Surviving the Merge

by C P Harris

  “Sam, I don’t need another Damon,” I snapped, emotionally drained. It came out harsher than I intended, and I watched as she deflated, hating that I took her air.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m working on it.”

  I pulled her into a hug and rubbed circles on her back. I’d learned that Sam had abandonment issues that made her territorial. “I know,” I said.

  There must have been a sign on my back welcoming people with these traits into my life. I tried to peek behind me to make sure there wasn’t. Sam looked at me oddly. I gave her my best it’s nothing smile.

  “Besides, Max doesn’t want to be my friend, remember?” I took her hand, leading us over to the sofa.

  Sam gave a dismissive wave to my words and graced me with a look that asked, Are you dumb?

  “Please, Justin. No one can not be your friend once they get to know you. That’s why Damon didn’t ever want anyone getting to know you. You’re already at I’ll never let you go status with me.” She shrugged at my unconvinced look. “I give it a couple more days before loser Max gets off his high horse and comes begging. But enough about him. Tell me more about this community center.” She crossed her legs and leaned forward with the most brilliant and eager smile. I kissed her forehead and dove right in.

  Afterwards, she said “I want in. Can I be a part of this?” She bounced in her seat.

  I’d told her all about the center, and she got it. She got how important the work was; she understood the mission. Of course she wanted to join in. Sam had a big heart.

  “They’re always looking for more volunteers. What would you do, though? How do you see yourself contributing?”

  She hesitated, turning shy, picking the lint off her lint-free top. “I, um… I paint. I’m an artist. I actually have my first exhibition next week.” She squared her shoulders, preparing for me to scoff at her.

  “Oh, you’ve never mentioned that before,” I said, while thinking back on past conversations.

  “It never really came up.” She avoided eye contact.

  I forced her chin up. “Don’t bullshit me. What’s the real reason you’ve never told me?”

  After struggling with the decision to either gaslight me or tell the truth, she went with honesty. “Because you’ve got so much going on in your life, and if I told you, then I’d have to possibly face the reality that you might not have time to…”

  “Be there for you?” I finished for her.

  “Yeah.” Her lips barely moved as she whispered the word.

  “Sam.” I ran my hands through her curls affectionately. “You need to give me a fair opportunity to be a friend. This can’t be one-sided. I need you to promise me that you won’t hold back. Please, let me be here for you.”

  “It’s those damn eyes. They get everyone every time, don’t they?”

  I raised my eyebrows, and she shielded her face. “And don’t do that. It only makes them wider. Jesus, okay, okay, I promise. Now turn those things off.” She giggled and fell sideways as I poked her in the ribs.

  I made a mental note not to wait for her to open up to me. I had to pay better attention and be actively there for her. Ask the right questions. I wasn’t the only one dealing with residual trauma, and Sam’s caused her to believe that if she was too much of a bother, then people wouldn't want to be bothered with her. As early as just a few weeks ago, I would have beaten myself up for a moment like this. For not being a better friend. I would’ve thought I needed to have it all figured out already and that any sign of failure meant I’d never get it right. But as the minutes, hours, days, and weeks passed by, I began to understand more of what Blake meant when he said the fun was in the journey, not the destination. I was learning, and I still had a long way to go, but the ride would be the thing to shape me into who I was always meant to be.

  “So, what day is the showing—”

  “Exhibit—”

  “Same thing—”

  “Except it’s not—”

  “Sam!”

  She keeled over with laughter.

  “Are you fucking with me?” I asked.

  “You make it too easy,” she choked out, tears of mirth running down her face.

  Later that evening, I stood outside the patio door observing the sunset and the group of people sitting in Max’s backyard in front of a fire pit. The Misfits. They’d been out there for over an hour now, and from the looks of it, the last person had the baton.

  Sam came up beside me and asked, “That’s why you didn’t want to paint your room black?”

  “Huh?” I asked, looking down at her.

  “At the furniture store, when you were paying for the beds, I suggested you paint the apartment bedroom black. You shot the suggestion down. Because it reminded you of the all-black room where you were—you know.”

  “Yeah, it did.” My gaze returned to the gathering in Max’s backyard.

  “I’m impressed that you’re so open to sex after what happened.”

  “That took time, Sam. For the first year, I couldn’t be touched at all. No hugs, kisses... nothing.” Into the second year, I started masturbating excessively. Obsessed. Shame would set in soon after, then hysteria. Blake loved me through it all. “Slowly, I became okay with being held while I slept.” But if I felt Blake harden behind me, all bets were off. He never once complained or made me feel guilty for being only half of me. If he suffered, it was done in silence. “Eventually, I worked my way up to being penetrated, but I couldn’t reach completion. Not unless I jerked myself off.” I peered down at Sam again. Her eyes exuded a tender care, and she looped her arm through mine.

  “I got better in stages, and soon, I was making up for lost time.” Blake couldn’t keep up. My sex drive became unmanageable. He urged me several times to talk to someone, but I wouldn’t. I just wanted to forget. “I put what happened out of my mind.” After some time, I no longer needed Blake to pull into gas stations so that he could take me over the sink of the grimy restroom, all because I couldn’t wait the fifteen minutes it would’ve taken to get us home.

  “And then I started craving something else. Something I hadn’t had in a long time. I ended up getting what I wanted, but not without consequences.”

  Warm pressure encased my forearm. I looked down and covered Sam’s hand with mine. Then I placed my arm around her shoulder and drew her into my side. We stood in silence, watching the last dregs of sun rays fall below the horizon.

  “You should go talk to him. If you really want to be friends, you’ll need to tell him everything. Sorry might not cut it,” she said.

  “Yeah, you might be right.” Giving her shoulder one final squeeze, I let go and marched across the yard, shimmying between the shrubs.

  Everyone grew quiet at my approach. Max’s shot daggers at me with his eyes. Pluto lay on the grass with his tongue out, looking between the both of us before deciding to come say hello. “Hey, Pluto. I’ve missed you too.”

  “He doesn’t even know you,” Max drawled. “None of us do.”

  His poorly concealed reference to him not knowing who I really was hit its mark. “Fair enough. I’m here to fix that.” I fetched the empty lawn chain leaning against the house and joined the circle. “Sorry for interrupting,” I addressed everyone, “but there’s a wrong that I need to make right. If you’ll allow me a moment of your time, I’d like to do that. In front of all of you.” When no one responded, I took that as my cue to continue.

  “My name is Justin. That’s my house over there.” I pointed behind me. I exhaled sharply and looked straight at Max. No more hiding. From now on, I would live in my truth. “I left Chadwick shortly after being brutally beaten...” I hesitated, “and raped, at a fraternity party some years ago.”

  Max’s expression shifted from mild annoyance to horror.

  “I ran from this town and the memories it held. I ran right back into its arms after discovering that my husband’s betrayal was the catalyst to what took place that night.” A few murmurs started
up, but Max didn’t take his eyes off me. “Well, to be fair, I always knew he started the domino effect. What I recently found out, however, is that it wasn’t husband number one that betrayed me, but husband number two.” Looking around, I saw the same look of pity and confusion on everyone’s face.

  “I guess I should start from the beginning.” I felt a hand rest on my shoulder from behind. My magic-girl had my back.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this when you came to apologize?” Max asked.

  We’d left the circle and were now standing by the shrubs that separated our yards. I watched Sam make her introductions and converse with the remaining Misfit members.

  “It’s not the easiest thing to talk about, Max. You were pissed, and I couldn’t think fast enough when you opened the door. Would I scare you away with my drama? Would you think I was full of shit? Was it too much too soon? And I was exhausted and feeling low.”

  Max nodded his head in understanding. “So that was Damon I met?”

  “Yeah.”

  Max shoved a hand through his hair and whistled. “I gotta say, he’s intimidating. He sucks all the air out of a room. How do you deal with him?”

  “It’s not easy,” I said dryly, “but when it gets to be too much, I remind myself that at his core, Damon is still a child. A scared child. His emotional development doesn’t stray too far from that fact.”

  “I know there’s more to this story than what you were able to share in those handful of minutes, and I get that it’s not only your story to tell, so I won’t push for more,” he said.

  “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “You’re more than welcome to stay. I can properly introduce you to everyone. You’ll be seeing them a lot, anyway.”

  “Maybe some other time,” I said, watching Sam head my way.

  “Raincheck?” He winked.

  I laughed, “I owe you a ‘bit,’ and you owe me introductions.”

  “Don’t forget the drink,” he quipped. I shook my head, happy to be back in his good graces.

  His voice dropped a register. “See you tomorrow... friend.”

  I smiled, and, shielding his eyes in the crook of his elbow, Max said, “Hey, keep your eyes to yourself, will ya?”

  We both laughed as he jogged to his yard. He waved to Sam as he passed her.

  “So, to your shoulders?” she asked, grabbing a handful of my loose hair.

  “I’m thinking more mid-back.”

  “Oh my god, did Damon get to you? Last week you wanted it cut to your shoulders.”

  “No, he didn’t,” I said, a little too fast.

  Hands on her hips, she raised a brow.

  I crossed my arms. “He said ‘please.’” It came out sheepish. She rolled her eyes and walked by me to enter the house, shaking her head fondly.

  Sitting in the dining room, I inquired about Sam’s exhibit while she worked on my hair.

  “It’s Thursday night at the Artists’ Expo on Glenwood avenue. There’s a cocktail hour before the show. All proceeds go to the arts program at The Children’s Hospital.”

  “When did you start painting? I want to hear it all.”

  She could barely stand still as she filled me in; her love for art was palpable. She shared a childlike quality with Damon, but in a different way. Damon was more the surly kid pouting in the corner when he didn’t get his way. Sam was the love-starved child that lit up and purred when stroked or when showed any type of interest. It made me love her even more. It made me protective of her too.

  “All done. Go take a look.”

  “It looks great,” I said in awe, looking in the bathroom mirror. She took about six inches off.

  “You say that like you’re surprised. Did you think I was lying when I said I could do hair?”

  Laughing, I placed one hand behind her neck and the other around her waist, then dipped her backwards, dropping a kiss to the crease between her brows. She released a startled yelp while gripping my shoulders. “Of course not,” I said, placing her back on her feet. “Okay, I’m exhausted. You know where everything is, so make yourself at home. I’m going to bed.”

  Entering the bedroom, I wheeled around holding my chest when the door slammed behind me. “Shit, Damon. What the hell?” Willing my heart rate to slow, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Is that why you were deep in conversation with that fucker? Because you thought I wouldn’t be back? Is this what it’s come to now? I’ve got to pop up on you unexpectedly?” Damon stepped close to me, slipping one hand into the back of my sweats and down my crease, spreading me apart, while his middle finger began circling my rim. He examined my haircut with the other.

  “I’m too tired to argue, Damon.” I melted into his touch.

  He froze and looked at me intently. Even through the darkness of the room, I could see his eyes turn soulless. “And why is that?” he asked, his finger now rotating between my rim and pulsing against my taint.

  “Just take a shower with me, then fuck me already,” I said, annoyed. “Shit. I forgot Sam is here. We’ll need to be quiet.”

  He snorted. “I have no intention of sleeping with you tonight. You need at least one more day to recuperate.”

  “Damn it, Damon. It’s my body. If I say I’m ready, then I’m ready.”

  “Listen, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t push me to use you roughly and then not graciously deal with the repercussions.”

  Slapping my ass, he withdrew his hand and walked toward the bathroom. My body clenched around the loss.

  Stepping into the shower with me, Damon chose to relax on the marble bench with one leg propped up on the edge. His forearm was slung lazily over his knee while he watched me soap up.

  “Are you reading the book as well?” I asked, curiously. So many changes were obviously taking place, and maybe it was time I inquired more about them.

  “No, but I listen as Blake reads it.”

  “Huh... interesting. So you’re cognitive now when he’s host? And you can hear his thoughts?”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  “Seems like you two have made a lot of progress without me.” I heard my own bitterness.

  “I’d say because of you. Not without you,” Damon corrected.

  I looked his way with every intention to ask more, but the sight of him stroking himself with that one leg up and to the side… “Why are you so cruel?” I asked, breathlessly.

  “There’s something in it for you. Touch yourself.” Damon struggled to issue the command. He ground his teeth; his jaw ticked.

  “As hot as all this is, you know jerking myself off will never be enough. I need—”

  “To be filled,” he said, cutting me off. “I know. Now, take yourself in hand.”

  Doing as I was told caused his arousal to intensify. His grip on his cock tightened while his free hand roamed slowly up his chest.

  My strokes were in sync with his, and I took a wider stance so that I could cup and squeeze my balls. The small space was steamy. It made getting oxygen that much more difficult. But we somehow managed.

  “I’m going to finish... before you,” Damon professed, his jaw going slack. “And... when I’m done, I want you to think of a way… to get yourself off that will... leave... you satisfied. Do you think you can do that for me?”

  “I... I don’t know.” I licked my lips and swallowed when he picked up his pace.

  He panted, “I think you can.” Watching his biceps and pecs flex as his hand really began to fly had me nodding without my consent.

  “I thought... so,” Damon moaned, foot slamming to the wet floor as he leaned against the steamy glass wall and shot his spunk out on a drawn-out groan. Milky, thick, white cream landed on his thighs and everywhere else.

  Walking the few paces while jerking myself furiously, I scooped up his musky spill, crouched down, legs wide, and jammed my cum-slicked fingers up in me. I orgasmed instantly, mouth forming an O, still snapping my hips and fucking my fingers long after.


  “Do I need to ask how you feel?” Damon questioned rhetorically.

  “More,” I pleaded.

  Standing up to rinse himself off, he chuckled and said, “It’ll have to do.”

  Now laying together in bed, I stroked Damon’s chest, my leg draped over his hip while his palm rested possessively between the slit of my ass. “You know, I have something in the drawer that’s half your size. We could do something with that. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “You need Blake.”

  “What?” Not asked in anger, but a genuine desire to understand what made him say that. “I always want sex. What does Blake have to do with anything?”

  “For an upcoming performance, you would deny yourself the foods you craved. Needing to stay in peak shape. Only to end up binging on a million other things because you’re looking for something to fill that void, that emptiness that’s there because you won’t allow yourself to have what you really want.”

  I nodded in remembrance and understanding.

  “You miss Blake. You want him, but instead of giving into the craving, you’re trying to gorge yourself on me to fill that hole—no pun intended. And it’s never going to satisfy you completely. You want with an edge of desperation that has nothing to do with me.”

  “You satisfy me,” I said, offended on his behalf.

  “But you’re craving something else right now. You want to be loved innocently. With a pureness that I can’t give you. Yet. You want to be put back together, but my job is to take you apart.” To prove his point, Damon took my mouth with brute force. I ended up flat on my back with his weight slamming down on me. Breathlessly, he commanded, “Fucking forgive him already so that we can move on.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Try harder.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Max stood waiting for Sam and me when we entered the center. He agreed to take Sam on a tour before showing me the finished studio. Buying Damon some time to get there. He’d gone to pick up Ash from the airport.

  I trailed behind them, smiling at Sam’s excited reaction to the oversized, spiral staircase in the middle of the first-floor atrium. Seeing everything for the second time was just as exciting for me as the first. Maybe more so, because I got to see things I missed on my first tour due to my over excitement.