Page 106 of Strange Lad

“You smell good too. Like mystical vapors.”

He laughs so loud I feel it in my belly.

Oli

Brave

Dr. Langley looks both shocked and impressed.

He straightens in his chair, sets his notepad aside, and clasps his hands over his lap. I know I could’ve asked for an emergency appointment, which he reminded me of, but I’m glad I didn’t. I’ve had a full week to process everything since our last appointment. My temporary truce with Phoenix, Morgan harassing me at my work, this intimacy with Jorge—it was good of me to wait.

I told my therapist my rapist’s name, too.

I’ve never been able to cough it up before.

Maybe a part of me always knew that it wasn’t meant to be him that found out first. I trust Dr. Langley, but this broken part of me was never his to heal. Eli and I have been texting regularly as well. The way he was able to pull himself out of addiction and see his distorted reflection for himself has given me the courage to look at my own—really look at it.

Ultimately, it has to be me that fixes what was damaged. Or at least, I have to try. I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from my trauma or my vices; that’s just not realistic.

However, I am learning to allow myself some solace. I’m allowing myself to accept it happened, to admit it freely. And, fuck, it feels good to let it out. I’ve kept it in for so long that I was poisoning myself. No wonder I could never move forward, always stagnant and miserable. I’ve never been more grateful for this second chance at life.

“I know it goes without saying, but I’m proud of you, Oliver,” he tells me, offering a kind smile. “Do you plan on reporting Morgan?”

Hearing his name still makes me flinch, but I recover fast. “The statute of limitations—”

“Is irrelevant. You can still make a report. He could have other victims.”

“Would it…do you think it would help?” I ask. I’m not sure who it would help—myself or potentially others.

“I think it would. You’ve come a long way since our first session. Claiming that justice, however small, would be healthy and help you move forward. Don’t you agree?”

I think about it.

The idea that Morgan has done this to other people is horrible. My guts knot up instantly.

I’ve lived through his defilement—hiscruelty.I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, not even him. The damage done to me can never be repaired, and if someone else was a victim and my voice could help, I don’t think I’d be able to ignore that plea. What if my admission is the final nail in the coffin? The ammunition needed to take him down?

“I do,” I say. “How would I even do that, though? Just walk into a police station? His dad used to be the chief.”

Humming, my therapist grabs his laptop off his desk and opens it. “Let’s do some research, shall we?”

We spend the rest of my session looking into it, and the result shakes me to my very bones.

Turns out, as of January first of this year, California has eliminated the statute of limitations for childhood sexual abuse, which is what I classify as. I was fifteen. Until I’m forty, I can report what Morgan did to me. I can file a lawsuit, file a fucking police report—the whole nine yards. I’m nauseous, scared shitless, and clutching all the print-out papers Dr. Langley supplied for me as I leave his office.

When I get to my car, I carefully set the papers on the passenger seat and take a moment to breathe. I won’t file my report at the station Morgan’s dad used to work at—that’s just asking for trouble. So, I’ll have to go to one farther away and hope the cops at that one aren’t close with the dude.

One thing I know for certain is that I can’t do this alone. I’ll shut down and possibly come off like a psycho. Jorge will come with me; I know he will, but I need more than that.

God, I need my fucking parents.

I need my momma.

Swallowing an obscene amount of spit, I kill the engine and get out of my car.

Looking at my childhood home, I’m assaulted with endless memories. Some wonderful, some terrible, especially when I glance up. I tried to kill myself right inside that window. The death of my brotherhood with Phoenix happened in the room beside it. I’ve caused so much hurt to my family and kept them in the dark when it wasn’t their fault. God, what if they don’t forgive me? What if Dad tells me to fuck off and kicks me out before I even get a foot through the front door?

Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I steel myself and move.

---