Page 28 of Scars
“Ignacio mentioned you used to play video games daily. Including having sessions with your friends. However, from what I’ve gathered, ever since Allesandro and Cristian were kidnapped, you haven’t played at all.”
Unsure what he’s getting at, I shrug. “It was time for me to grow up. I was supposed to be a Second. Chosen to providesupport for Lio. I was even given training by Tennant, who is the ultimate Second. Yet, I failed at it. So there was no point in me playing video games. It was just another example of my immaturity.
“Plus, it’s not like Tennant would ever want to hang out while I played video games like Ignacio did. He isn’t interested in my day-to-day stuff, and that’s understandable. He has a lot of lovers to be with. I don’t want to be a hassle.”
“You do realize that by denying yourself the video games, you are denying yourself a major stress relief? What’s worse, I think it has robbed you of your identity too. It sounds like, from everything I hear, you’ve had a lot of confusing, turbulent emotions over the last few months.”
I snort, because that’s true. Fuck knows I don’t know whether I’m coming or going anymore. But… “What do you mean by identity?”
It’s hard not to squirm under Anderson’s scrutiny, but I manage it—barely. He taps his lips a couple times before he asks, “Do you know what a Middle is?”
“A Middle?” I blink, not recognizing what the fuck he’s talking about.
He nods, his lips pursed as he seems to be mentally weighing his words. “Look, I know before the situation with Jax, you had started to explore kink with Ignacio. But, after Jax, it was understandable that you stopped. There is so much to kink, though. That includes Daddy/Boy relationships, like you see with Lio.
“Lio goes into what we call Littlespace. You see his regression, back to an age that includes needing a Daddy who provides a good sense of caretaking. However, Littles aren’t the only Daddy/Boy relationships. Kink itself varies from person-to-person. Relationships change as well. There’s a classificationin these types of relationships where the Boy identifies as a Middle.”
“What the fuck?” I whisper, but Anderson simply continues.
“Middles aren’t as common as those you normally see depicted in the media. So likely when you think of Daddy/Boy, you think more along the lines of Lio, possibly diapers, or, for instance, coloring.” He gestures to the coloring books on the coffee table, and I recoil as if I had been bitten. “But Middles may not be into that. Again, everything is possible with kink, but in a very general sense, you’re looking at more pre-teen-to-teen age regression. Things like video games, action figures, etc.”
“So, what? Because I like video games, I’m a Middle? If so, you’ve got a problem because there’s a whole segment of people out there that enjoy video games.” I scoff, shaking my head at the absurdity.
Anderson makes a non-committal sound before following up with, “But it goes deeper for you, doesn’t it? It's more than how your friends react to games. You actually embrace the so-called childish feeling. Not only that, but look deep inside. Are you happy being in charge of yourself, or is it easier when you have specific boundaries? For instance, I’m assuming under Allesandro’s leadership, things were very closely defined and structured. Him being gone…and you breaking up with Ignacio…that sent you into a tailspin, didn’t it?”
I flinch at the truth of his statement, shaking my head because I don’t want it to be possible. I’m not a Boy. I’d know. Wouldn’t I?
“Even the difficulty with sharing, that’s complicated for you, isn’t it?”
Tears form in the corners of my eyes, and breathing becomes tougher. I blink, trying to rid myself of the moisture, but it doesn’t help, and the tears begin to fall. They're torturously slow at first, like they’re being ripped from my soul, until they speedup, like a crashing wave against a stubborn rock that doesn’t want to yield.
Choking, I scramble to say, “It’s not… I don’t… I love him. I understand that he needs others. Hell, I was so outraged on Roman’s behalf. I can’t believe I claimed him, but I dropped the ball because… Fuck. I don’t know. I’m… I’m…”
“Go ahead,” Anderson murmurs as he hands me a box of tissues. “Let it out. Nothing you say here is wrong. Feelings may seem scary, but this is a place where we don’t judge them.”
Snorting, my choppy breathing begins to calm. Non-judgmental? Sure. “Fuck that. I judge myself. I can’t give Tennant what he needs. Even when I understand it. Even when it sinks in that he doesn’t love someone more or less than me, that we’re all equal in his mind. I. Don’t. Get. It.
“My heart fucking bleeds every time he looks at someone like they hang the moon, because fuck knows I don’t. Why would he spend time with me when he has them? Why?
“I…I can’t be good enough. I know it. I already fucked it up. I… Fuck. I just can’t anymore. I’ve tried. Truly. It may not seem like it, but I promise, my heart has done everything it can, and I. Keep. Failing.”
“As someone who lives in a poly relationship, albeit one that's smaller, I know the importance of communication, but I also know how essential it is to make sure we’re okay individually and together. It sounds like you and Tennant may have fallen in love, but you didn’t take the time to nurture your relationship. How can you trust a relationship where he doesn’t know you? And how can you trust him when you don’t trust yourself? When you don’t know your own identity?”
I gasp for air; the drowning I’ve experienced before doesn't even come close to this. I’m thrown into an undertow, tossed around, and dragged out into the sea of uncertainty… Because that’s what the last fuck knows how long has been. Nothinghas been stable—not me, not my relationship… Nothing. I’m a mirror that doesn’t show a reflection anymore. Broken beyond repair, the glass has shattered, and nobody cares enough to put it back together because they fucking can’t.
I hug myself, bending over my knees as I try to breathe, but nothing comes. Nothing. Fucking. Comes. My vision becomes spotty, and I hear Anderson yelling, but it doesn’t reach me. Nothing does. Nothing…
Hands land on me, but I can’t piece together what’s going on. It’s a kaleidoscope of colors, of sensations, and soon I’m falling. And falling. Fuck, who knows what’ll happen when I hit the ground. Maybe I’ll cease to exist. Maybe…maybe I’ll finally be free.
The pinch of a needle is the one thing I recognize, and I can only pray it’s not from Javi or Doc. If I’m lucky, it’s from Hollis. It’s time for the end, just like he promised me if I kept fucking up…
Ihold Benjamin while he sleeps, the drug-induced slumber keeping him under for far longer than I would like. Though, from what Anderson relayed after his session, Benjamin’s panic was too much for my Topolino to handle lucidly in the moment.
Fuck.Times like this, I wish Javi and his fucking merry band of therapists didn’t have such strict ethics. Anderson could only relay so much without risking breaking Benjamin’s confidence. Though the looks he gave me were loaded, I just don’t know what with.
Pressing my face into Benjamin’s soft hair as he sleeps, I take in his scent. So familiar, yet not. Our time together lately has been…tense, with all the things that have happened. The connection between us is hanging by a thread, and…much like my relationship with Cristian, I don’t know how to fix it.
Benjamin begins to stir, and I hold him just a little tighter as he stiffens when he becomes aware of me.
