Building Neptune

Chapter Six: "Return to the Rapids"

Jean sat back in her chair. "Tell me about him."

"Matt was one of my customers. Some of his friends bought me for him when he got into the internship program he wanted. I think it was mostly a joke, to make him uncomfortable. I was lying on his bed when he got into the room, naked like they told me to. He kicked them out and told me to get up. He asked my age, and I said eighteen. He said 'Bullshit,' and he looked me over, fucking inspected me. I thought it was just some weird thing, you know? But he was looking for bruises, looking at how much my ribs stuck out. He asked the last time I'd eaten. I lied and said just a day ago. Then he asked the last time I'd seen a doctor and I almost laughed in his face."

"He had me stay the night, but we didn't do anything. I tried to. God, I tried to. I mean, he was this gorgeous older man that actually seemed to give a shit…I thought he was going to Pretty Woman me, and I guess he sort of did. The next day, he had one of his med school buddies give me a physical, STD test, blood counts, the whole deal." Cal paused and frowned.

"What did they say?"

"Chlamydia, anemia and malnutrition, unset breaks…anal tearing." He grimaced at the memory. "But I just remember being so shocked…so fucking shocked that I wasn't positive."

"You were lucky. I'm sure a lot of boys in your position weren't."

Cal shook his head. "Most of the guys I knew, hell, most of the girls I knew…I just assumed I would be too. Then I found out I'm not and all the sudden my life seemed...long, like it wasn't already over. I could actually do something with it."

"Was that a bit scary?"

He nodded rapidly. "Matt got me treated for the Chlamydia, gave me something for the tearing, and told me I had to stay with him until I gained some weight. We didn't do anything for almost a month while I was living with him. I was just about dying. He said he was trying to do the right thing and not take advantage of me, but I was so in love with him by then…I couldn't help myself. I crawled into his bed in the middle of the night and begged him to fuck me. I told him I wanted to have sex with someone that I actually wanted. Which was true, yeah, but I was still being a manipulative little bitch." Cal laughed, and Jean gave a half-hearted laugh too, playing along.

"So it was good at first? The relationship?"

He looked up at her. "For about four months. And then that winter, my pimp found me again." His expression went dark. "He threatened to kill me, to kill Matt, if I didn't do what he said. I was still living with Matt, but I was sneaking out of the apartment at night to go work bars. He found out a few weeks later when I gave him crabs."

Jean leaned her elbow on her desk. "Matt was angry?"

"He was pissed. He started going off about how he'd trusted me, how he'd taken me in, given me everything, and he was right. He was completely right. I was fucking around on him."

She frowned. "Cal, you were a scared kid. You thought you were protecting him."

Cal shook his head. "I was an idiot. I should have told him."

"Did he hit you then?"

He shrugged. "He just shoved me, pushed me against the wall and asked why he shouldn't just toss me out on the streets like the whore I am…was." He shifted uncomfortably. "I begged him to give me another chance. I told him I didn't know what to do about the pimp. He told me he knew a guy, but that's all he would say. I never saw my pimp again after that."

Jean pursed her lips. "What did you think about that?"

"I mean, I was grateful, but at the same time it was intimidating. He'd scared off the one person that had scared me the most. I thought, 'Well, I'd better stay on his good side.'"

"That's when you started being afraid of him."

He sighed. "Not always. Just when I made him angry. Which happened more and more." He shifted in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. "At the end of the year, he started his internship, and it was really stressful for him. They had him working twelve hour shifts, sometimes more. I didn't want him to think I was just sponging off of him, so I found that job at the club. He wasn't very happy about it, though. After the thing with my pimp, he got really possessive. He didn't like me talking to other guys, was always telling me that I was his, that I was lucky someone like him could love a whore like me."

She cocked her head at him. "Did you sense something wasn't right with him?"

"That's the thing." Cal's voice went soft. "It wasn't him. It was me."

"Cal, you can't blame yourself for being victimized…"

"No, I mean it! Before me, Matt only had a few boyfriends, all healthy, long-term relationships. I was the wild card. I was the one who'd been selling my ass since I was thirteen. He never would have been like that if I didn't make him so paranoid."

Jean shook her head and leaned toward him. "Whether or not you were a special circumstance doesn't change the fact that he chose to hurt you, to take advantage of you."

"He didn't take advantage! He saved me! I was the one that wanted him!"

She sighed and sat back. "Cal, in cases like yours, where someone has been victimized multiple times, there is something we call 'patterns of abuse.' Someone who has been abused once is more likely to be abused a second time, or even a third."

He frowned. "Like, people want to hurt me more than other people?"

"No, it's not that you make other people want to hurt you. It's something that becomes ingrained in your own mentality."

"Like, I want people to hurt me."

Jean pursed her lips for a moment. "Not exactly. The primary reason is that once you've been victimized, you're less likely to put a stop to it if it happens again, because you think that's just how it is. At the same time, you could also be drawn to or seek out relationships with unbalanced power dynamics, where one person has a lot of control over another."

"Why would I want that?"

"For some people, it's because that's what they know. It's familiar to them, and the familiar is comforting even if it's harmful. I suspect that for you it was because you've gone so long without control over your own situation. You said you felt scared after you found out you were negative. Your pimp had dictated every aspect of your life for over two years. The prospect of running your own life after that is pretty scary."

Cal chewed on his lower lip. "But I didn't know Matt would hurt me at first…"

"Yes, but he was in a position of power over you. He made you stay at his house, told you to get better rather than letting you decide. It was a positive influence at first, but he was still dominating you. Instead of taking control back for yourself, you let Matt take the reins."

"I loved Matt. It wasn't just me needing someone to run my life for me."

Jean smiled sadly at him. "I believe you did love him. He made you feel safe. But I think the reason he made you feel safe was because you were more comfortable in a position of submission."

He frowned at her for a moment. "Are you talking about sex?"

She laughed. "No, not in particular, though I'm sure that played its part as well."

"Y'know, 'cause I was…" Cal murmured, not sure if she wanted to know all that.

"Sexual roles can be very indicative of emotional roles in a relationship." She studied him for a moment. "Did sex ever take on an aspect of violence with him?"

His eyebrows shot up and he shrunk back in his seat a bit. "What do you mean, like, bondage?"

"Or anything that you perceived as violent—roughness, biting, acting out violent situations…"

Cal shrugged. "I mean, yeah. We were kind of adventurous, I guess." He paused. "He used to tie my hands sometimes. And then there were the times he was mad at me…"

"And I'm guessing that was more than acting out violence."

"Well, yeah. I mean, we'd shout and he'd hit me and I'd start apologizing…that's always how it went…but sometimes he'd tell me—tell me to beg him for forgiveness, make it up to him. He'd tell me to show him how much I loved him."

"He made you have sex with him."

"He made me beg him to fuck me. Or to let me suck him off. And he'd be pretty rough with me then. Hold me down, hit me. One time he choked me."

"That sounds pretty scary."

"Yeah, but then afterward, he'd say he was sorry and hold me and I'd feel safe again."

"Was that what you thought would happen the night he died?"

Cal swallowed heavily. "No. No, that had only happened once before, when I was pissed enough that I wouldn't apologize. It was a few months ago, he freaked out at me in front of people, chased a customer away from the club. When we got home, he started yelling and I started yelling. He hit me, and I went into our room and started to pack my stuff."

"You were going to leave him?"

He laughed. "No. I just wanted him to think I would. I thought he'd do the apologizing. But instead he just got madder." He stared at his knees. "He tried to get me to beg him, and when I wouldn't, he pushed me onto the bed. He told me that I was just a dumb whore and I was lucky to have someone as good as him. He told me…he told me I was his and I needed to remember that."

Jean tried not to look as hurt as she felt for him. "He raped you?"

A pause. "Yeah."

"Did things change after that?"

"Sort of. I had to stay in bed for a couple days afterward. He would barely look at me. After I felt better, he started being really nice—nicer than usual—when he wasn't mad. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde only Dr. Jekyll was John Cusack in Say Anything and Mr. Hyde was Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire."

"Did it feel like things had reached a boiling point?"

"I dunno. Not at the time, but looking back…yeah."

"Did he call you names like that often?"

He nodded. "Yeah, always the same deal. I'm a stupid whore, I'm a slut, he's better than me."

"And did you believe him?" She cocked her head to the side curiously.

He glanced up at her, then shrugged uncomfortably.

"Cal, the reason we're talking about these things is so you can figure out what led you into these situations, so you don't repeat them in the future. One way abusers control their victims is by breaking down their self-esteem, making them think they deserve to be hit. Your self-esteem has taken quite a bit of damage, and we need to start repairing it if you're going to have healthy relationships."

He chewed on his lower lip. "Yeah, okay. I mean, he wasn't wrong, though. I was a whore. And I'm not exactly Einstein here."

Jean laughed gently. "Look, the hustling wasn't your fault. You were put in a bad situation. And you're not stupid. You just haven't been in school for quite some time. Which is why I would like you to take classes here at the mansion."

Cal grimaced a little. "By 'quite some time' you know we're talking since, like, middle school, right? I'm way too far behind to catch up now."

"Of course you're not. A lot of kids here are behind. You can start with lower level classes and work with tutors to catch up. I'm sure Bobby would be happy to help you with math." Jean turned to her desk and pulled out a few papers. "Do these practice tests tonight, and we'll place you this weekend. You can start Monday."

Cal took the tests, holding them out like they might be toxic. "Sounds…great."

xxx

Jean watched as Scott went about his regular nighttime regimen, brushing his teeth and washing his face. They'd been together for four years now—an eternity, it seemed, and had known each other since young adolescence. They had fallen into a sort of rhythm. It was almost second nature, their relationship. Even arguments were dealt with in the same way, their triggers and boiling points so well mapped that it was like playing chess. If Scott brought up Topic A, Jean could either 1) refute Topic A, 2) counter with Topic B, or 3) ignore the move altogether. He knew her options and she knew what his responses to each might be. It usually played out differently than it had before, but the end result was never surprising. They would reach a checkmate or a stalemate, and that would be the end of it. They were good sports. Shake hands, say 'good game,' and get on with their lives.

She liked to think it was healthy. She forgot sometimes, though, how bad people will let things become in the name of routine and familiarity.

Scott came back into their room, fishing through his dresser for a clean t-shirt. Jean slid off the bed, moved up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his middle. He stood, tried to glance back at her. "Everything okay?"

Jean leaned her head against his shoulder and kissed his neck. "I worry about it, too."

He turned, pulling her arms up around his neck. He petted her cheek with his thumb. "Worry about what?"

"All of it, the kids. I worry that some of them won't turn out right, like John. I see them in the Danger Room and I wonder if we're training the next Magneto."

"I never meant it like that, Jean. Most of these kids are doing just fine."

She leaned against his chest. "No, they're not. Most of these kids are troubled in one way or another. They all have their sore spots, their secrets, Scott. They all have the potential to become something like that. But we keep doing what we're doing."

"What else would we do?"

"Exactly."