It's hard to sleep, I can't stop thinking about the show earlier. His face keeps appearing before my eyes as if he's there, that angry expression haunting my mind. It's hard to wrap my head around the fact he was taking pictures, not wanting to know what he's doing with them. Perhaps nothing at all, he could just be scaring me.
I don't understand why he'd want to frighten me. I tried to forgive him at one point, but he made it hard. Part of me believes he never wanted forgiveness to begin with. I put myself out there to make amends, yet his demeanor hardly changed. He pretended he was a different person, the facade faded away over time. I never should've tried forgiving him, I blame myself for his actions now.
Deciding I don't want to be alone with my thoughts anymore, I leave my room. I wonder if Mike's awake, although I don't want to bother him. His presence sounds relaxing, I crave the calmness he brings. Standing before his door, I eventually decide to knock.
"Chester?" Mike yawns. He opened the door fast. "Are you okay?"
"Were you sleeping? I can come back later, I'm sorry for waking you," I apologize and turn to head back, but he grasps my hand.
"No, no, don't leave. Honestly, I half expected you to come after what happened earlier. I was sitting up, waiting for you," He explains and guides me inside while I blush madly. He thinks about me too much, I don't know how to accept his kindness. "Tell me what's on your mind."
"I don't know... there's a lot," I shrug and sit on the sofa. He sits across from me on the bed.
"You know I won't judge you no matter what and you can tell me anything," He reminds me, I nod. "How can I make it easier for you?"
"I'm not sure, maybe ask me things? It's hard to keep my mind straight. So much is in there, it's hard to focus on anything in particular."
"How old were you when it happened?" He asked and I take in a deep breath, preparing myself to do this. I've never been open about it, this is a huge step for me.
"It started when I was 7, continuing until 13. Eventually, I told my dad who it was, but I didn't want to do anything about it when I found out he was abused as well," I reveal and he takes my hand, squeezing it gently.
"Just because he was abused too doesn't excuse his actions. Did you ever force something like that on anyone after it happened?" He asks and I shake my head. "Exactly."
"He was young too though, just a few years older than me. At first it was experimental stuff like "what does this thing do", but it took a sharp turn when I decided it should stop - he started beating me up and forcing me. I don't know though, he was a child too."
"How did it end? Did he change?" He asked and I hesitated, honestly unsure how to reply.
"Well, it ended when I moved across town. We went to the same school though, so I had to see him everyday. At first, I wasn't really sure what to call what happened and I questioned my experiences a lot. Especially since he started being really nice to me all of a sudden. I felt crazy."
"Was he trying to be friends with you again?" He asked and I nodded.
"Yeah, he was pretty direct about it. He said he missed being so close, but I don't know what that means - we weren't really close, so to speak. He would also tell me he loved me, I took it in a friend way - like how we and the band say that to each other - even though we never had a relationship like that. He started giving me things like drawings and tees of bands I liked."
"To me, it sounds like he was trying to regain your trust," He thinks aloud.
"I thought it meant he felt guilty," I admitted with a frown. "I was still clearly uncomfortable around him, but I wanted to forgive him. I believed he could change, that the past didn't define him."
"You said it ended when you moved, so nothing else happened when he tried befriending you again, right?" He wanted to clarify, but all I could do was shrug.
"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. I have memories that seem to lead up to something bad, but they fade away before it gets there."
"Do you mind sharing an example?" He asks.
"One time, he was driving me home. I didn't live that far away, yet the drive took 30 to 45 minutes. He went the opposite direction, down country roads on the outskirts of town. I remember being really afraid, especially when the car slowed down to a stop. I don't remember what happened after that, except eventually getting home - immediately escaping to the shower. I don't know."
"I'm sorry, Ches. I really hope nothing happened," He pouted sympathetically and moved to sit beside me on the couch.
"Another time, I was sitting on the bed with him. I don't remember what he was saying, but he was talking super fast with his hand on my knee. He started moving it up to my thigh and leaning in towards me, but then nothing. Another memory that just disappears," I give another example and sigh deeply after. "Some childhood memories are like that as well, which is why I'm so fearful maybe the abuse didn't stop when I thought it did."
"Ches..." He trails off and tugs me into his arms, where I finally feel safe. My eyes fill with tears as the words I've spoken finally set in. Throughout the conversation, I almost felt robotic. Recounting memories I can't complete leaves me feeling rather empty. Now that I've collapsed into Mike's arms, the truth settles in, yet I feel so relaxed with him.
"There's so much more I could say, but I don't think I can right now," I admit with a cracked voice. I don't pull away or even attempt to move, just allowing myself to lean into Mike entirely.
"You don't have to say anything you don't want to and we can stay here as long as you need," He offers, his arms around me feeling stronger than before. I close my tired eyes.
