Hanna hated being a victim.
She hated the pitying looks people gave you, the way they treated you like a child, the way they walked around any and all things that could be triggering. She understood it - it was only natural and she knew she looked pathetic sometimes but she hated it.
No one needed to know what she had been through and no one needed to treat her like she would smash into a million pieces - it was none of their business.
It was the worst when people she didn't know recognized her. They would squint at her when she came in the room, cogs running behind their eyes. The double when she said her name was the most obvious tell. Then throughout her time with them, she's constantly overshadowed by something she already has to think about more than she wants to and that isn't in her control.
If she's really unlucky they'll be daring and ask if they know her from somewhere. They'll have an inkling of an idea, maybe a snapshot of an article where her gaunt and shocked face from the dollhouse will assault them or they saw her on the news for one of the many murder trials A set up for her. And no matter how hard she tried it's still the first thing that comes up when you google her.
So they ask and then she has to tell them that they've probably read an article about her somewhere, give a brief explanation that she went through some shit when she was in high school and hope they move on from it.
Because if there's something she hates even more than being the victim it's telling lies. She is so over telling lies.
Maybe that's why she one day has the urge to talk to Caleb about it all. It was three years after it was done for good this time. (But they said that last time and now she feels she'll never be able to escape it)
Caleb supported her through all of it. All the therapy sessions, the nightmares, the moments when flashbacks haunted her, but she had never discussed everything that had happened with him. It hurt too much to believe he might look at her differently knowing what had happened.
Part of her understood he knew a lot of the shit that happened to her in the dollhouse because she had discussed it with her mom and the other girls had told their partners who would have told Caleb. But he had never heard it from her, only bits and pieces in ramblings.
It dawned on her when she was tucking Aiden into bed. The small boy had been stubbornly whining about going to bed for hours well over his bedtime until he tired himself out and collapsed, drifting off as soon as Hanna brought the blanket up to his chest.
She would protect him from anything no matter how stubborn he was about her helping. The look in Caleb's eyes matched her own and it didn't dwindle when they flickered to her. It was then that she felt the sudden urge to talk, to explain, and to put his mind at ease.
"He definitely inherited my stubbornness," she said, tucking a strand of brown curly hair behind his ear.
"I'll be the one teaching him when to wash the dishes," Caleb said, standing up and brushing his hand through her hair. "I have enough of that from you."
Hanna looked down and blushed, leaning into his touch like a kitten.
Suddenly, she looked up, and before the words could get stuck in her throat and she would lose the opportunity forever she opened her mouth. "Can I talk to you about something?"
Caleb retracted his hand and he was trying his best to keep his face neutral. She really didn't mean to scare him but it wasn't her fault this concept made her heart tremble and her words slur.
He looked over at their sleeping son and then at the door. "Yeah, sure what do you want to talk about?" He crossed his arms and to stop herself from feeling like she was being interrogated Hanna stood up.
"I know it's been years and maybe I shouldn't even be thinking about this anymore. I mean, you probably know all of it anyway or have guessed most of it." She took a breath and Caleb reached out one of his folded arms to her. "But I guess I just wanted to talk because right now I am sick of ignoring it and pretending that I'm fine about everything all the time."
He placed his other hand down and rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, keeping her trembling hands in place. "Sure, whatever you need," he said.
Hanna looked over to her son - he smiled in his sleep and he would be oblivious to the world around him but she slowly ducked her head and pulled Caleb into the hallway.
"I don't know what exactly I want to say, but I know that I need to say something," she said. "I feel like I'm lying when I don't tell you what I'm thinking about or why I wake up screaming like I'm in a horror movie."
"You don't have to tell me," he reassured her. "I'll be here for you no matter what - you know that."
"I know but I used to think I was protecting you by keeping it from you, or maybe I was just protecting myself from reliving everything one more time than I have to." She glanced at Aiden's door that was still opened a creak. "But if something happened to the people that I love… I don't know if I could deal with the not knowing."
Caleb grimaced and it was his turn to look down at the floor.
"And please don't tell me it's fine because I know it's not and I'm just working up the nerve to tell you."
"Look I have spent more time than I can count speculating on the types of things that have happened to you but I know you're suffering so I didn't want to push it. Because I will stand by you whatever you do or do not tell me."
"Well, I think I'm going to start telling you now." She scrunched her eyebrows together. "As long as you promise me you won't give me any pity looks."
"What about hugs?"
"Hugs are… probably going to be really useful actually." She tucked herself under Caleb's chin and wrapped her arms around him. "Can we sit down first? I've been wearing heels every day since tenth grade but even I underestimate how much they take out of you sometimes," she said, dragging him into their bedroom.
"Procrastinating are we?"
"Can you blame me? This isn't exactly a memory lane you want to take a trip to - this memory lane is always grim and it has people who want to jump-scare you."
The pair clambered over the bed to the side furthest from the wall, with a pretty view outside the window. Hanna snuggled into his side and placed a firm hand on his chest while he ran his hands through her hair.
Caleb didn't say anything as she slowly worked up the courage for her jaw to move. She had spent so long darting around the subject and pretending it didn't exist even when she was having a full-on panic attack that it was like walking through quicksand to get the first words out.
Maybe an onlooker would glance at them as a pair, huddled together with bags under their eyes, and see a cute couple in their twenties, huddled together after putting their child to bed and a tiring day at work. They wouldn't see the shred of pain that darkened Hanna's pearly eyes or the tension in Caleb's shoulders.
And that onlooker wouldn't look at them as victims or only see the worse things that had ever happened to them but the stranger also wouldn't see the truth. Hanna wanted Caleb to see the truth.
Maybe she shouldn't have worried about it. Keeping it to herself and spreading the information to people she trusted like a puzzle was a habit that would die old. But some of this happened eight years ago - if she wanted to move on she needed to face it eventually - give it words.
"I guess the dollhouse is a good place to start," Hanna said eventually. Her sudden words bounced off the walls of the room and she could barely believe they were hers. "Well it wasn't a good place was it."
"Your mom told me what she knew," he admitted, gulping. "And Toby gave me the police reports, and the photos of that place and of that room."
"But I never told her all of it and you've never heard it from me. Don't you have to get history from a primary source Caleb?" She asked in a strained but light-hearted tone.
"Are you sure you want to do this - Hanna you don't have to do this for my sake."
She nodded bravely. "This is for me as much as it is for you. Just promise me you'll hold me while I cry."
…
Caleb looked down at his sleeping wife. She curled in close to him and her breathing was lifting and falling at a steady pace but he was on the lookout for any erratic movements - he doubted she would sleep through the night, not after what they had just been talking about and he wanted to be awake if she needed him.
(He wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway with the images that plagued his mind and her words playing on loop)
The pale light of the moon that drifted through their window framed her face perfectly. Not that she ever didn't look perfect but there was something ethereal about the way her skin shone and her golden hair cupped her face that transcended the running mascara and the small pout she sported.
"I love you," he whispered.
There hadn't been a time since he first met her that he didn't love her. Sometimes it caused heartbreak, and pain, and turmoil that he could have avoided if he had steered clear of the blonde with too many secrets but he would go through it all again if it meant he could hold her in his arms. Even when she was being a pain in the ass she was perfect.
He would admit that it used to bother him when she refused to tell him what was wrong. He used to worry that he couldn't be good enough at solving her problems if he didn't know what he was dealing with in the first place. But as time went by he realized it was part of how she coped with her PTSD and to make it better all he had to do was be there for her.
Needless to say, he was surprised when she suddenly decided that she wanted to tell him everything. It was about taking it back and finally getting it off her chest fully. It was painful and Caleb saw some dark looks in her eyes that he thought was behind them but he was so proud of her.
It wouldn't all go away now. (He suspected they would both have nightmares and triggers for as long as they lived) It wouldn't all go away but he hoped it would help. He hoped that when he traced the scars along her back and didn't look at them any differently now that he knew the full gruesome story that she would understand none of it made her any weaker.
He would do anything to show that he loved her.
Caleb's eyes flickered to the clock in the corner of the room and it dawned on him how many hours she had been telling her stories. He wasn't going to get any sleep while her words kept him awake and while he kept an eye on her - make sure he stopped any nightmares before they could get that far.
Hanna shifted against him and he could feel her heartbeat throb into his shoulder. The deep thoughts evaporated and all he could think about was how he could make her feel better and how he could wake her up carefully.
"Hanna," he said. He was careful not to touch her shoulder or make her jump but instead slipped his fingers through her hair soothingly. He had learned over the years that it never helped to try to shake her awake and just being a calming presence usually helped her come to herself.
Hanna jolted up, her eyes opening so far they looked like they would burst out of her head. She was gasping like she was drowning and she clutched her arms around her chest.
"Caleb?" She asked.
"Yeah, I'm here princess."
"Caleb?"
He reached to place a hand next to her and she gripped it with both her hands, leaning forward. "Caleb we said it was done last time but what if it's not?" She asked quickly. "And now we have Aiden to look after but what if someone still isn't done playing with their stupid dolls?"
"Hanna whatever happened in your dream it was just a dream."
She sealed his hand from her death trap and slumped back against the headboard. "Yeah, you're right I guess." She took a deep breath. "Sorry."
"What did we say about saying sorry after a nightmare?"
"Right." She bit down on her lip and Caleb could see the concentration and effort not to say it again. "Why am I such a mess?"
"How could somebody as perfect be a mess?"
She shrugged and avoided eye contact.
"You're never mad that you have to deal with all my shit are you?"
Caleb's jaw tightened. "No." She leaned her head carefully on his shoulder. "Sometimes I want to kill the people who did this to you - put you and your friends through all that for so many years. But you are never a burden."
"I love you," she whispered, pulling herself closer into him.
"I love you too." Hanna closed her eyes slowly and he wrapped his arms around her. "Are you going to sleep?"
"I'll try."
"Well, I'll be here if you need to talk." He kissed her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."