Behind Blue Eyes

12

March 12th

I'm feeling complete and inspired by what I wrote, yesterday. I plan on sharing the story in our session, today. I don't know If I'll cry while I tell it, but it definitely got a lot of weight off of my shoulders.

Paul texts me and asks how I'm doing. I reply almost immediately and tell him I'm good now that he texted. He just sends back a smiley face, followed up with him telling me that he'll see me later at group.

---

At group, after everyone is settled in, Dr. Rhedding starts.

"Now, did anyone think about what I told you guys about on Tuesday?"

I raise my hand. "I did."

"Wow! Sam stepping right up to the plate!"

"What did you do?" Michael leans forward, suddenly having his interest piqued.

I pull out my notebook that I brought with me. "I, um... I wrote a story."

"A short story?" Encino asks me.

I nod my head. "It's about one of the nightmares I keep having."

"Would you like to share it with us?" Dr. Rhedding asks. "You don't have to if it's too much for you to read aloud."

"No, no, I can read it. It'll be cathartic for me."

He smiles. "Then by all means, the floor is yours."

I open the book and start reading out loud.

"My story.

During the early morning hours, I'm struck awake by thundering rain pounding on my bedroom window. It startles me, drenching my entire body in sweat and fear. After a few minutes, my body stops trembling and is able to rest itself. It's just rain, I say in my head, but my heart doesn't seem to be listening. The sky seems to be growing darker every second that my eyes stay focused on the window. The clouds overshadow everything outside and the rain has completely drenched everything that's in sight. A swing set that I don't remember us having is almost flooded, the gleem from the water reflecting off of the swings and the slide."

I pause to look up at everyone after reading. I see all eyes laser focused onto me. It feels weird, but a good weird.

"I call out for my brother but he doesn't hear me. I rise out of my bed, as much as I don't want to leave it, and head for my door. I open it, but the door feels a lot heavier than it should. I pry it open, though. I walk down the hallway. It's longer than it normally is, and it's at this point I begin to question if I'm truly awake or if I'm stuck in this weird, dystopian nightmare. After what feels like forever, I reach David's door down the hall. I pry his door open, too. He's not in there. I turn around and call out his name three times. Each time, I get no response. Where is he? I pull out my phone and try to call him, text him, whatever I can to try to reach him, but every single time, I get no answer."

"I'm sorry to interrupt" Encino chimes in. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"I do" I say, softly. Reading this aloud has made me retract into my shell a bit.

"Do you carry any of his genetics? Like are you twins? Do you possibly get your, how do I say it, problems, sorry, from him?"

"No. He was bullied like I was in school, but he doesn't have the... afflictions I have."

"Why was he bullied, if I can ask that?"

"He's gay."

"Oh." He's very quiet. "I know how that feels. I came out my sophomore year and was relentlessly tormented through the rest of high school. I fucking hated it."

"I'm so sorry, Encino."

"It's OK. Just know, he's got another person to talk to, if he ever needs it."

"Thank you" I smile.

"I race down the stairs, almost falling down them in the process. I struggle to turn every corner as I run around like a fool, trying to find my brother, my mother or my father. I'm all alone. Did they leave for somewhere and not tell me? Like some sort of sick surprise? I trudge back upstairs to see if my kitten is still residing in my bed. I push my door open, again. I'm not sure how it came to be closed again. I look on my bed. Max isn't there. What the hell is going on?"

"Who's Max?" asks Bittany.

"My little foster kitten" I tell her. "Well, It was a stray I just happened to take in.

"My feet feel like they're sinking into the floor. I feel my whole body falling through the carpet of my bedroom. I struggle, trying everything I can to fight it. As the floor reaches my chest, I try to dig my fingers into the floor, trying like hell to not go through, making sure I can somehow crawl back up. It's no use. I fall through the floor."

"I'm in a deep void. It's a black, empty and hollow room. At least, I think it's a room. There's a bunch of noises. Scratching, heavy breathing, screaming. I see visions of people who aren't in my life, anymore. My birth mother, my friend Jessica, none of them are alive to be in my life, anymore, but they stand before me, clear as day. Jessica grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me, violently, almost like she's trying to kill me. My birth mom is standing over us, watching it, almost enjoying it. She never loved me like she was supposed to. I feel like Jessica didn't either, but Jessica had her own demons she was fighting, and thus, I couldn't save her."

"As Jessica's menacing, pale face get's closer to mine, my body rises up and shoots back into my bed. I wake up, for real this time. It's late at night, my room enlightened only by an orange nightlight. Max is here. I can feel him, touch him with my bare hands. My nightmare might have been just that on face value: a nightmare. To me, though, and how I overthink everything, It means a lot more. I still have these horrible feelings after all these years. I have these memories of being mistreated, of being abused, of feeling helpless. I don't know what spurred these demons to come out, but they did. It shakes my body to the core. No matter how long I live, these people will still haunt me."

I don't realize it, but as I close my notebook, I've started to shake and cry. Paul, silent the whole time, leans over and puts his arm around me, rubbing my back and comforting me.

"Wow. Sam, that was brave. That took a lot of courage for you to share with us this afternoon, and I, as well as everyone else in this room, are extremely proud of you. That was something spectacular" Dr. Rhedding tells me.

Everyone around the room starts clapping for me as I compose myself, wiping my tears away.

"Thank you" Is all I can offer.

Leaving the meeting, today, I feel a lot more open, a lot more vulnerable, but above all else, more loved.

---

I let David read the story, that night. He feels sad, but he comforts me and tells me that it's just a nightmare. He follows through and says he's very impressed by my writing abilities and says I should look into a creative writing class.