Tranquility ✧ Syndisparklez

Past

"Jordan," Dr. Andor's voice interrupted the commotion that was going on down the hall. "You can come back in now... We gotta talk."

"Okay," I mumbled, my nerves jumping around in my stomach like little kids on a trampoline.

Tom was sat on the couch, patting the spot beside him. His smile reminded me everything is gonna be alright. I timidly took my place, as Andor sat behind his desk, twirling a pen in his fingers.

"I think we need to go more in depth of what MPD really is," Andor began. "MPD usually isn't something people are automatically born with. MPD is generally sprouted as a coping mechanism to deal with a traumatic experience from the past."

"...alright," I mumbled.

Traumatic experience? I don't remember any traumatic experiences.

I had a happy life. I liked to skateboard, play video games.

I don't remember anything traumatic ever happening.

"Do you have any idea on what that traumatic experience may be?" Andor finally asked.

"No, not at all," I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Okay, that's okay. Many MPD patients don't realize there was any damage done to their psyche."

"Right, I get that... But I've never had a traumatic experience," I argued.

"Jordan," Andor blurted out, his voice still patient and calm. "I'm gonna ask you a question, and I really want you to think hard, okay?"

"Okay."

"Have you ever been abused?"

My ears popped, an invisible body of water rushing through them, blocking out any noise from the real world. A sharp ring slowly began to play, filling my thoughts, filling my brain.

The room seemed to pull away from me, as if my perception of reality was turned to water, flowing peacefully down a drain.

Have you ever been abused?

A sharp sting bit down at my face, my father's curses following the slap.

My voice, so young, so distant.

"Dad, stop!"

His words were harsh, and loud... So close, it sounded as if he was screaming inside my ears.

"ＮＯ ＳＯＮ ＯＦ ＭＩＮＥ ＩＳ Ａ ＦＡＧ"

Another slap. His hits stung just as much as his words.

"Don't call me that."

My young self would try to defend my pride, try to fight for my rights.
The more I fought, the worse the beating.

Open handed slaps would transform into fast, angry fists, raining down against my jaw, skull, and chest.

Heavy boots would kick into my stomach, crimson blood would drip from my chin.

ωǺiт

"He deserved every hit," I snarled, cracking my knuckles.

"I'm sorry, would this be Tucker I'm talking to?"

"Who else would it be?" I snapped, looking at the idiot behind the desk. "Oh, Doctor Fuck-Face, good to see ya."

"Nice to see you too, Tucker... Now let's talk about your son-"

"What about him?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what, hit him? I was teachin' him to be a man. Some fag held his hand, and he was convinced he was in love... That boy made my son toss his masculinity out the window. Jordan just needed a beating or two to set him straight, that's all."

"Beating or two? Don't you think that's a little extreme?"

"Of course not, he was making a fool out of the Maron family name!"

"And you thought beating him would fix that?" Andor asked. If the desk wasn't protecting him, I would've tackled the guy.

"It would've made him shut up."

"Shut up about what?"

"Why so many questions?" I barked, growing tired of this stupid game Andor was playing.

"Just curious. Your son is a great kid... I'd hope he wouldn't have to go through too many beatings."

"He only got a beating for everyday he claimed he was gay."

"And how many days was that?"

"A full year."

Andor's face dropped, his eyebrows scrunched together. I watched him swallow, his eyes finally looking away from me for the first time since we started this conversation.

"Three hundred sixty five..." Andor finally spoke once more. "And why did you stop after a year?"

"Cause he got himself a girlfriend. I guess after a year of my work and 52 visits to the preacher he finally got his shit figured out."

"52 visits to the preacher?"

"One visit every week, it seemed to help."

"Thank you for you time, Tucker," Andor said quietly.

"What, are ya kicking me out? You mad cause I called ya a fuck face? Is that it-"

"We're done here, Tucker. I want to talk to Jordan."

Hot tears streamed down my face.

"Jordan?" Dr. Andor's shaky voice asked.

I looked up, meeting Andor's tired eyes. Tom's arms had draped around my convulsing body.

"I remember."