starved for affection and attention because of how distant my parents were. I thought that he loved me, and I didn't really know the difference one way or another. When he started to get abusive, I just thought that I'd done something to set him off. That I'd done something wrong. He used to tell me that it was my fault, and I believed him."
"Abusers will often do that to their victims, to keep them feeling helpless and off-balance," Jonas agreed. "If you think that it's your fault, you won't seek help or try to get away from the abuser. Psychological games are an abuser's stock-in-trade. It's all about maintaining control with them. Darryn was most likely furious that you'd taken his control of you away, that you'd displayed your backbone to him. That's why he `punished' you. But you aren't anyone's slave, Julian. You're strong; you've proved that to me over the last few weeks. You're strong enough to overcome what happened to you, and prove just how weak Darryn actually was in the process."
"You have a lot of faith in me," Julian said. "I'm not sure that it isn't misplaced, though."
Jonas met his eyes again, his own stare steady. "It isn't misplaced," he replied quietly but firmly. "I know you can do this, Julian."
A trembling laugh. `Well, I'm just glad that one of us thinks that," Julian said with a weak smile.
"Hopefully, by the time we're done, we'll BOTH think that," the therapist replied firmly.
After Julian has gone, Jonas went and sat at his desk. He picked up the picture of Chris, turning it over to look at the face of his lover. "Hey, Chris," he said softly. "I still miss you, guy. Every day, in every way. I keep expecting to turn around one day and see you standing there, grinning at me like you used to do. Telling me that it would be all right, that we should go to the spa over the weekend and relax so I'd be ready for Monday. I'd go by myself, but it just wouldn't be the same," he sighed, his fingers stroking the glass over the photo. "I'd love to talk to you about Julian, baby. He's just the kind of person that you'd urge me to help in any way that I could. Although maybe you wouldn't be so gung-ho about it if you'd figured out that I'm...oh hell, I'm kind of attracted to him. Okay, maybe more than kind of', actually. He's not like you at all, Chris...although maybe that's why. If he'd reminded me of you I wouldn't have been able to handle that. But he doesn't. He's just...himself. I don't know what to do, here," he sighed. "I can't get involved with a client, and it's too soon after you got killed anyway. Isnt it? What should I do, baby? I'm pretty confused right now," he ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "I guess I'll just keep doing the best I can, and try hard not to let him see anything. Best I can do for now, because he really needs my help. I'm not going to shuck him off on another therapist, not when he's at this vulnerable point."
He lifted the photo to his lips, kissing that beloved face. "Thanks for listening, lover," he told the man smiling out of the photo. "I really appreciate it." He set it back down on the desk, feeling a bit better even for just talking to a picture of Chris.
If you are enjoying this story, please check out my website: www.dlsyaoi-polloi.com.