therealtrash | Entries tagged with #oc

Chapter 2: Our little secret.

After three long weeks, Victor's second day of therapy arrived. He was already awake before his mother even called him; it seemed he couldn't sleep well at night. He lay there for a while, hugging a pillow, thinking about the story he needed to continue that day. He seemed somewhat nervous and with a weight on his chest, as if he were overexerting himself; it was difficult for him to continue with that story. But, after a few minutes thinking in bed, Victor got up and went to get dressed. Some time later, Victor and his mother were already in the waiting room of the office. He was wearing a long black button-down coat and black jeans, as well as some necklaces and his favorite boots, of course. His mother was sitting next to him, in her usual beige outfit, and the cross on her chest. She seemed increasingly upset each day with Victor's behavior and way to dress. After waiting uncomfortably beside his mother for a while, Victor was called in by his psychologist. He seemed relieved to finally leave the waiting room. This time, he walked directly into her office without even looking back. "Welcome back, Victor! What did you do this week?" the psychologist asks gently, as she sits in her chair. "I... didn't do anything special," Victor says in nonchalant tone, sitting in the patient's chair. "Hmm... and what exactly do you consider 'special'?" she asks, slowly trying to find an opening to access the deep feelings Victor still hid. "I... don't know... can we continue the story today? I still have a lot to tell you," Victor says, somewhat uncomfortable and confused by the question. "Of course! Go ahead, Victor, I'm listening." Well, where was I...? Oh, yeah! It was the part where he took me behind those bushes and trees. It turned out there was an abandoned, pretty quiet vacant lot there. There wasn't much vegetation in that area; it was just around in it. It wasn't a very big place either, but it was where the boy called "his safe space". There was also an abandoned trailer where he kept some things, away from home and his bullies. He told me to come closer, looked inside for a few minutes, and gave me some powder to cover my black eye and also some spray to use when my mother wasn't looking. He said I could keep them until I got better, since we had similar skin tones, so it worked well. I thanked him and asked if they were by a chance to help with the injuries the bullies used to inflict on him, and yeah, I already knew the answer... it was quite obvious. I felt a little sorry for him; it seemed he had been suffering aggressions for a long time and had also had many things stolen, which is why he always hid them in his underwear, and what he couldn't keep with him, he kept in that trailer. After applying the powder to my face, I asked if it had worked to disguise the black eye. He said it was almost imperceptible and even gave me a small pocket mirror so I could see. I felt relieved to see it worked. After that, I stayed there, looking at those things in the trailer for a while. It wasn't a small amount; he had been hiding his things there for quite some time. Then he asked me if I would tell anyone about his hiding place. He didn't seem very worried; it was as if he was already hopeless. I said no, why would I do that? He said he had already trusted some people who only wanted to take advantage of him, so he had even gotten used to looking for hiding places in case he lost that one again, since that had happened several times. It was almost a hobby for him, looking for a place where he felt safe. I couldn't say anything. I felt so sorry for that boy; at that moment, the relationship we were building was already irreversible. I couldn't just leave and forget what he did for me, even having to deal with so many horrible things in his life. I didn't want that; I wanted to know more about him. While I stood there, thinking about how sadly shocking that boy's reality was, he chuckled at my silence for so long. “You're kinda reserved, huh? I like that. You're different from most people I've met, if you'll allow me... I'd say you're as weird as I am. No offense, hah,” he said. He was teasing me, but not in an annoying way; it was more... in a friendly way. I just replied, “Yeah... you might be right. I don't have any friends either.” He was already giving me a gap of his trust, just by sitting in that trailer, looking at me with a quirky smile. He was definitely one of the most unique people I'd ever met. I wish the world had more people like him... Then he laughed at me again for having another one of those random moments of reflection. He had a rather laid-back vibe, I never knew how. He asked me if I wanted to leave already, and I said no. If he let me, I'd like to stay a little longer. He simply said, "Sure, dude! Whatever." And I sat on the floor, still not knowing what to do. Then we started bringing up random topics, like, "What an awkward day, huh?" "Yeah, you're right." He had shoulder-length hair, dyed in two different colors. It never ceased to fascinate me. So, I tried to bring this up. "I... I liked your hair, did you have trouble dyeing it? Like... your parents didn't mind?" I asked. "My parents never mind anything I do," he replied so calmly that it surprised me. "Wow... that must be really cool." "Yeah, it must be..." "...but it doesn't seem cool to you..." "Yeah, isn't." That was one of the many weird conversations we had. “What’s your name, boy from Albert Kenny High School?” I asked. “Ethan. What about you?” he replied calmly and asked me back. “I’m Victor.” “Cool name.” “Thank you…” It was pretty obvious he wasn't having a very good time in school, but I was so curious about his school that I couldn’t resist asking. “I’m from Patrick Morson High School, but I’m still a newbie there. I’ve never set foot in your school, how's in there?” I asked him. “A shit,” he replied, more directly and curtly than I expected. “Oh, well… I kinda expected that…” Then he started yapping about everything he hated about school. "Lunch is fucking expensive and you rarely find anything that makes you full. The bathrooms are always dirty, with the most disgusting atrocities scribbled on the walls and stalls. It always smells like piss and shit cause some of the toilets flushs just have been broken for years. The classroom chairs aren't durable, much less comfortable, and everyone I met there is a complete stupid motherfucker." He said it straight up, in the most sincere tone I'd ever heard. "Well... it's a little early to judge mine, but I think it's not very different from yours..." "Then we're in this together, brother. At least you don't get beaten up every day, guess so..." I felt a little bad for asking about his school. He didn't seem as calm as before; I think he was having some bad memories. So I decided to change the subject. "What do you like to do in your free time...?" I asked. "Well, luckily or unluckily, I study in the morning, so I have the whole afternoon free to kill time when I don't have homework. I usually explore the streets when I know I'm safe from those jerks. I also like to spend my money on junk, skateboard and climb trees. Just bum stuff, but yeah, it's fun." I had one more thing in common with him. He looked a lot like me, only a little more carefree with everything. “Hey, those are pretty cool hobbies. It’s similar to the things I like to do in my free time too,” I said. “For real… so, want to practice skate with me? I have another one in the trailer. I just don’t have the helmet, or the elbow pads, or the knee ones… but I’ve never really needed them.” “Well… I’ve never tried skateboarding… but you know, whatever! I’ll try it today.” I was very nervous, but also a little excited, because, looking at Ethan’s face, he seemed excited too. Then he went to the trailer, told me to wait a minute, and brought me a really cool red and black skateboard with a crow drawn on the back. “Oh, crap! I never imagined… being someone’s teacher. That's so stupid, haha!” "Okay, listen. You better be a little careful the first time, not only because I don't have the protective things, but also because this skate is a bit worn. Actually, this is the one I usually use, but since I have more experience, the more worn one stays with me, and you get this one." He was so kind to me, for some reason... even though we had only talked for a while. I asked why, and he just said he was preventing me from having more chances of falling off the skate and going home with more injuries. That made sense, since he was the one who gave me the spray, and I knew he would need it soon... Well... I did fall off the skate a few times, but it could have been worse. After about 20 minutes, I stopped. Yeah... I wasn't used to skateboarding. "What? Already!? Hmm, it's not like I was expecting you to be super dedicated anyway, so... whatever." He told me, straight up again. I didn't answer anything; my body was still recovering from the adrenaline rush I hadn't experienced in many time. Then he just went to the trailer and left me sitting on the ground. I was a little confused, even embarrassed. I thought he had finally realized how weird it was to talk to a stranger he had just met and who had gone to do his thing alone. But a while later, I realized he was just eating. He came out of the trailer with a bag of chips. "Want some?" he asked, holding out the bag to me. "Um... is this expired by any chance?" I asked, but, in my defense, I didn't know how often he replaced things in that trailer. "Of course not, do you think I'm an idiot?" Yeah, that answer made me blush with shame; it sounded very rude of me... "Ok... I guess I won't refuse free food." I took some and we ate together. It was still strange for me to understand how I had gotten involved with a boy I didn't even know. “Victor… don’t you feel like hitting me?” he asked, shifting to a serious but still indifferent tone. This disturbed me a little… I was shocked, I hadn’t expected that question. “What…? No. Why… why did you ask that?” I said, completely unsure what to do. What does one do in a situation like that? Of course, my answer would be “no,” but the mere fact of having to hear and respond to that already disturbed me. “I don’t know. Most people do,” he said, still seeming indifferent and somehow surprised by my answer. “That… that’s sick! If I had any desire to hurt you, why would I try to push those bullies away?” “I don’t know. I never know anything, Victor. I never know why things happen. I don’t know why I get beaten up, I don’t even know why this conversation is happening. I don’t know why you’re still here with me.” He answered, and that answer was one of the most honest I’ve ever heard. Why do things happen the way they do? I don't know. He didn't know. I still don't know how to give him a proper answer. This is what I said: “I don't know either… Does there have to be an answer? It seems like some things… just happen. I don't know, Ethan. I don't know either…” “…I like you, Victor. You have the same troubled and stupid mind as me. I can't even believe… that you're real.” Then I said: “Dude… you took the words out of my mouth!” Then he started laughing, as if he had just heard the funniest joke of his life. Ethan was always difficult to understand, but also so relatable… "That's... that's awesome! I always love hearing your stories, they always surprise me. You were so sincere in your answer, Victor. I don't think there was a better answer to give Ethan," says the psychologist, finishing writing on her clipboard. "Yeah... I guess so..." says Victor, looking a little sad, as if that conversation had consumed all his energy. "Here, Victor! I'm looking forward to hearing more about this story, see you soon," says the psychologist as she hands Victor the paper with the date of the next session. "Um... Oh, yes, see you soon too," says Victor, taking the paper and walking towards the door. "Take care and have a good rest of the day, Victor." "...Thank you." He turns the doorknob and leaves the room, ending his second day of therapy there.

Chapter 1: The roots of the traumas.

One random Tuesday, in the psychologist's waiting room, sat a teenager wearing heavy, high-top boots, a black shirt, a jacket, and dyed hair. Next to him was his mother, who seemed to be his complete opposite. Bob cut, naturally brown hair, cat-eye glasses, a long-sleeved blouse that went up to her neck, a patterned skirt, a cross on her chest, and many tones of beige. They both seemed upset and distant, not even looking each other in the eye. The mother was bothered by her son's recent behavior, which she considered "demonic," and had therefore forced him to go to a consultation. While waiting, the boy seemed to grow increasingly irritated. He reached into his pocket to fiddle with his cell phone and distract himself, but his mother immediately stopped him. This made him even angrier, but luckily, a few minutes later, the psychologist called him in. He stood up from his chair, maintaining the typical posture of a hard to lead teenager, but also sweating with nervousness. Then he looked back at his mother, and she was already glaring at him, as if to say, "Go already, or we'll have a talk at home!" So he finally followed the psychologist and went to her office. When the boy entered the psychologist's office, he immediately assumed a neutral posture to show that he was okay and knew how to deal with his feelings. He sat down with his legs together and his gaze downcast, avoiding eye contact. "Hello, Victor, my name is Lauren! How are you doing? It's a pleasure to finally meet you," asked the kind and friendly psychologist. "...You already know my name?" he asked, a little confused, since it was his first day at the office. "Yes, I do! I know the names of all my patients. So, Victor, what brings you here today?" she asked again, maintaining her friendly posture. "My mom," he replied, directly and curtly. "Oh, I see. Actually, your mother commented on some things about your behavior. Well, would you like to talk about it?" "...Not exactly, but I'd like to know what she told you," he replied, showing some discomfort. "Okay, just a second," said the doctor as she searched for a folder in the drawer. "Here! Well, let's see... Well, Victor, your mother reported that you've been doing rather poorly in school lately and have also become a bit aggressive, according to her. She also said that you're having trouble waking up, going to school, showering, and doing your tasks. Another thing she mentioned is the fact that you became like this was because there was a boy who used to show up at your door almost every day, and suddenly you just stopped talking to him. Do you... want to comment on this?" she asks gently, trying not to be too intrusive in Victor's first therapy session. "She said that...? Of course she did! I'm surprised she didn't mention that one thing..." says Victor, looking even more uncomfortable and somewhat irritated. “Well, do you want to talk about this ‘thing’?” she asks. Victor remains silent, looking nervous and growing increasingly uncomfortable, until his neutral expression begins to change out of his control, and a few tears escape. “Oh, I’m sorry! We don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to…” the psychologist says emphatically, giving Victor time to feel and express his feelings amidst the tears. “…I…I don’t really want to…but I feel I need to. Because…no one remembered him, and those who still remember him, besides me, don’t think of him with the same eyes as I do,” Victor says in a low voice, trying to compose himself. "Are you talking about the boy your mother mentioned...? Did something happen?" the psychologist asks. "...to get to that point, I first need to go back in time... only then will you understand. If you don't mind... it's a long story..." Victor says, in a low, hesitant tone, as if what he's about to tell is truly very difficult. "That's alright, we have time. You can tell me whatever you want, I'm here for that," says the psychologist, maintaining her patient and empathetic posture. "Well... it all started about two years ago... I had just transferred to a new school. It was kinda far from home, but I tried my best to go every day. But one day, I was too late and couldn't get there before the gate closed. I was kinda upset, but I thought with myself, 'Well, that's life! What can I do?' and I started walking back home." On my way, I passed another school. I studied in the afternoon, and by the time I should be in mine, the morning students from that school were leaving. Most had already gone, actually. Then, I heard some low shouts coming from nearby, enough to make me stop and see what was happening. That's when I found him, the boy, being bullied by two bigger guys. I knew they were from that school when I saw their uniforms, and I felt uncomfortable just standing there watching him get kicked and punched in the stomach and face. So, I decided to play the hero, which was partly a bad idea because I ended up with a black eye, but it was also there that... I met the one who would be my first and only true friend. The guys laughed in my face after punching me and seemed to get tired of torturing the poor boy, so they simply left as if nothing had happened. I asked him if he was okay, he seemed a little embarrassed and still in pain, but he said "yes." Then I started walking home again. But suddenly, he stopped me again. The boy who had been bullied came running up to me and asked me to stop for a moment. I was a little confused and asked what he wanted. I think I was a little cold towards him... He thanked me for at least trying to protect him. I said it was okay, and he started walking with me. It was kinda weird at first, until he asked how I was, if my eye hurt. I said not too much, and he seemed kinda relieved. I asked if he was also going home or if he was going to stop at a pharmacy or something. He said he was fine, that he was used to being bullied by other students. But he also said he wasn't going home, he was just going to walk until he found a place where he felt comfortable enough to relax a bit. I wasn't paying much attention to my way home or what was happening; I just asked him why he didn't go home and tell his parents he'd been beaten up. He didn't seem too worried about it, saying his parents weren't either. That's when I realized that this boy was living a peculiar reality. He was so affected by the bullying that he'd gotten used to it. At that point, it wasn't a big deal in his life, just another day. Many things I could have said to him went through my head at that instant, but I ended up staying silent. We continued walking along the same path, without looking at each other or saying anything; it was such a akward situation, I didn't even know why it was happening. Then, at a certain point, I became completely distracted from the way home and got lost. I didn't know that neighborhood well, so I panicked. My cell phone died, and the only thing that came to mind was to ask if he could help me. I swear, that boy lived in a reality I never imagined witnessing one day. When I asked for help finding my way back home, he simply put his hand in his pants and took out his cell phone to check the location. I was shocked by what I saw: he hadn't taken it out of his pocket; it was literally inside his pants. It turns out he always wore baggy, long pants that didn't make it clear what he was hiding there. Because of the bullies he suffered, he stopped keeping things in his pockets and started hiding them in his underwear. Yes, I made an expression of disgust and shock at the same time. Then he explained to me that he wore two layers of underwear and kept his belongings in the first layer, which did not have direct contact with his body. This is still one of the most surprising things I've ever seen in my life. I don't even know how he managed to walk around with a second layer of underwear full of things like his wallet and cell phone. But, yeah, I think I went on too long talking about his underwear, I-I'm sorry... Anyway, I told him where I lived and he offered to walk me home, showing me the way so I wouldn't get lost again. I accepted without hesitation. I mean, it wasn't like he wasn't already following me. I never imagined our paths would cross, but honestly, I can say now that I don't regret it. Then, at a certain point, I stopped for a bit during the walk home and realized I'd already missed class anyway, so why waste that free time coming home early? If my mother saw me arrive early, she'd be angry and complain for hours about how I can't do simple tasks like go to school on time. And even worse, seeing me come home from school with a black eye... She'd become a demon. So, I sat down on the sidewalk, on a deserted street. The boy seemed a little confused, sat down next to me, and asked if I didn't wanted his help anymore. I explained the situation, said I didn't know what to do. I didn't have any money to buy something to cover my black eye and I didn't want to spend the rest of the day listening to complaints. I didn't mention this, but sometimes he didn't even seem real. He was so calm and relaxed in the way he spoke, even having to endure that life. He also had a cute face. Well, I mean... he had long eyelashes and big brown eyes. I know they're the most common and generally not as appreciated as blue and green, but I always found that type of dark brown eye such a beauty... Well, he looked at me and I got lost for a second, observing his features. He left me a little confused about my sexuality. I mean... all my life, up until that moment, I'd had crushes on girls, but now I was feeling something I thought I shouldn't. Well... I was raised in a very Catholic and conservative family, so I was taught, as a boy, that I should desire to have a wife and children. I never really wanted to get married, much less have children... It was just a passing feeling, it passed very quickly. But it was enough to bother me and make me feel ashamed. And... Well... Continuing, he seemed a little apprehensive about what he was going to tell me, but he turned to me and said low, "Listen... I have a secret place you might want to see. It might have something that can help with your hurt eye." I was a little confused, but, well, I didn't know what to do to help myself in that situation, so I asked him where and what that place was. He held my hand, which was another weird moment. His hands were kinda sweaty, but I think it was because he was wearing a hoodie on a sunny day. Anyway, he took me to a place, a few streets away from where we were, and brought me to a place covered in bushes and undergrowth. There was a scaring number of insects, like mosquitoes and ants, as is common in places with dense vegetation. Confused, I asked him what he wanted to do in a place like that, and he asked if I knew how to jump. I said yes, still not understanding where he was going with this. Then he climbed a tall tree and told me to go with him. At that moment, I almost regretted agreeing to it, but I climbed that tree and was surprised by what was behind there... "Well, I'm really invested in your story, Victor! And I'm very proud of you for being able to tell me so much in our first session. But, unfortunately, our time is up for today. We can continue in the next session, in three weeks. I hope you can tell me more about this young man; it seems you have a lot of affection for him, and I really want to know how this relationship began," says the psychologist, attentive to every detail of Victor's story and finishing noting down the day's part on her clipboard. "Well... it seems I end up... talking too much when it comes about him," says Victor, somewhat embarrassed, looking away and holding his arm, now a little more comfortable and easier to lead. But still remaining hesitant to talk about his deepest feelings. "No problem! That's what therapy is for. Here! I loved meeting you, Victor, and I hope that any struggles you're facing in your life will be resolved soon," says the psychologist as she hands Victor a piece of paper with the new date for his next session. "Hm... Thank you," says Victor, still a little awkwardly, as he takes the paper and walks towards the door. "See you soon, Victor!" "Yeah... see you soon too." He turns the doorknob and leaves the office, ending his first day of therapy.

I'm gonna start posting a story I'm writing. This story is completely improvised; I didn't plan to write it. I'm just writing it as a way to cope with my sttrugles in understanding certain feelings. This story will focus on dealing with grief, understanding, and trying to express complex feelings. I don't know how long it will take, and I'll only be posting it here. Yes, it will be a ficction history with ficctional characters, but with some real elements.