Reaper's Lullaby

Gus: Breakthrough

"You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until now."
- Anonymous

It was an ordinary day, maybe a Tuesday or Wednesday, when Gus noticed it; the urge to use and the strength of his cravings were weakening. He realized he actually wanted to stay clean. Maybe it wouldn't be that hard. It would help him save some money, buy a place of his own, build some kind of life.

Being clean had already made him feel much better, clear-headed and balanced. He slept eight hours a night and ate three meals a day. He no longer felt the compulsion to pick at his skin. He was no longer paranoid. The only thing he still couldn't shake was his nightmares.

"Gus," Jeff said in their next session. His face was serious.

"What?" Gus asked, feeling nervous.

"You have four months left here. We've worked on a lot of trauma in this room. But we still haven't touched the worst of the abuse. I think you're ready to face that trauma."

Gus shifted uncomfortably and looked at Gina, who nodded. "I don't know, Jeff."

"Look at how far you've come. Do you want this to remain inside of you? The fear, the shame? Or are you ready to let it go?" Jeff asked.

"I... I think I'm ready," Gus said uncertainly.

"It'll be a long process. It won't just take this one session. It'll be very difficult. Do you understand?"

Gus nodded, feeling a little sick.

"Okay," Jeff said with a deep sigh. "Let's do one particular, very strong memory. Can you think of one?"

Gus thought, but he didn't have to think hard.

"The first time he did it," he whispered.

Jeff held up the familiar chart with the ten faces on it. One, a smiley face, meant the trauma barely affected him. Ten, a face with a squiggly mouth and crazy eyes, meant it was unbearable. Gus's goal was to move down the scale until he got to the smiley face or at least close to it. It was then that Jeff could be sure the memory had reprocessed.

"It's a fuckin' eleven," Gus said.

"I figured," Jeff said.

He passed the two small pods to Gus, who held them loosely in both hands.

"Okay. Are you ready?" Jeff asked.

Gus nodded.

"Close your eyes. Focus on that memory."

As soon as Gus closed his eyes, Jeff started the machine that made the pods vibrate back and forth in his hands, lulling him into a waking REM state. He pictured the memory, the darkness of the bedroom, the confusion and helplessness, the shame. Several seconds later Jeff stopped the machine.

"Open your eyes. Take a deep breath and let it out."

Gus breathed slowly and deeply.

"What did you notice?"

"Darkness in the room."

"Go with that," Jeff said, and he started the pods again.

This time, as Gus focused on the darkness, he began to feel the horrible sick feeling he'd had and a sudden shot of pain. He'd never remembered pain before. Why was there pain? In the conscious memory he could only remember being forced to touch his foster father, but there wasn't pain involved.

"Take a deep breath. What did you notice?"

Gus's eyes sprang open. "It hurts," he whispered. "I think I blocked it out, but now I remember."