The three of them sat around the kitchen table, Greg slowly coming down from his panic attack; "Greg, you are really amazing with the kids, with both of them; you're a natural father… but you need to seek some serious and specialised help with these night terrors and outbursts when you're upset. Because they're going to figure out what happened someday," Rob said as he set down a few cups of coffee.
"That's if they haven't already figured out what happened, or at least that something happened from tonight," James agreed, "Greg, you were near on shouting upstairs in your panic. Not to mention that I think Tyson heard at least part of your venting to me this evening when he came down to say sorry,"
"I don't know if I'm ready," Greg shrugged, "the thought of rehashing all of that; it's a lot to have to go through. Hundreds of events… it's too much,"
"And the nightmares are just enough?" James raised an eyebrow.
"Like you can talk, Mr. anorexia and bulimia," Greg snapped back, "you need therapy just as much as I do! But I take you to therapy, and you secretly shovel so many drugs down your gullet before your appointment that they ask that you don't come back!"
James shut down for that, and Rob took a shaky breath; "you're right, Greg, it's a lot to go through with therapy, and it's going to be a long, painful recovery and it will hurt a lot. But you need to find some way to deal with your demons that don't involve taking them out in verbal outbursts on the kids, especially Tyson. Tyson is going to figure out what happened sooner rather than later, he's going to connect the dots from things he hears, and from what sets you off. Remember, Tyson is a mini you, Greg, his brain works the same way. And he's going to feel so guilty as a result, because you're his hero. Greg, I am so, so sorry for what happened to you; I wish that we'd tried harder to get custody of you before too many things had happened. I know that it absolutely shattered Josie's heart, just as it did mine, knowing what was going on but that we couldn't do anything to stop it. She had so many nightmares about it, I had nightmares about it, too. Maybe if you just give therapy a go? I can ask a therapist friend of mine who works at the school, see if she might know someone who is able to help? I won't give any identifying information out about you, just that I know someone who has gone through a lot of childhood sexual abuse and is now an adult with kids and wants some support to move past his hurt. How about that?" Rob offered, and Greg shakily shrugged his shoulders.
"I guess so," Greg mumbled.
"James; he's probably not wrong about one thing, that it wouldn't hurt if you got some support either. I… I know that it helped me be a better support and learn the right things to say for Josie when I'd been to therapy myself and talked through it," Rob added quietly.
"Aunty Josie went through this? She was hurt too?" Greg looked at Rob, horrified.
"Yeah Greg, she did. It wasn't… as extreme, as what happened to you, but it was pretty bad," Rob whispered, looking down into his tea, "it absolutely destroyed her every time we had to send you back with your blood parents, she'd cry for days afterwards every time. And how much you changed over the years as a result from the abuse, it really cut her up inside,"
"I had no idea…" Greg mumbled.
"How could you? You were a kid, not to mention that you were dealing with how your own abuse affected you. In fact," Rob reached out to Greg and squeezed his hand as he gazed earnestly at Greg, "it was because of you that she sought out help. If it weren't for you, then she would have never been able to recover. Since we both turned 18, we were constantly filing to get custody of you- to get you away from my sister… and John, and anybody else that hurt you, or didn't protect you despite surely knowing that something wasn't right, like Blythe. At least twice, usually three, times a week we were either on the phone to children's services filing more reports or trying to get a court date to get custody. Josie knew that if she was going to be hopefully taking in such a broken, hurt child that you were that she needed to work on herself and recover. So, she did, she did it for you, Greg. You probably helped save her life. And she was so happy when she met James and saw how you two were together, how much you and James loved and supported one another without reservation or judgment, she was so happy that you met someone like that," Rob's eyes began to spill over, "so that you could experience the same happiness and love that we did for the rest of your life,"
Greg hung his head and began to cry, "Rob, if I did… start therapy, would… would you be willing to come with me for the first time? I know it's not ideal, but I don't know if I could go in there alone without support… I mean, I'd ask you James, but a lot of the stuff… it's the kind of thing that's going to make you- as my fiancée- mad. Especially the more… intimate stuff,"
"Yeah, of course I will buddy, of course I will. If you wanted to, we could book an appointment for a day and time where Tyson is in school, and Charlie is at daycare, so then James would be able to sit in, or even just wait in the waiting room in case you need him," Rob promised, "but of course I'll be there if you want me to,"
Tiny steps creaked into the kitchen; "Uncle Greg?" came the tiny whisper, "who are Henry and Big Bill?" and the colour drained out of everyone's faces as they turned to see that there had been a tiny fourth listener in on their conversation.
"Tyson!" Rob hissed, "what are you doing up? This is a grown-up talk!"
"Uncle Greg woke me up earlier when he was talking loudly and crying outside of my room," Tyson frowned, "who are Henry and Big Bill?"
"Tyson, how long have you been standing around the corner secretly listening to this talk? Be honest with me, because you're going to be in the same amount of trouble no matter what you say," Rob growled.
"Since the start," Tyson looked down at the floor, "I heard Uncle Greg outside of my room too. It woke me up. What did your dad, and Henry, and Big Bill, and the others do to you, Uncle Greg? Is that why we can't go to South Dakota?"
"You and bloody South Dakota," Rob muttered, "nobody is going to South Dakota. Nobody from South Dakota is coming here. Tyson, you don't need to know any of this stuff, and you shouldn't be eavesdropping on adult conversations, you know that. This is Uncle Greg's business; it is adult business. It's not for you to worry about, go back to bed now Tyson, and stay there this time,"
Tyson ignored this and fixated on Greg, "why were you so scared about me and Charlie being with them, Uncle Greg? You sounded really scared,"
Greg let out a shaky breath and steadied himself, "they're bad people, Ty, there are some bad people out there who like to hurt kids. They hurt me, and I had had a bad nightmare, that's why I was upset. That's why you need to listen to me when I warn you about certain things, and not question me on them,"
"How do they hurt kids?" Tyson asked, cocking his head slightly.
Greg just shook his head, "that's not something for you to concern yourself with, Tyson. Sometimes we aren't ready to know about certain things yet. You just need to go back to bed, back to sleep, and forget anything you heard tonight, because you're not ready to know about these things yet, okay?"
"Okay," Tyson sighed, and turned and walked back upstairs, while Greg dropped his mask to look absolutely horrified.
"He's going to find out what happened, he's too young, oh my God, I'm an idiot!" Greg groaned once he knew Tyson would be out of earshot, "you're right Rob, I need therapy sooner rather than later, if for nothing more than to protect the innocence of these kids, they don't need to know what stuff happened, they're too young. How soon do you think you can get me in to see someone?"
A few days later, Greg found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Rob's red Ford F-150 Raptor truck out the front of a therapist's office. "Well, I guess this is it," Greg mumbled, "God, I feel revolting. I feel so sick, is this normal? To feel as though I'm about to vomit everywhere, while simultaneously wanting to get the hell out of here?"
"In this case, I think it'd be weird if you didn't have those feelings," Rob pointed out gently, "it's totally normal, these are big issues to deal with, and the first step is always going to be the hardest. I booked a double appointment, so it'll be about two hours give or take,"
"Come on Rory, we'll get through it together," James smiled lovingly at him from the back seat. And with that, the three of them headed inside.
Within fifteen minutes, the three of them found themselves sitting in the therapist's office, with Greg and the therapist in the standard bucket type seats, Rob sitting on a computer chair on the other side of the desk, and James sitting on the floor, leaning up against the side of Greg's chair, who was nervously fidgeting with James' hair laying across his lap. "Pass me those rubber bands," Greg mumbled, to which Rob threw over a container of rubber bands and Greg began nervously combing his fingers through and parting James' long hair, beginning to braid it in small braids.
"Okay, why doesn't someone tell me why you're all here, and introduce yourselves. I'm Isabella, or Bella," the therapist put on a tight smile, already having been unimpressed by her last two appointments of the day being made into a giant first appointment, and then to have walked into her office to see three middle aged men lounging about in her tiny office, or that the one who was appearing to be her patient had torn open her new packet of rubber bands and now had them spilt out over his lap as he was braiding the overly long hair of the man sitting on the ground, you'd think that it'd have occurred to at least one of them that if they're needing to sit people on the floor, that it's probably not the right place to bring more people.
"I'm Rob," the heavyset guy in her computer chair started, "I'm the uncle… Greg's uncle. Different from any uncle that might be mentioned here, other side of the family. Just to clarify," he added on, reading in her expression of, whose uncle? "we're here for emotional support,"
"So you'd be Greg, I'm guessing," she pointed at the tall, average built guy with short, loose, and beginning to grey, brown curls; who glanced up at her with haunted, piercing, bright blue eyes, nodded, and went back to parting and braiding the hair of the last guy, so that just leaves Rapunzel, the idiot sitting on the floor, she had a good look at this guy, she'd watched him track her as she'd walked in with deep set, dark chocolate eyes; she guessed that he was of average build, but that was hard to tell given his baggy clothes, and had the most stunning hair she'd ever seen on anybody; it was about waist length with a few slight waves throughout it, and very thick and dense and was also the colour of dark chocolate, "and you'd be?"
"I'm James, the fiancée. Greg's fiancée, if you couldn't tell," he gestured towards Greg who was still busying himself with braiding, Bella got the idea that she probably wouldn't having much eye contact with Greg this session at least. "Greg wanted us all to be here with him for at least the first few appointments," James filled in.
"Okay, well why don't we jump right into it," Bella clapped her hands, Greg glanced up at her momentarily from what he was doing before refocusing on the braiding, and James gave her a slightly pained expression suggesting that might not be the right way of doing it. "Do you usually do something like this?" Bella indicated to the braiding, Greg shrugged silently, then paused and nodded, "you don't find it distracting from what you're meant to be doing?" to which Greg shook his head.
"He's not 'meant to be doing' anything," Rob pointed out, sounding prickly, "if he wants to braid James' hair during the session, he should be allowed to do that,"
"Okay, because usually we don't have extra people sitting in on appointments, much less two extra people, which is why we don't have more than two chairs in here, my office chair doesn't count as a chair," Bella pointed out, "because we find that people open up less when they're around their family or partner,"
"You're not going to find that with Greg," James glanced over, trying not to move his head too much, "you'll find he opens up more if he has people around him that are safe. If you had him here by himself you wouldn't get anything from him,"
"Okay, well we can work with that," Bella sighed resignedly, "the patient comes first. Is Greg verbal? Does he speak? Or are you going to be speaking for him?"
"Of course, I fucking speak," came a deep growling voice, "I'm just stressed out, and don't talk to my uncle and fiancée like that, thanks,"
"Okay then, so what are you in here to try and work through?" Bella asked, guessing in her mind it is probably some form of social anxiety, learning social cues, maybe some dependency issues on these two other people?
"Big stuff," Greg muttered, "here, James, come sit in front of the chair, it is getting a bit crooked doing this sideways," Greg patted the front of the chair between his knees. "Can you deal with big, complicated, hard stuff?" he glanced up at her as James shuffled around, James glanced up at her.
"It's my favourite kind of topic to deal with, the more complicated and difficult, the better in my opinion," Bella smiled back, and she saw James wince slightly.
"Brilliant. Me too," Greg looked up at her with a challenging smile his blue eyes shining in challenge, "how about the near daily occurrences of incest and child sex trafficking from the ages of three until sixteen where your father and uncle raped you constantly, usually multiple times every night? The same father and uncle who pimped you out multiple times a week since the age of five and made forced child pornography of you being raped and having whatever the customer wanted to do to you, no matter how vile or violent it was? The same men who would hang me upside down by rope from a tree and use me as a punching bag? My mother who ignored everything that was going on so it didn't interrupt her idea of a perfect life and family? Where you'd be stripped naked in the South Dakota winter and doused in water and left out overnight to freeze any night that you weren't being prostituted out or raped by your dad and uncle? Where you have constant nightmares and night terrors involving it? Where you were probably raped by five hundred men throughout your childhood? Or where you struggle to be intimate any more than basic vanilla doggy style and oral sex because violent and fantasy stuff means that you'll be paralysed in fear, nightmares, and flashbacks? What about being beaten nearly to death because that same dad and uncle are also raging homophobes and they find you napping while fully clothed with your now fiancée and it was only because a female friend intervened that you both weren't killed? how about dealing with being a full time father to a five year old and a two year old while trying to work through your own childhood trauma? Is that enough stuff? Is that 'complicated' and 'difficult' enough for you to deal with? Because honey, we're only covering the tiniest amount of it all so far," Greg snapped, his eyes meeting Bella's in aggression, as his hands were starting to shake, and James turned around to rub his knee comfortingly before turning back and also staring up at Bella expectantly.
"I get it, you're scared, you don't want to deal with this, so you act out to try and scare anybody off who dares to come too close, and it usually works, doesn't it, Greg?" Bella asked.
"Who the hell is this woman? This isn't some defence mechanism; this is what really happened. I got hurt! My dad hurt me, my uncle hurt me, those other guys hurt me, my mom hurt me! The goddamn world hurt me!" Greg snapped, his body tensed up completely, and eyes now wide and staring in challenge and pure viciousness, clearly he was about to start shooting venom from his mouth and start getting very angry and escalate unless Bella chose her words carefully.
"No, no, that's not what I meant, I'm sorry," Bella waved the white flag, "I meant that… people don't understand what you've been through in your life. I'll be honest, it's a lot. But I think we might be able to help with all these things eventually. I'm sorry for being so rude to you before Greg, and you too; Rob and James. I made split second judgements about all of you without getting to know you and what you've dealt with and endured as people," Bella held her breath as she awaited the reaction; the fact that James the guard dog didn't seem to make any negative or concerned facial expressions was supportive.
"I guess," Greg grumbled, shifting back in his seat slightly, dropping his glare from her now and setting about braiding James' hair again, "so, where do we start?"
90 minutes later and everyone in the room was downright exhausted, Greg and James were untangling the last of his braids that part of his hair looked like it'd been crimped, Rob had sat there in silence for essentially the entire session, James had pitched in occasionally, but for the most part had been quiet as well, and while Greg hadn't divulged any more history or personal information about himself, James, their children, or Rob- he had opened up a bit; starting off with the physical abuse and neglect; as everything else seemed far too painful to even touch, and Bella wasn't sure whether that would be a good idea, but was fairly certain it wouldn't. "You did really well, Greg, I hope you come back," Bella smiled, "and you're more than welcome to bring Rob or James, or both, with you next time too,"
"Okay, great, thanks," Greg nodded, as he stood up, James tied his hair back in the long, mid height ponytail it'd been in before, then staggered up, shaking his legs out, and following Greg and Rob out. Exhausted, drained, and internally broken, Bella glanced around her to see what appeared to be hundreds of rubber bands, over half of which it seemed were now tangled up with a strand of hair or two, discarded across the carpet.