Page 18 of Dragon's Revenge

“Sorry, I was?—”

“You had a flashback,” Delton said softly.

“I can’t tell you.”

Delton squeezed his hand. “I don’t want you to talk about it. In this phase, talking will only make it worse.”

Oh. Delton had mentioned that before, but Oliver had thought the beta only said that ‘cause he didn’t want to scare Oliver. “Then how…?”

Delton took both his hands. “Honey, you have PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s a well-known reaction to severe trauma, and many of you suffer from it.”

Oliver nodded, tears filling his eyes. He’d known it. Of course he had. He wasn’t stupid. But like with so many things, he’d figured he’d try denying it as long as he could because the alternative was admitting that he was…crazy? Damaged. Broken.

“I’m gonna be honest with you. Few people completely recover from it. For most, it will always be a part of them. But they learn to manage it, to not let it rule their lives.”

“Is that hard?”

“Yes. It’s a challenge for someone with as complicated a trauma as you have. It’s easier if it’s a one-time event, like surviving a car accident or getting assaulted once. Your trauma was repeated, varied in intensity and situations, and took place over a long period of time. From what I’ve heard, one could even argue your entire life up until you arrived here was traumatic. That makes it much more difficult to learn to deal with it.”

“B-but I’ve been fine so far.”

Delton slowly shook his head. “No, honey, you haven’t been. You’ve been in denial. You’ve been numb. And both are understandable and valid reactions, but you can only keep them up for so long.”

Tears trickled down Oliver’s face. “I don’t want to be broken…”

“I know, honey. No one does. But you’re not broken. You’re a survivor and one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

“How?”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?”

He was, and yes, sometimes he realized what a miracle that was. Oh, he’d contemplated taking his own life, but something had always held him back. Knowing how much it would hurt Fallon. Fear of what he’d encounter in the afterlife. And even after all that time, the inexplicable hope that things would get better. No matter how bad things had gotten, that spark of hope had never been extinguished. As if he’d somehow known he’d be offered a way out.

“How do I…?” He swallowed. “How do I live with this? With PTSD?”

“We start by trying to figure out what triggers you, and then we come up with techniques that will help you. When you had your flashback, what came first? Was it a sound, a sensation, something visual, or?—”

“Sweat.” Oliver gagged.

Delton squeezed his hands. “Stay with me, honey. You’re safe with me.”

He was safe. How many times would he have to tell himself that?

“Tell me a scent you love, one that you associate with something positive.”

“Flowers. I love the smell of flowers.”

“Okay, good. So what we’ll do is we’ll make a little pouch you can carry with you, and we’ll put some dried flowers in there, maybe find a perfume or some essential oils with a strong flower scent. And then, whenever you get triggered, you can use that to bring yourself back. It’s called grounding.”

Something that simple could work? “That’s it?”

Delton smiled at him, then cupped his cheek in a way that made Oliver feel deeply seen. “No, but it’s a start. I’m so honored you’re asking me to help you.”

“I trust you.”

Now that he’d said the words, he realized how deeply true they were. He really did trust Delton, even after everything that had happened between them.

“I’m glad our personal…challenges haven’t changed that,” Delton said softly.

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