It was a giant sack of bullshit if you asked me. Sticking teenagers into a class for sixteen weeks and expecting them to come out knowing what they want to do every day for the next fifty years of their life. Making that heavy of a choice had my stomach in knots. I graduated high school, applied to and was accepted into two different colleges without ever deciding what I wanted to study. I couldn’t even narrow it down. I’d decide on something, then consider the idea that I’d be doing it forever and second guess myself all over again. My parents were worried I’d become one of those students who wasted a hundred thousand dollars switching majors every semester because I couldn’t make a decision.
And then I got kidnapped, and there was no decision to make.
If that was the universe’s way of giving me more time, it was pretty fucked up.
“Sage?” I blinked, focusing on Julie and her calming smile. Her hands were folded in her lap, legs crossed at the ankles. “Would you like to respond to your father?”
“No.”
I ignored my father’s low sigh and focused on a painting Julie had on her wall. It was an eight by ten canvas of yellow. That was it. It looked like somebody painted yellow as a background and then couldn’t choose what they wanted to paint over it so they left it as it was.
I liked it.
It reminded me of Wren. My fingers itched to yank it off the wall and deliver it to him as another gift. Aside from the sunflowers, I hadn’t been back in four days. I hadn’t really been anywhere except my bed and bathroom.
Some days, it was hard to even move.
“Sage, you do understand your father’s push, don’t you?”
I licked my lips, squeezing my sunshine pillow to my chest. “No.”
Normally, I didn’t mind coming to see Julie. I actually rather enjoyed it. This room was a safe zone for me. I could say all I wanted in two hours or say nothing at all. There was no push for me to feel anything more than I was in that moment.
But once a month, we had a family day. My parents and Brett tagged along, sitting across the room so I could keep my couch to myself and express their feelings to me and Julie.
My father’s feelings? He wanted me to consider going to college. He claimed he wanted me to move forward, put the past behind me.
What I think he really wanted was me to pretend it never happened. It was a lovely thought. If I knew of a person who could erase the last two years of my life, I’d happily give them all my money and first born child. But it just wasn’t possible, and for him to ask that of me simply enraged me.
“Can I say something?” Brett blurted. He was sitting alone, in a blue plastic chair. I didn’t meet his eyes but I could see his feet tapping.
“Sage?” Julie prompted. “Would that be okay?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, Brett. Tell us what’s on your mind.”
I heard him take a long breath. “I think my father needs to lighten up. Whether Sage has been home eight minutes, eight weeks, eight months, or eight years, it doesn’t matter. She’s not ready. She wasn’t ready two years ago before her life was taken from her, so why the hell should we expect her to be ready now? Never mind how hard it is to actually make that choice when one isn’t weighed down by whatever the hell happened to her. Sage’s mind works differently, okay? She’s still Sage, but she’s different. She needs time to figure out how to put the old Sage and the new Sage together to make one she feels comfortable being. So, we all just need to step back and let her fucking do that, yeah?”
In that moment, and I suspected in most since I’d gotten home, my brother was my greatest ally. My greatest friend. The captain of Team Sage. And I loved him dearly for it.
“Well.” Julie chuckled a little. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Brett. Are you sure your true calling is biochemistry?”
“So you believe not letting Sage choose a future is what’s best for her future?” My father sounded less than pleased. Actually, he sounded incredibly insensitive to my situation, but I knew that wasn’t the case. My father had a heart of gold that was dented immensely when I disappeared. He was attempting to rewind time in the way he knew how. One day he’d understand it just wasn’t possible. And I was not ready for that day.
“It’s not a matter of not letting her choose, Rod.” Julie corrected. “It’s simply not our top priority right now. Sage’s refusal to accept food or drink from those who aren’t her mother, and her haphephobia are more pressing matters. It’s my belief Sage will come full circle, but that takes time.”
"Haphephobia?"
"Her fear of others touching her."
My dad looked away, staring vacantly at the wall. It was his go to look when he wanted to pretend something wasn't happening. My mom, on the other hand, leaned forward in her seat as if she were about to take notes. "Does she discuss it with you?"
Julie's lips pressed into a firm line. I knew she was wishing I'd go home and confide in my mother, but I just could not do it. I would bring myself all the way to her room, lift my fist to knock on her door, and take off running in fear I'd destroy her like Kade destroyed me.
"Sage does discuss her fear with me, yes."
"Do you know what causes her fear?"
"There isn't a known cause of haphephobia, I'm afraid. Some say people are born with it or a change in brain function plays a role. My professional opinion is that Sage's fear was developed due to the trauma she experienced."
My mother nodded and set her hand on my dad's thigh, obviously seeking the comfort he could not give her. I wished so desperately I was strong enough to stand up and hold her hand myself. But the mere thought of her skin on mine had sweat pooling at my temples and running down the sides of my neck. The feeling was overpowering. There was a distinct pain whenever another body brushed mine. It felt like all my bones were crushing under the weight of even the lightest touch. If my mother were to hug me, I'd spiral. My heart rate would accelerate to dangerously fast beats. I'd scream for fear of impending danger that my rational side knew wasn't coming. I'd cry and tremble and scramble away while focusing on the blinding pain that erupted in my body, knowing there wasn't a magic pill that'd take it all away.
I was a mess.
"Is this fear detrimental to her health?" My mother whispered the question with a tremor in her voice.
"Think of it this way, when Sage was born, the doctor immediately put her on your chest. Why? Because humans need comfort in order to survive. The need for touch and human contact is innate, and the inability to be able to enjoy and accept that contact can place a staggering effect on her health. The good news is, haphephobia generally responds really well to a variety of therapeutic interventions. Sage has come a long way during our time. We still have miles and miles to go, but it's my belief Sage will not suffer forever."
I didn't believe it.
I didn't spend a lot of time considering my future, but when I did, it never included me leading any sort of normal life. I wasn't willing to open up to my brother or go to group therapy sessions like Julie suggested a million times each time I saw her. I wasn't willing to touch her, even if it was just my fingertip to hers. A slow and steady process wasn't going to help me. How could it when I'd wanted to barf at just the suggestion?
“Do you know how long it will take her to recover?” My mother asked, stroking my father’s knee soothingly.
“Janice, you can’t put a time frame on someone’s healing process. Every person and every experience is different.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to suggest she couldn’t take her time. I just... I want to help her.”
“Keep being her mother then.” Julie suggested. “Do what you do every day, don’t push unless she asks for it. I know it seems like Sage hasn’t made any progress but she has.”
“Sage.” My mother started to say something then seemed to get flooded with apprehension.
I looked into her nervous eyes and tried to smile. “Mom, it’s okay. You can ask something if you want to.”
<
br /> “I’d just like to know why you don’t share anything with us.”
“Because I don’t want to.”
The answer was that simple. I didn’t want to tell my parents or Brett any details of what went down when I was away. I wasn’t suggesting they pretend I was on a sixteen-month long vacation. I hated pretending. I just wanted them to accept that part of my life wasn’t a story I wished to re-tell. It was hard enough telling Julie everything. Cracking open my thoughts and flooding myself with the moments I remembered was exhausting. Mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting.
“I just thought that if she confided in us, we could help ease some burden.” My mom spoke quietly.
“That’s a lovely thought, Janice, but while you believe it’d ease Sage’s burden, she believes it’d add to yours.” Julie replied.
“I would carry the world for her.”
That made me smile. “Thanks, mom. But I’d rather carry it alone.”
Julie sighed. She did not approve of that plan. She begged me to bring someone along to counseling with me one day so I could confide in them too. She wished for me to share the load with a person I trusted. And it wasn’t that I didn’t trust the ones in the room with me, it’s that I couldn’t picture myself getting weak in front of them. I didn’t want to subject them to the moment I broke down. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was ugly and painful. If they couldn’t handle the idea that I suffered from nightmares, how could they handle what’s inside them?
Still, the anguish plastered on my mother’s face was so evident. I was pulled in two directions, struggling to blurt out everything she wanted to hear so all this could be over, and keeping my lips locked forever.
Either situation was painful.
“Is there something specific you’d like Sage to share with you?” Julie asked. “Perhaps, it’d be easier for her to answer a question than simply sort through what’s in her head. Would that be okay, Sage? If your mom asked you a question?”
“I don’t have to answer if I don’t want to, right?”
“Yes. Of course. That always applies.”
“Okay.” I nodded, facing my mother and squeezing my pillow tighter to my chest. As if it’d soften the blow of whatever question I was about to be asked.
She seemed to consider what she wanted to ask me. I appreciated the time she took. It gave me a moment to get it together too. “How come you don’t like cookies anymore?”
My muscles went taut. I slammed my eyes shut and took two long breaths. Cookies used to be my favorite dessert. Now I despised them. Not the taste, but just... them. Cookies in general. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with any form of them. My mother learned that in the worst way possible when she tried to bring me cookies and milk the second week I was home. I screamed the house down and launched into an episode.
“Remember, Sage, you don’t have to answer.”
I appreciated Julie’s reminder, but I wanted to answer anyway. I wanted to give my mother something.
“He called me cookie. It was a nickname.”
“Who did?”
“Kade.”
The room went eerily silent until a deep, drawn-out growl ripped out of my brother’s throat just with the mention of Kade’s name.
Kade was the anti-christ. Satan in human form. My brother wanted to kill him. My father wanted to hang him by his toes and light him on fire. My mother cursed his name at night. Julie cringed when I’d said his name. They all hated him with all pieces of them. And I hated myself because I didn’t.
“He called you cookie?”
“It was a nickname. I don’t like cookies anymore because I don’t appreciate the reminder.”
My mother nodded, working so hard to keep her face neutral. “Thank you for sharing that, Sage.”
Julie looked at me and smiled. I knew what the look on her face meant. It said “see? That wasn’t so bad. Now she knows to never give you a cookie again.”
I didn’t admit she was right. Sure, my mom knew to never buy a pack of Chips Ahoy again, but it didn’t make me feel any lighter. In fact, it made me fidgety. And clammy.
I hated talking about Kade. The things he did to me, fine. I could maybe mumble a few thoughts to Julie, but him in general? No. I couldn’t. The way I felt about Kade made me feel off balance.
I hated him, attempted to drive a knife in his throat twice and contemplated shooting myself with his gun so I could escape him.
But also, a piece of me was thankful for him. In his own fucked up way, Kade kept me safe during those sixteen months. All the suggestions he’d gotten to throw me out of the van, shoot me, sell me into prostitution, and he didn’t do a single one. It’s because of Kade that I’m not dead. And as many times as I’d wished he’d killed me when his asshole friend killed Trish, I’m still alive.
And that had to count for something, right?
“Sage? Why the tears?” Julie passed me a box of Kleenex.
I shook my head and sniffed aggressively. I was overwhelmed. “I want to go home.”
Brett flew from his seat. “I’ll take you. I drove separately.”
“We still have half an hour left!” My father protested, but I was already out the door.
Brett was hot on my heels, holding open the front door and leading me to his car that was parked on the street. He used the remote to disengage the locks. I slid inside, pressing my head against the dashboard while tears poured out of me.
I shook violently, my body trying to rid itself of all the thoughts that included Kade Wilson.
“Oh God.” Brett croaked. “Sage, I’m sorry. You never have to talk about him again, okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
I knew without looking, Brett was crying too. Tears were clogged in his throat. It was evident in every word he spoke.
I lifted my head and wiped at my face. “Why do you guys want to know?”
“I don’t.” He shook his head quickly, tears falling down his face and getting stuck in his beard. “Not if it hurts you this bad. I don’t give a fuck. We don’t have to talk about that monster ever again, okay?”
I nodded, dropping my head to the window. I breathed through the knot in my chest until the burn in my eyes disappeared. The two sets of rough sobs turned into low sniffles after a long stretch of time.
My mind was still racing, my stomach still churning with guilt and disgust towards myself. I knew I was on the verge of vomiting at any moment. But when I opened my mouth to gag, something entirely different came out.
A confession.
“I think I’m grateful for him.” I blurted, looking straight ahead. “For Kade, I mean.” I focused on the man riding a bicycle across the street rather than the sharp intake of breath that came from between Brett’s teeth. “It’s not...” I shook my head, trying to navigate my thoughts. “I hate him, okay? This isn’t a case of Stockholm syndrome. I wasn’t in love with him. I didn’t beg to stay with him when the cops found me. But I also know that if it weren’t for him, his friends would have killed me. Or worse, put me in a crate and sent me to a prostitution ring overseas.”
Brett made a choking sound. More tears stained my cheeks but I trudged forward. I was sharing something, and it fucking sucked, but I was doing it.
“And it’s so fucking hard for me to cope with despising him but also being thankful for not using me as target practice. I just... I don’t understand, Brett! I don’t like any part of what’s happening in my fucked up brain. He did things to me, made me watch things that had me begging him to just shoot me and yet I can’t say that I hate him because I’m alive. And what the fuck does that say about me? Huh?!”
“I think it says you’re a better human than he was.” Brett threw his fist in the dashboard. “I think you hate him, I think you hate what he did to you, what he did to Trish. I think you hate him for making you contemplate taking your own life. You hate him for being evil. But you, Sage, you’re fucking good. You got me? You’re a good person. Those sixteen months? It did not cha
nge that. You have no evil in you. You can’t stand harboring hate. You never could. Our fights as kids lasted five minutes before you broke down crying because you hated being filled with anger.” He took a few long breaths, and I knew how bad he wanted to wrap me in a hug.
And as much as I loved my brother, I was thankful he didn’t.
“The good in you doesn’t want to hate him, Sage. You don’t want that extra weight pressing on your chest. Finding a reason to be thankful for him makes things easier for you.”
I gasped, expelling long, wheeze like breaths. Tears of shame turned into tears of relief as I clutched my chest and an ocean poured from my eyes. “You don’t think it makes me fucked up?”
“No, Sage. I do not, and would never, think of you as fucked up. I think you’re looking for a reason to be better than him. And showing him gratitude after all he put you through is your reason. You’re a good human, sis. And it’s okay to want to hate him. It is.”
I nodded rapidly, chanting his words over and over.
It’s okay.
It’s okay.
It’s okay.
Did wanting to give Kade some thanks for not offing me actually make me a good person? I had no flipping clue, but I believed Brett when he said it didn’t make me a bad one.
“What can I do to help, Sage?”
It was with that question I realized my breathing was still heavier and slower than it should’ve been. I was gulping for air as if I’d been underwater for a millennium and just breached the surface. I shook my head and closed my eyes, drawing in a breath for three seconds and letting it out for three more. I did that several times, attempting to find a happy place.
Julie encouraged me to find a place that calmed me. A place no one could touch or taint. A place that was just for me. One that brought me immeasurable amounts of peace.
I did not have a happy place. I knew that even as I’d searched hard for one. After all the times I’d done this, I knew this time would be no different.
Specter: Circuit Series Book One Page 10
