Devil's Effect

Looking Ahead

Chester sat on his bed, his hurt leg stretched out in front of him, his other triangled to the side. His back was against one pillow, but the other was in his lap, along with his leather bound journal and rainbow colored pen that wrote in pink, green, red, or blue, depending on what mood he was in. Journaling had been a suggestion from his therapist, a tool she suggested to help him find his voice, the same voice that had been stuffed down and smothered during his years at YRS by the abuse, by Mark's control - physical, mental, emotional, and sexual. It had slowly silenced Chester, but now it was time to find himself. His journal was a safe place where he could speak freely, and hone his thoughts. It was a way of keeping track of any dreams or nightmares. It was also a record of growth.

You can look back, Chester, she had told him, and see how things have changed, how you've changed.

Tons of changes had happened over the last few weeks, but none of them were recorded in the journal. Before Chester moved in with Amir, he'd only written in it twice, both times to jot down the contents of nightmares. But these days, his life was much slower, quieter. He found himself with a lot more alone time, and with that the heavier thoughts and ideas had come along, too. He'd been replaying how things had gone with Mike over and over in his head, trying to pinpoint where things went wrong, what he could have done differently in their relationship, and how all of it had brought him to where he was now.

With his busted ankle, Chester was even more homebound, and he'd started writing in the journal on a daily basis, trying to get the heaviness out of his head, trying to make progress, trying to be better.

That's how Mike always said it, he wrote as he sat on the bed, the door to his room open. He could hear the sounds of the house that way, Amir and Noah both wandering around downstairs, in the kitchen or at the table or watching television. He heard them go up and down the stairs and in and out of the bathroom. It made Chester feel less lonely. He always said he wanted me to get better. I'm not even sure what that means. The nightmares have been less, and I try not to think about Mark, even though that's hard. I hate what happened to him. He was mean to us, and I know he took advantage and did some horrible things, but a part of me loved him. I never wanted him to get hurt, and I really never wanted him to die.

I've never told Mike any of that. If I ever told him I loved Mark, he'd get mad at me, just like he did when I was worried about Mark after Ry hit him. It's not the same kind of love I have for Mike. I was never in love with Mark. I never daydreamed about being with him or wished we could run away together or secretly planned our wedding. It was never like that. I think maybe it was more like father/son love, which I guess is fucked up since we had sex. I don't ever want to tell anyone that. They would really think something was wrong with me. I don't even think I could tell Ry. Towards the end, he really started to hate Mark, and he had every right to.

I miss Ryan. I miss him being around. I miss the sound of his voice and his soft touch. I miss how he makes me laugh and getting to play video games and talk about all the celebrities and fashion. We still do that stuff, just not as much when we lived together. It's better this way though. I know there's things I need to tell him, it's just hard. I love him and I don't want to hurt his feelings, even though I think I already did. He pretends like it doesn't bother him, but I know I disappointed him when I told him he couldn't stay here with me. I really need to fix that. For both of us.

And Mike. God. I miss him the way Ross misses Rachel on Friends. And I think that probably makes me more fucked up than anything else. He chose Jason. He cheated. He lied to me so many times. Lied to me right to my face and accused me of things I didn't do. And I love him anyway. If he walked in here right now and said he wanted to get back together, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I know he won't, which probably makes last night stupid. I can't believe we kissed. I miss his kisses. I miss the way he touches me and the way he says my name. I miss laying in bed with him and talking to him. I miss the way he smells and how excited he gets over things. I know we had our problems, especially over the last six months we were together. From the moment Ry and Jason moved in with us, things weren't right between me and Mike. Or maybe it was before that. I try not to think about what happened with the handcuffs at YRS. There's so much of that night that's kind of fuzzy from the drugs Mark gave me. But the reality is that's when it changed. That's when Mike started to change. Maybe it wasn't the handcuffs. Maybe it's because that was the same night Mark forced what happened between him and Jason. Either way, that was a turning point, even though I didn't know it at the time. None of it matters now, I guess. But I still miss him. I miss how we were before things got out of hand. Sometimes I get mad at myself for missing him. He's the first person I've ever been in love with, and somewhere along the line, he convinced me that we'd always be together. I never really doubted that. Maybe that's why all of this is so hard. Why I can't let him go.