by C P Harris
“I’m proud of you. Anything you need from me, you have.”
“I know,” I said, planting a kiss to the side of his neck. “You’re always there for me. Considering my needs before your own.”
He circled in my arms, meeting my gaze. “As I should. If you’re not okay, I’m not okay. Me wanting you happy is actually quite selfish of me if you think about it.”
My mouth turned up at the corners. We both knew it wasn’t true. “Do you ever get tired of being perfect?”
“I’m not perfect, Justin. If you believe nothing else, please, believe that.” Something hid beneath that statement. Or maybe not.
“Let me rephrase the question. Do you ever get tired of being perfect for me?”
“No. Because not protecting you―respectfully, not worshipping your body gently, not putting your feelings first and not supporting your decisions makes me Damon. I don’t know how to be Damon. More importantly, I don’t want to be him. The cost of being him is me losing you. That’s too high a price to pay.”
“Won’t it be great when you don’t have to be one or the other? When you can merely... be.” I hoped he couldn’t feel my heart pick up speed from where he rested on my chest. Would Blake still be if integration was a success? How would that look? Julie assured us that while there'd be some changes and adjustments, Blake’s characterizations belonged to Damon. Neither would be lost to me. But I silently feared…
“When? Are you really optimistic that this integration can happen?”
“Aren’t you?” I asked to avoid lying.
“You make me believe anything is possible.” Cupping the side of my face, he asked me somberly, “Promise me something?”
“Anything,” I whispered.
“No matter what happens along the way. Always remember that I loved you fiercely. That there has never been one thing that I’ve done since loving you that I didn’t do with the best of intentions.” He kissed me, taking his time to not leave my heart untouched by it. “Promise you’ll always find your way back to me.”
“I’m never leaving you, Blake. But if it makes you feel better, then yes, I promise.”
Once again on the couch in Julie’s office, both Blake and I were a little more at ease than the previous session. Him because she’d appeased some of his initial fears and me because seeing him more relaxed set the tone for my own trepidation.
“So, catch me up on what’s been going on since our last session. You were pretty upset when you left, Justin. Have you spoken to Damon?”
At the end of our last appointment, Julie tasked me with the job of getting Damon on board with integration. “No, not yet. I haven’t quite figured out how to kill him without ending Blake in the process. I can’t see him right now.”
“As long as you know you can’t avoid him forever. He’s essential to this goal, and besides, if you don’t go to him, he will find his way to you.” She looked at Blake to confirm he understood her meaning. He did. We both did.
“We need to discuss how he’ll be informed.”
“I don’t see him being a willing participant,” Blake answered.
“We’ll worry about that a little later,” she said. “Can you explain your past role in Damon’s life?”
Blake got right to it. “Damon’s emotionally stunted. He learned early on that weakness served as Emilia’s catnip. He shuts down if anything outside of anger and pissing on his territory is required. It’s how he survived her. Or some semblance of survival. At first, I was someone to talk to or ignore.” His tone was casual, expressing that either option was fine. “A cognizant guest within the fragile framework of his mind.”
“And how did that make you feel?” she asked.
“Like a voyeuristic prisoner lacking agency of my own.” Realizing how acerbic that sounded, he clarified, “I was the part of him that could be vulnerable, rational, and find strength in my fear. My purpose didn’t stray far from that, nor did I know to wish it could.”
Julie crossed her legs and flipped to a clean page in her notepad. “When did you become corporeal?” she asked.
Blake’s hands balled into fists, resting on his knees. I rolled my neck on my shoulders, my own sort of preparation for where we were headed.
“After the move to Chadwick,” he answered.
Julie noticed the shift in the air around us, but she maintained her professionalism. “What significance did that event play on your station?”
I made a move to stand, needing circulation for my building tension. Blake placed a gentle touch on my forearm. “Stay,” he said quietly.
I eased back into place beside him, ensuring that not even air could slide between our bodies where they connected. I ignored the growl of my innards begging for movement, more than happy to suffer in silence for him.
“Two important events happened that summer,” Blake said. “Damon had a growth spurt, and Emilia became pregnant. Now a whole foot taller than her, she could no longer hurt him physically.” The emotional abuse never ended. “But she’d soon have someone else to inflict her pain upon.”
A blackness that had little to do with the storm brewing outside descended on the room. Blake seemed oblivious to it, too entangled in the retelling of Damon’s hell. But I felt it with every hammering beat of my heart.
“Benjamin was born the following summer. Emilia’s relationship with Travis began to unravel at that point. He spent more and more nights away from home, and she spent more of her nights drinking or scouring town in search of him.
“Damon had been friends with the neighbor's son, Ash, for a while by that point. Even before Benji was born, Damon spent most of his time, outside of school, at Ash’s house. Anything to escape Emilia.
“Ash’s mom worked at a daycare center in town. Damon would have Benji ready for her in the morning, and he’d be sure to be there when she dropped him off in the evenings.” He stopped, not relishing in revealing more.
“Do you need a break?” Julie asked, getting up to retrieve two bottles of water from the small fridge near her desk, then placing them on the table in front of Blake and me. Blake downed half his bottle in one go. Mine sat unmolested. I didn’t think I could keep even water down.
“I’m okay,” Blake said. “Emilia and Travis continued on their downward spiral, and as Benjamin grew, so did his needs. Damon loved Benji, but he struggled to extend his capabilities beyond that of a protector. Benji needed to be nurtured.
“I took my first steps a year after Benjamin was born. No longer were we communicating mind to mind. I became sentient, and Damon maintained total control over the switch.” Predicting her next question, he said, “It felt like the expelling of a long-held breath, like shedding the chains that kept me bound. The lock on my cell had been thrown.” He grunted. “I didn’t know I’d been a captive until Damon set me free.”
For a split second, Julie’s mask of steely purpose slipped. A note of apology flitted across her eyes. Had I not been watching closely, looking for signs that her line of questioning would take a turn, I’d have missed it. The dampness under my arms began to spread its wings, and I rubbed my clammy hands up and down my thighs, hoping the dark denim would absorb the moisture.
“What happened to Benjamin, Blake?” she asked faintly.
Blake poked me with his gaze, the heat of it burning my cheek. I couldn’t turn his way; I wouldn’t have been able to hold it together if I did. Instead, I slid even closer to him, until our bodies touched from shoulder to knee.
Blake’s voice dropped an octave. “One day, Ash wanted Damon to go with him to the school basketball game. Ash’s mom wasn’t home to watch Benji, so Damon told him he couldn’t go. In came Emilia, informing him that Benjamin was her kid, not his, and that she was taking him to surprise his father at work.” He paused. Dreading what came next, I fought to beat back the nausea. Julie remained composed, but the constant crossing and uncrossing of her legs proved that she wasn’t unaffected.
“Damon had a feeling something was off.
But he wanted to go with Ash, so he didn’t push. Emilia remained hateful, but she’d stopped drinking, so all should have been fine. Or so he hoped.
“He entered the house later that evening, and the first thing he noticed were bloody handprints along the walls. Really small handprints, really low on the wall. Following the trail into the living room, he found Benji on the floor, and he was unrecognizable.
“Damon turned on his heels and made his way down the hall to his mother’s room. The next memory I have is of Damon under observation in a hospital. That’s the first time that I’d had a total blackout. I woke up to a great sense of pain coming from him. Not a pain of the body, but one of the mind.
“No longer sentient, we spoke internally. It'd been a while since we spoke to each other in that way, but it seemed to be what he needed. Over the next several days, I was able to piece together what happened from listening to the doctors and the detectives that were in and out. Damon's mother found Travis in the parking lot of his job with another woman. She shot and killed them both. Then went home and killed Benjamin, and then herself.” Blake rubbed at his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Utterly exhausted. “Had Damon been there—”
“She might have killed him too,” I interrupted, stopping his dark thoughts from spiraling. “You don’t know that he could have stopped her. Damon was a kid, not God.”
Blake nodded. “After that, we mostly talked to each other. As time went on, even that became less frequent. An actual switch would happen every now and again, but for short periods of time. Always having to do with smoothing things over with Ash, when Damon’s highhandedness earned him the silent treatment.” Ashton’s mother took Damon in.
“Several years later, it would start to happen more often. After he met Justin.”
I finally met and held Blake’s stare. He reached to run a finger down my cheek, his love for me on full display.
“Fast forward to a few days after Justin’s rape, and I’m a permanent fixture. Justin and I picked up the pieces and moved on, and Damon goes unseen and unheard of for five years. Now he’s back. The difference now is that when he’s back, I’m gone. Not only when they’re intimate. I lose time completely, until he leaves.”
I ran a hand through Blake’s hair, and he leaned in with a sigh of contentment. Julie retrieved her writing instruments from where she’d slipped them on the coffee table and finished up her notations.
“It sounds like it’s not the actual progression or addition to current trauma that influences the change in dynamics between you and Damon, but when something new is required of him emotionally. Something completely foreign to him. You communicated completely internally until Benjamin needed him to love him in a way Damon didn’t think himself capable of. That’s when the first shift―or switch as you called it—took place. Then, after the death of his brother and mother, he no longer needed the softer side of himself―which would be you―as often, so your relationship went back to being mostly internalized. Eventually, Justin enters the picture, and he’s back to physically needing you. And he maintained complete control.” She took a deep breath and looked up from her notes. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I’ve never seen a case where the host has absolute supremacy.”
I sat forward. “What does that mean?”
“One of three things is happening.” She started to tick them off her fingers. “Either Damon is still in full command and doesn’t understand that yet.”
She included a second digit.
“He knows, but doesn’t want you to know that, yet, for whatever reason. Or your time here has enabled you to develop guards that he hasn’t fully worked out how to penetrate by force, since your comings and goings have always been consensual. Until now.”
Blake appeared troubled by the word consensual, but the look on his face vanished so fast I thought I must have imagined it.
“The latter is the more likely option. I can feel him trying to push through,” Blake said.
“Which means this is now moving from consent to force. We need to keep your relationship mutual. We’re already ahead of the game significantly if we can do that.” She gave us time to digest this before moving on. Her eyes landed on me. “I’m aware that as of right now, your only communication with Damon happens at Elite. You’ll need to discuss this with him as soon as possible.” To Blake, she said, “And we’ll need to figure out how we get Damon out of Elite and into my office. If he agrees.” She regarded me with a raised brow.
“Oh, he’ll agree,” I told her. Hopefully, we could accomplish that goal without violence. She glanced at her watch, which prompted me to look at mine. We’d gone over our allotted time.
Wrapping things up, she said, “Justin, your assignment is to make Damon abreast of what’s going on and what’s needed of him. Blake, I need you to learn all you can about a drug called seproxetine. I’ll be discussing it with you the next time we meet.”
With that, she stood, and we both followed suit. Coming closer to take both our hands in hers, she said, “Don’t hesitate to call me. No matter what time. If I’m with a patient, tell my assistant that it’s an emergency, and she’ll put you through. If it’s after hours, my calls are redirected to an on-call service that can get in touch with me.”
“Thank you. We might take you up on it.”
Chapter Six
I ran, and I danced, and I sat and gazed out the window.
That about summed up my daily routine since taking my leave of absence from the theatre. Earlier today, I decided to switch things up a bit. Instead of sitting on the sofa and rain-watching, I perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, giving me a direct view through the living room to the windowed walls.
The lights in the apartment were off. And although daytime, the storm clouds prevented any illumination the sun may have offered from getting inside. Checking the clock over the stove confirmed it was still afternoon. I can’t go on like this much longer.
It’d been a great esteem boost when Julie approved of my decision to take time off to find myself. Her validation of my choices meant everything to me.
I still toyed with my initial idea of starting a garden at the Chadwick house. Nervous about going back—back to my past—but it had to be done.
Several weeks had gone by since Julie issued my assignment to make contact with Damon, and I had yet to complete it. Conflicted and un-ready to face him.
A confrontation regarding the part he played in what happened to me would be unavoidable. But is now the right time? I asked myself. Would it jeopardize what we were trying to accomplish? Should I delay the conversation with him until we got a little more therapy under our belts? Could therapy be productive if I held on to this outrage? What if I could no longer be in the same room with him? What if he tried to have sex with me? Unsure if I could. What if he brushed off my feelings? What if, what if, what if―
Pushing away from the counter, I roughly pulled the elastic tie from my hair and ventured to the living room.
The couch won.
I sank my hands into my hair, admitting to myself that in spite of everything... I missed him. My body missed him too. My cock pulsed at inopportune times solely from thinking about him. Good thoughts or bad. Even right then, I could feel the heaviness between my legs aching for his attention. I pressed down on it through my sweats with the heel of my palm. Willing it to subside.
Aware that Blake could tell when I used him as a substitute for Damon, I no longer initiated sex during those moments. Moments when I needed what felt like a hate-fuck. Moments like the one I currently experienced. It wasn’t fair to him.
I also tried not to let my tension around missing Damon show around Blake because it spiraled his own anxiety.
Our sessions reached a standstill. Until we got access to Damon, we couldn’t move forward. Julie hadn’t rushed me to do anything I wasn’t ready to. But it had to be done.
Soon.
She went on to further expound on the anxiety medication that sh
e had Blake research: seproxetine. It would be used as a means to relax their mental shields. To allow a seamless flow and exchange between one another, without Blake having to fear that letting his guard down could mean total annihilation. The drug would affect Damon as much as it would Blake. They’d be on an even playing field.
We needed to get Damon’s permission first, Julie insisted. We were doomed before we even began if we didn’t first rebuild the trust between Damon and Blake.
Taking a break from my thoughts, I noticed that what little light had been coming through the window was beginning to die out. Blake would be home shortly. In need of a hot shower, or maybe a cold one, I piled my hair into a topknot and jogged up the stairs.
Showered, I left the bedroom to make my way to the kitchen. Passing Blake’s home office, I glimpsed him at his desk engrossed in whatever he was writing. I shot him a hello, which he didn’t acknowledge, and, smiling to myself, I made for the kitchen. He got so consumed when working. Nothing outside of his immediate focus would penetrate. Almost nothing.
Maybe I should take up cooking now that I have so much free time. That could be something I might find interesting. Imagining Blake having to come home every day and play guinea pig to my latest creation did have its own sinister appeal. My mind now turned back to seeing Blake upstairs, right hand flying rapidly across his pad of paper…
Letting go of the fridge door and backing up until my lower back hit the counter, I replayed my last thought. Right hand flying rapidly across his pad of paper...
Fuck, fuck, fuck... no, this can’t be.
Blake was left-handed.
My head snapped up to the ceiling as if my gaze could burn through it. As if it could singe past plaster and beams and bolts and nails. Giving me the power to murder my fears by showing me that what I believed to be true could not be. I needed it to be impossible. And yet, the violent beating my heart was subjected to from the blood pounding through at a dizzying speed told me that my naive desire for such power would be pointless. I already knew what I would find.