Page 130 of The Sound of Him

I close my eyes, feeling my body waver a little as if gravity isn’t sure it wasn’t to be gentle on me much longer.

“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 hadscreamed.

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 youaren’ta 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 canfeel 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.”