Mind Over Matter

Mind Over Matter

Status: Finished

Genre: Gay and Lesbian

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Gay and Lesbian

Summary

No one would believe Braden Anderson if he told the truth about his stepfather, Richard. The truth, that Richard had been raping him for months, selling him off to strangers, beating him when Braden wouldn't comply. After all, that's what landed him in the hospital in the first place. No, no. That can't be what happened. Can it? *I put this in Gay and Lesbian for the homosexual undertones and themes. Trigger warning for the entire novel*

Summary

No one would believe Braden Anderson if he told the truth about his stepfather, Richard. The truth, that Richard had been raping him for months, selling him off to strangers, beating him when Braden wouldn't comply. After all, that's what landed him in the hospital in the first place.
No, no. That can't be what happened.
Can it?
*I put this in Gay and Lesbian for the homosexual undertones and themes. Trigger warning for the entire novel*

Chapter1 (v.1) - Mind Over Matter

Author Chapter Note

Braden can't keep everything inside anymore. He's afraid he will burst with the pain of keeping his family's secrets. But will telling all really bring all the relief he needs? *I put this in Gay and Lesbian for the homosexual undertones and themes. Trigger warning for the entire novel*

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 05, 2013

Reads: 2349

Comments: 7

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 05, 2013

A A A

A A A

Patient Intake Form

James Watson Hospital, Richmond VA

 

NAME: Anderson, Braden N.

DOB:October 15, 1997

AGE:16

ADMITTED:  July 25, 2013

REASON FOR ADMITTANCE: PTSD/Depression. Generalized anxiety disorder and self-harming tendencies. Suicide attempt. Possible result of physical/sexual abuse by step-father. High risk.

1. Drug/alcohol use in the last 6 mo? Yes.

2. Sexual activity in the last 6 mo? Yes.

3. Attending school? No.

4. Suicide risk? Yes.

5. Other information? Evidence collection (rape kit) completed as of 7/24/13.

 

CASE ASSIGNMENT: Dr. Lindy A. Grayson, M.D

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

C H A P T E R  ONE:

 

The doctor says I probably have to stay in here for a while and I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel about that. I don’t like being in here but then again, home isn’t really a viable option right now, either. Not when I don’t know what’s going on with Richard.

I mean, like, I know he’s probably not home. Or, I know he’s not home. I saw that happen on the TV. It’s on all the news stations and why shouldn’t it be? I’ve seen all the headlines and I’m starting to wonder if there’s a person around who’s hadn’t. Teen Sex Ring. Allegations Arise In The Anderson Case. Sexual Assault Of A Minor in Virginia Residence. Attempted Suicide Prompted Police In Investigation of Anderson Case. Justice for Braden? The Shocking Story of Survival.

Dr. Grayson says to ignore them. She tells me something about how they might be “triggering” me. But I know even she reads them. Sometimes, I see them underneath her purse in her office when I go to my visits once every other day. I don’t exactly know what she means by triggering but I know that when I see Richard’s face on the TV screen in the common room that my stomach turns to ice and sometimes I can’t breathe. Usually, when that happens, Emily has to open my orange bottle of Xanax for me because I’m shaking so badly that I can’t do it myself. She hands them to me with a pitiful smile and hugs a gross pillow on the couch next to us while Zach changes the channel.

“You okay, man?” he offers as he turns on SpongeBob. It’s something nonthreatening that all of us can watch. Nothing crime related. None of our abusers flash on the screen. No one is raped. It’s like a perfect world.

“Yeah, I’m good.” And then we’d go outside to the basketball courts and smoke forbidden cigarettes with Sara and Natalie.

Welcome to the club no one wants to be in.

Zach hands me one and looks around to see if anyone is watching. He pulls a black Bic lighter from his jeans pocket and flicks it three times before it lights. We can’t have these but no one really seems to mind—as long as we’re not burning ourselves with them. They don’t have to worry about that with me, I guess. I was never one for burning. But they can’t trust me around a razor. Every time I have to shave, someone is on duty, watching me.

I’ve been in here three weeks and already it seems like it’s been years. Zach and Natalie have been here the longest, almost three months. Then Emily who got here two weeks before me. Sara came two days after I was admitted. We’ve all got that one thing in common, even though the stories vary. Some fucker got their hands on us in what our parents used to call our “no-no zones.” All of them went further than touching, too. In fact, that was something we all sort of bonded over, as strange as it sounds. I can’t tell if I’m comforted in knowing that I’m not alone in this, or more upset by the fact that it happened to them, too.

That was how Zach Vasquez and I first introduced ourselves. He walked out of his room as I was walking to mine on the first day here. With his military short dark hair and buff frame, I wasn’t expecting what he told me.

“What are you here for?”

It was like jail or something.

“My uncle raped me for three years. I went off the deep end and my parents sent me here. Well, after my dad beat the shit out of him.” He leaned on the doorframe and jutted his jaw out at me, who stood, shocked, staring at him. “You?”

All of us, we’ve only known each other for a short time, but we probably all know more about each other than our best friends on the outside.

Thank you, group therapy.

“What do you think happens after you die?” Natalie asks suddenly, exhaling her smoke and staring at her chipped nail polish. Emily pretends not to hear as she draws her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She doesn’t smoke, but sits outside with us anyway. Probably because it’s lonely as hell anywhere else.

“What a cliché.” Zach laughed. “I dunno. I guess it depends on what you did in your life. Like if you were a good person.”

“Good.” Natalie scoffs. “Then I hope John gets, like, a flaming hot poker rammed up his ass for all eternity.”

Natalie seems to be the one who’s the most angry about what happened, and that’s even including Zach. John was her older boyfriend. Except older as in forty when Natalie was thirteen. According to her, it was fun at first when it seemed exciting because he drove a nice car and had lots of money. But then he started wanting to do things and if she said no, he just hit her until she said yes.

To me, he sort of sounds like Richard. But not.

“Sara’s gotta be happy about that already, huh?”

“Stop it.” Sara said quietly, inhaling on the cigarette. Natalie laughed again and nudged her shoulder.

“Come on. The bastard raped you.”

“He’s still my dad, okay?”

Was your dad. Was.”

“Nat.” Sara almost pleaded. She had said once in group that she couldn’t remember a time when her dad wasn’t touching her up until the cancer took him a year ago. Sara said that at his funeral, she didn’t cry, but she looked in the casket to make sure he was dead and wasn’t going to touch her any more. She was glad that he died but hated herself for admitting it.

That was when I told her that I lost my dad to cancer, too, but that was how I got stuck with Richard.

She apologized.

I never said it was okay because it wasn’t.

“Lay off, Natalie, okay? Leave her alone.” Zach said sternly. There was a pause where Nat shook her head and stubbed out her cigarette before standing up.

“Fine. All I’m saying was that if the dick who raped me died, I’d throw a party.” Then, she was up and the metal door snapped shut behind her. For a while, the four of us watched the other patients toss a basketball around. No one made any shots they threw but they didn’t seem to care much about that.

I thought about that a lot, though. About Richard dying. I used to wish him dead when he would slip into my room at night, slide his hand down the front of my boxers. I used to want to kill him myself every time he whispered, “Wanna have some fun?” into my ear. When he would pin my hips down, seal his lips over mine or just slap a hand over my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I used to just imagine the worst thing that could ever happen to someone on him. The only thing was, the worst thing that could’ve ever happen to someone was what he was doing to me under the comforter.

Because I was a guy, I was supposed to fight back. But every time I did, he’d get pissed and hit me. Hard, too, might I add. I was old enough to know better, everyone says. How could I let him do those things to me? The doctor says that freezing up like I did or just lying there doesn’t mean that I didn’t want it.

I used to think that. But sometimes it didn’t hurt and then that’s where it got confusing.

“Come on, Em. Let’s see if there’s anything on HBO.”  Sara muttered, standing and flicking what was left of her cigarette behind her. Emily stood and waved halfheartedly to us.

“See you inside.” Emily said.

We sat in silence for a good long while. Long enough for my cigarette to die, leaving me no choice but to stub it out. I watched some birds wrestle over a French fry past the gates and couldn’t help but wonder why it was even there to begin with. To keep us in? To keep everyone else out? Who’s protection was it for—us or them?

“You know,” Zach said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I sort of hope Natalie is right. I want Charlie to pay for what he did. God knows he won’t with the law.”

The trial for his case had been going on lately, only it was mine that made the front page because of the “heinousness” of it. Either way, rape cases were notorious for not going well and judging by the look on Zach’s face, his wasn’t any different. “Trial isn’t heading off right?” I asked him, already knowing the answer.

He couldn’t look at me. Instead, he was pretending that I wasn’t there as he took a long pull on his cigarette. “Shit, no. Does it ever? He got six months behind bars and one year probation.”

“At least he got something.” I added feebly. Nat’s ex-boyfriend got nothing. He walked and I had never seen her more pissed off than when someone reminds her of that sad fact.

Then, Zach laughed. “Yeah. It’s something. But my dad got more time for beating the hell out of him. Assault. Year in jail. Third time in there.” He continued before his eyes started to mist and he rubbed them angrily. I didn’t blame him if he started crying. Hell, I did it enough as it was happening and even after. But I could still see why he wouldn’t want to be so public about it or anything. “The judge said that there wasn’t enough physical evidence to convict him. Even though he admitted it. Fucking bastard.”

“I’m really sorry, Zach.” And it was true. I was sorry. Nothing like that should’ve happened but the law is always so pressed about physical evidence. Presence of semen. A lot of bruises. More cuts on the inside—proof that something ripped through you.

“Yeah, well, the same thing is probably going to happen with your case too. Don’t think that just because it’s so publicized that Richard’s actually going to do a lot of time. Especially because you’re rich. And white.”

I didn’t say anything to that mostly because tears were unabashedly rolling down his cheeks by this point. He was probably saying it out of anger. But even still, there was the thought constantly running through my mind that he was right. That Richard wouldn’t do any time because of the paring of good lawyers and my rape kit being done too late. I didn’t want to testify for that exact reason. My lawyer already told me that they’re going to try to ruin my credibility. Make me look weak. Or that I’m lying. That I asked for everything. Spoiled, rich, white guy.

“But Emily’s case—”

“Emily was gang raped. On camera. The only reason why there was a conviction was because there was a tape. Even still, those guys only got a year in juvie. Hardly good enough.”

That much was true. Richard had taken pictures of me. But never anything being done. Just in various states of undress. I looked that up a while ago. He could only get about six months for that. I wanted to go back inside. Or home. Or just back to before any of this happened. When I was a virgin and rape was something that happened to girls who weren’t careful. But I know better now and I can never go back to that again, ever.

We were both quiet again as Zach struggled to light another cigarette and control his tears. He took a long drag and held it inside like the secret of what was really happening in his bedroom for all those years. “It’s weird to think that the only ones doing a life sentence is us.”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…you know. Freak you out or piss you off or something. I’m just…” he sighed. Stuck the cigarette back in his mouth. “Sorry.” He tried again.

“It’s fine.” I told him.

It was fine because he just gave a voice to pretty much everything I was thinking anyway. And he was right. We all are going to do a life sentence. At least, I will. I will never forget the feeling of his hands all over me and of the splitting pain of him in me. I’ll never forget the sound of his voice or the heat of his breath against my neck.

I wanted to never think of it again, but I knew that wasn’t an option.

“You know what we all should’ve done?”

“What?”

“Killed our rapists.” Zach said before stubbing out his cigarette and heading back inside leaving me by myself.


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