Survivor Stories

by J P Barnaby

  “Aaron, I know this is a very personal question, but it’s something I need to know in order to help you.”

  “I’ll tell you if I can,” Aaron offered.

  “Have you had any kind of fantasies about sex since you were attacked?”

  Aaron shook his head quickly.

  “Was this the first dream you’ve had like that?” Dr. Thomas asked, his voice very gentle.

  “No, I’ve had one other, but it was just… just a kiss.”

  “It’s not uncommon for people who have been assaulted, especially with such violence, to disconnect from sex, even to be scared to think about it because they think it means they wanted the assault to occur. I’m not going to try to invalidate those fears, because they are very real to you.”

  Aaron looked up then, surprised. Other shrinks had kept telling him there was no reason to be afraid; it was all over now. Not one of them told him it was okay to feel what he was feeling, that it was okay to be afraid.

  “I’m going to ask you a few more questions to get a better background, a better understanding.”

  “Okay.”

  “Was the dream about someone you know?”

  Aaron flushed scarlet from his hairline, down his neck. With his normally pale complexion, he felt almost like his face was glowing. He had no idea how to explain to his doctor he’d had sexual dreams about his son.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Someone you’re close to?”

  He nodded.

  “Now, again this question is foundational. There are no right or wrong answers, no judgments. Anything you tell me in these sessions is strictly confidential unless I feel you are in danger.”

  Oh God, he already knows, Aaron thought.

  “Was it a man or a woman you dreamed about?”

  At that, Aaron stood and walked over to the window.

  “A guy,” Aaron said flatly, not turning back. He liked the Thomas family’s huge rolling lawns and the flowers that even now were still visible, intermingled with the other landscaping. It was calm and peaceful here, not like his house where the neighbors were just a few feet away and his brothers were everywhere.

  “Were you attracted to the man in your dream?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you attracted to men in general?”

  Aaron couldn’t stop the helpless tears that formed in his eyes. Talking quietly to the trees outside rather than to the shrink who sat waiting for his answer, he said, “I figured it out about a year before the attack.” He noticed neither he nor Dr. Thomas ever called a spade a spade and used the term “rape.” It was always “the attack” or “the assault.” “That’s why they picked me; somehow they knew. Maybe it was the way I walked, or some other mannerism they considered effeminate. Because I’m gay, Juliette lost her life.”

  “I don’t think that’s true, actually,” Dr. Thomas said quietly, and Aaron turned around from the window.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, moving toward the chair in front of the man.

  “I have done a lot of research, read hundreds of case studies about violent rapes, because helping to treat the survivors of these kinds of attacks is what I specialize in. Statistically, an overwhelming majority of gang rapes on a male and female victim are on couples. I’m almost positive you and your friend were targeted because that group of men thought you were a couple. Rape isn’t really about sex; it’s about power and humiliation. Assaulting you in front of a girl they thought was your girlfriend, and hurting her in front of you when you were powerless to stop them, gave them a sense of power.”

  Stunned, Aaron sat back and thought about Dr. Thomas’s explanation. For well over two years, he had assumed they had been targeted because of his sexual orientation. Could it be possible he was wrong?

  “As for you having a sexual dream about another guy, particularly one you are close to, there isn’t anything wrong with that. In fact, I would take that as a positive sign. What did you do when you woke up?”

  “I went to take a shower. I felt… dirty.”

  “You didn’t masturbate?” he asked in a clinical tone, which made Aaron feel slightly less embarrassed, but he still blushed as he answered.

  “I haven’t done that since before….”

  “Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” Dr. Thomas said, taking note of Aaron’s agitation and embarrassment. “Please consider that sexual dreams and masturbation are normal and healthy, Aaron. There is no reason for you to feel ashamed or guilty. I do believe that you beginning to rediscover your sexual self is an improvement. You are starting to work past your fears and take your life back.”

  IT WAS the first time in over two years that Aaron had taken a shower before bed. Normally, because of his desperate need for routine and structure, he took one as soon as he woke to wash away the vestiges of his nightmares. As steam rose above the curtain, he removed his clothes, folded each piece, and set them neatly on the sink. His hands trembled with the fear of what he was about to do. Dr. Thomas said that masturbation was healthy, that reclaiming his sexuality would help in his recovery. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone walking in on him while he jacked off in bed, so a shower was his only other option. Making sure he’d locked the bathroom door, he turned and pulled back the curtain. The water felt pleasant on his naked skin in a way he didn’t quite remember feeling before.

  Stalling, he grabbed the shampoo and washed his hair. Nothing about the situation felt sexy. It felt forced and uncomfortable, like he was doing it just to prove to himself that he could. With a growl of frustration, he grabbed the bodywash from a ledge in the back and let a bit pool in his palm. Foregoing the washrag, he rubbed his hands together to lather them and ran his hands over each opposite arm. Closing his eyes, he drew in a shaky breath as his fingers slid across his bare chest. The jolt of arousal when his fingers trailed across his nipple surprised him. He hadn’t expected to ever feel that spark again.

  Still soft, he closed his eyes and conjured an image of Spencer in his mind, but it wasn’t the Spencer from school. Rather, it was the Spencer from the dream, the one who wanted to kiss him. He replayed the dream kiss in his mind, embellishing and adding little pieces of fantasy. His cock started to get hard at the thought of Spencer’s tongue in his mouth, fencing with and teasing his own. With a longing he didn’t know he could achieve, he wanted to feel Spencer’s lips against his.

  A quiet moan, lost in the shower mist, escaped his parted lips.

  He trailed his fingers lightly down ribs visible through his skin, though he didn’t look. He knew each and every scar. Sliding along the concave shape of his stomach, the touch tickled as he hesitated just below his navel. Could he really do this? Still focused on Spencer’s face, Aaron toyed with the coarse hair that haloed his penis, too scared to take it in his hand. Half-hard from the anticipation alone, he concentrated on how it would feel for Spencer to be in the shower with him, touching him. Spencer would be so gentle, loving in a way he’d rarely seen in life. Aaron needed gentle. He needed it so badly.

  A soapy hand wrapped around Aaron’s dick, and for one fleeting moment, he wanted it to be Spencer’s hand. As the desire and power washed over him, he put Spencer on his knees in the shower before him. His cock strained forward in his hand, desperate for the feel of a hot mouth. Aaron had no idea how that would feel, but if the hand twisting over the head of his hard cock was any indication, he wanted to find out.

  Resting his other hand on his stomach, Aaron let his head fall back and savored the wonderful, erotic decadence of masturbation. Before the attack, he’d jacked off a few times a week. He had almost forgotten how good an orgasm felt, how relaxing it could be. God, how he’d love to be able to sleep without drugs after a nice hot come in the shower. Hot and slick, he glided his hand effortlessly over his skin. Chasing that perfect feeling, he stroked harder.

  The voice came from nowhere.

  You like that, don’t you, faggot?

  Aaron’s hand jerked away from his bod
y as if he’d been burned by it. He could feel the breath on the back of his neck as his tormentor spoke. The smell of beer and sweat was just a memory, but it was potent in the stifling air. An echo of his screams filled his ears as he remembered that first violent penetration. They were on top of him—ripping, cutting, and ruining his body, forcing his face into the oil-stained floor.

  He reached back and slammed the shower from hot to cold. The erection he’d managed to achieve was long gone, but with the freezing water, his memories seemed to recede as well. Aaron forced them back into the glass box where they lived, transparent so they could always watch him and come out at his most vulnerable. Such as when he stood naked in the shower, horrified by his own sexual self.

  A violent shiver wracked his body as he turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Even at room temperature, it was warm against his blue-tinged skin. His shoulders heaved, and tears streamed down his face as he reached for the clothes, still folded neatly on the sink, as if he hadn’t just broken into pieces. The shirt trembled in his shaking hands when he pulled it over his head. He relaxed marginally with the modesty it afforded.

  After throwing on his briefs and sweats, he grabbed his laptop and sat back on his bed. With a heavy heart, he opened his blog and started to write.

  Eighteen

  SPENCER: I got hosting through Hostcast and put it on one of my dad’s cards. He was thrilled to support blah blah blah…. Anyway, they have some templates we can use for the basic site. We just have to finish the installer and we can put the app up for download.

  AARON: Spaaron.com was a good name for the site, very clever. Very techy. Anyway, I can finish up the installer tonight, and we can load it up from the lab tomorrow during class.

  SPENCER: No way, you have homework to do for my dad tonight. I’ll finish the installer tonight. I have the most recent code changes anyway.

  AARON: Fuck, I was hoping you’d forget.

  SPENCER: Just set up an account on one site and look around.

  AARON: You really think I’m going to find an online support group for people as fucked up as I am?

  SPENCER: You are not fucked up, but yeah, I think you can find a way to make some friends without having to leave the safety of your house.

  AARON: Maybe if they never meet me in person, they won’t know what a mess I am.

  SPENCER: Yep, you’re just a hot mess.

  Spencer looked at Aaron, who sat at the desk beside him in the midst of an explosion of laughter. Red-faced, with his head down almost on the surface of the desk, Aaron’s shoulders shook violently, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh with him.

  AARON: OMG, I can’t believe you just said that. I’m actually blushing.

  SPENCER: You crack me up. I’m going to head to the john. You want to go ahead and add the code for the new security changes to the API?

  AARON: Yeah, I’ll just work on your desktop rather than synching the code to my laptop.

  SPENCER: Cool. I’ll be back in a few.

  Spencer headed out of the room, still chucking under his breath, and walked into the downstairs bathroom. It was more of a half bath, really, with just a sink and toilet. The bathrooms upstairs were huge, and his had a whirlpool, which he happened to love. Seeing Aaron let go and laugh like that meant so fucking much to Spencer. Little by little over the last three months since they’d started working on the project together and had become friends, his heart had let Aaron in.

  He washed his hands and noticed, to his annoyance, that neither he nor his father had put a towel up. Wiping his wet hands on his jeans, Spencer stopped by the refrigerator to pick up two sodas and a bag of chips on his way back to the rec room. He was pretty sure his dad would be asking about dinner soon, because when Spencer got home at two in the afternoon, his father was still passed out in his room.

  The first thing he noticed when he came back was that Aaron wasn’t typing. The second thing he noticed was that Aaron was white as a ghost.

  “What. Is. Wrong.?” he asked as he dropped the sodas and chips on a table and approached Aaron very slowly. Aaron startled easily, and Spencer didn’t want to make any sudden movements.

  “I didn’t mean to read it…. It came up while… while… I….” Aaron stammered, pushing back from the desk. He stumbled a little when he stood, and Spencer looked past him to see a second chat window.

  DAD: You want pizza or tacos for dinner?

  DAD: Spence?

  DAD: Look, I know you’re upset with me about Aaron.

  DAD: Yes, he told me he was gay, and I know you want to be with him, but I don’t think he’s ready to explore that, not after what happened. You need to give him time.

  DAD: Spencer, will you just talk to me?

  SPENCER: I was in the bathroom, Aaron got your messages. Give me a few minutes.

  “Aaron., I. Do. Not. Know. What. To. Say.,” Spencer said quietly, trying to look anywhere except Aaron’s terrified face. God, he couldn’t even imagine what Aaron must be thinking. They’d never even talked about anything remotely related to sex. He didn’t want those damn messages to change their relationship. He didn’t want to lose his friend. Aaron walked over to the couch and sat down, so Spencer followed and sat at the opposite end, facing him.

  “What did he mean about wanting to be with me?” Aaron asked and pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked so much like a scared little boy that Spencer longed to hug him, but he didn’t dare. In his head he scrambled for an explanation for the messages, but they were pretty damn clear.

  “I. Am. Gay. Too., Aaron.,” Spencer started, and then stopped. It was so much harder than he thought it would be. “I. Did. Not. Want. You. To. Find. Out. That. Way.. I. Am. Sorry.. I. Do. Like. You., But. I. Do. Not. Want. That. To. Get. In. The. Way. Of. Our. Friendship..” Aaron looked around the room, apparently at a loss for what to say. Spencer understood how he felt. Rather than rambling on with another apology, Spencer decided to do just what his father suggested and give Aaron a little time to digest what he’d said. He could see the struggle in Aaron’s furrowed brow, the doubt and pain in his eyes. God, what Spencer wouldn’t give to take it away. Then Aaron spoke, and Spencer nearly missed what he said because he spoke to his knees.

  “I like you too.”

  Speechless, Spencer took a chance and very slowly reached out to put one finger under Aaron’s chin. Aaron went very still but didn’t move away. When his finger connected with Aaron’s skin, his heart skipped. Lost in the sea of Aaron’s eyes, the perfect clear blue of the ocean at midday, he found it hard to breathe.

  Aaron’s face moved closer, just a fraction of an inch, and Spencer wanted to bridge the gap, but he couldn’t move. If Aaron wanted something, he’d have to take it. Spencer wasn’t going to push or even ask for anything. One wrong move with Aaron could set back everything he’d accomplished over the last few months.

  “I had a dream about kissing you,” Aaron admitted. “I’ve never kissed anyone, but I… I think… I think I want to.”

  “You. Have. To. Do. It., Aaron.. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Take. Anything. Too. Far.. Please.,” Spencer whispered.

  Aaron scooted forward on the couch and then stopped. Spencer could feel his heart pounding in his throat. Aaron’s eyes closed, and he took several long, deep breaths before his lips turned up into a smile. He opened his eyes again, only briefly, and watched Spencer’s face until they were too close.

  Spencer felt Aaron’s soft, sweet lips against his. With trembling hands, Spencer grabbed the edge of the couch cushion so that he didn’t wrap his arms around Aaron and trap him in his grasp. He couldn’t predict how Aaron would react to being held like that. But he did let his lips fall open. He couldn’t help it; he wanted more.

  The first frightened touch of Aaron’s tongue against his made his cock throb against the unforgiving fly of his jeans. Their long, slow, sweet kisses were almost too much for Spencer to bear. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He felt as if his chest might explode with the emotion welling
in it.

  And then it was over.

  Aaron sat back and stared wide-eyed at Spencer. A shaking hand came up to cover his lips as if he were afraid Spencer might kiss him again.

  The pride and love in Spencer’s heart faltered, making it plummet into his stomach. Please don’t let him be upset. Please, God. He’s been through so much.

  “Aaron., I…,” Spencer started, but nothing else came to him. Embarrassed, he sat there with his mouth hanging a little open. He wanted to tell Aaron he didn’t expect anything from him. He wanted to know what Aaron was thinking. He wanted to kiss Aaron again.

  AARON’S HEAD was spinning. He’d just had his very first kiss, with a guy, and he wasn’t freaking completely out like thought he would. The kiss hadn’t triggered any flashbacks or anxiety, just a nervous kind of butterfly feeling in his stomach. The reality of kissing Spencer made his dream dull in comparison.

  “Wow, that was—” Amazing. Incredible. More than I dreamed it would be. “—nice.” Aaron felt stupid, stumbling over his words, but Spencer still appeared a bit shell-shocked.

  “It. Was. Really. Nice.,” Spencer murmured as he reached over to take Aaron’s hand, where it rested on the cushion. He stopped just inches above, waiting for permission, waiting for Aaron to put his hand in Spencer’s. With a tingling sense of fear and excitement warring inside him, Aaron lifted his hand, nestled it inside Spencer’s larger one, and entwined their fingers. He’d held hands with Juliette more than a few times, just out of friendship and love, but holding hands with Spencer felt different. It felt more intimate, more personal—special.

  “I. Do. Not. Know. What. To. Do. Now.,” Spencer said to their hands. Aaron could understand his fear. He didn’t know what to do either. He’d never been in a relationship and wasn’t even sure he was capable of it. For God’s sake, he couldn’t even jack off in the shower. What kind of relationship could he offer someone? But he liked the way his hand felt inside of Spencer’s. He didn’t feel safe, exactly, but he felt content, like someone turned off the screaming in his head, at least for a little while.