Hi all! Some of you may notice a change in a few chapter titles. None of the text is changed, but I discovered that one of my files was mislabeled. It made no difference if you read the story in chapter order because the chapters are out of sequence. But, if you read the story in Piece order, the error created a small spoiler. It's fixed now.
I hope the three people reading this in Korea, Saudi Arabia, and Spain are enjoying it. I think you might be my only fans! If anyone else is out there, just a reminder that comments keep writers motivated. Even one word let's me know your reading with me. I won't hold posting hostage to reviews, however; this story, I post the next chapter every time I see activity on the last chapter.
Ok, that's all for now! Later! SJ
Chapter 34, Piece 31 * * * * * * * *
I woke up in a cold sweat. Again. That was a bad night, but not the worst. On the worst, I literally woke up screaming loud enough to wake the house.
When asked, I claimed that I could never remember the actual dreams; the doctors told me the condition was called 'night terrors' and eventually it would go away.
As a point of fact, I do remember the dreams - at least the general storyline. The doctors mean well, but there are some things that should not be shared.
Especially with my brother.
So long as Mokuba was part of my medical team, there would be some issues I would have to resolve on my own. I was confident that there was nothing in my own mind that I could not come to terms with. Eventually.
The dreams were one of those issues. They were vague, more impressions and emotions than images. They seemed to involve sexual, physical and emotional abuse. My brother already had too much exposure to my traumas. He didn't need further guilt. There's nothing he could have done about the abuses I suffered, and even less he could do about the memory fragments floating in my head.
In the dreams, I was usually cowering on the floor. Usually, someone was yelling. Sometimes they told me to stop crying, to enjoy what was happening. Sometimes they threatened to beat me, to kill me. Other times, they told me I was stupid and worthless, useless. On bad nights, I knew I was being violated - although I could never clearly see how - and I hated myself for allowing it to happen.
Some nights it was worse - I did enjoy it. Moreover, I wanted it. A sexual fantasy seemed to be somehow entwined with the abuse and I was ashamed of my body's betrayal.
On the worst nights, I was the violator. I was the one yelling cruel words. I was the villain in my own nightmares.
From what Mokuba had told me, and from the lack of friends in my life, I gathered that it was more likely that I was the villain. Apart from a few charitable gifts, I could not find any sign of kindness in the man I had been. That frightened me. Papa had been very kind. He believed a man should be judged by how kind he was.
Was I a man Papa would have liked?
I didn't think so, and as much as the dreams scared me at night, the idea that Papa would have been disappointed in me terrified me by day.
I got up and washed my face. The dream was beginning to fade, leaving only the feeling that I deserved to be punished and the frustration of not understanding why.
I need to understand why, I determined. I looked at myself in the mirror. Who was this man? Was he the perfect brother Mokuba described? The victim I see in my dreams? The ruthless businessman I read about in the press? All of them? None?
Mokuba had told me everything he could. I needed to find someone who knew me before the accident - preferably someone my own age. The obvious answer was Mokuba's friend Mutou-kun.
Mutou and the staff of his manga apparently went to school with me. We weren't close, but they must have known something about me. I needed to find a way to spend time with them.
And I needed to go on a date. Part of what made the dreams so distressing was not knowing my own sexuality. Maybe if I had a positive sexual experience, I would be able to tease apart the memories from the trauma.
And maybe get some sleep.