Dallas, Texas
June 1979
"Mr Ewing, you wanted to see me?"
JR stood face-to-face with Doctor Rogerson after waiting far longer than he thought necessary. He wasn't much in the mood for pleasantries. He hadn't seen Sue Ellen in person since her admission, and he was sick of it. This wasn't what either of them had envisioned when she agreed to treatment, and he couldn't bear it any longer.
John Ross was coping well enough without her, happy under the care of Mrs Reeves and Pamela. But JR? He worried constantly. He needed to see Sue Ellen with his own eyes to make sure she was truly all right.
"I wanted to see my wife, but the girl at the desk wouldn't let me," he said, his voice edged with irritation.
"Mrs Ewing is still in our intensive program," Doctor Rogerson replied, calm and clinical.
"I'm not asking to take her home. I just want to see her in person."
Doctor Rogerson nodded but didn't offer much else. "Very well."
JR frowned. "I can go in?"
"She's in the garden," the doctor said simply.
At least Sue Ellen was outside, getting some sunshine, not locked up in some dreary room like a prisoner. He hoped her mood reflected that small mercy, but he couldn't be sure anymore how anything affected her.
"How is she?" JR pressed.
"Disturbed," the doctor replied, her tone unreadable. "I'll let her tell you how she feels."
JR's chest tightened. "Is she still at risk of harming herself?"
The question scared him more than he cared to admit. It wasn't just the depression, it was the fear that Sue Ellen might act on it as she had before.
"I can't say," Doctor Rogerson said, frustratingly noncommittal.
Lately, it seemed like there was a lot they either couldn't or wouldn't tell him. That was half the reason he'd made the effort to come here in person.
"Can I go through and see her?" he asked again, impatiently.
"I'll get you a visitor pass. Then you can see her."
Relief washed over JR, though he kept his excitement in check. He was painfully aware she might not be in the best state when he finally saw her.
"JR says he doesn't blame me, but he doesn't know," Sue Ellen said softly, her voice distant as she sat across from Doctor Rogerson.
JR cared deeply; he loved her and told her so. She loved him too, but she still felt uncertain about where things stood between them.
When he visited, he was initially cautious about touching her or saying the wrong thing, but gradually became more comfortable. Her reaction mirrored his in some ways, though from a very different perspective. Where she had once clung to him for security, she now found herself unsure of whether he'd want to touch her, or whether she could even tolerate it. Only after spending time together did she begin to feel more at ease.
When he left, her mood sank, and guilt set in, feelings she was trying to explain to Doctor Rogerson.
Doctor Rogerson's expression was patient, her pen poised over her notebook. "Doesn't know what?" she prompted gently.
Sue Ellen shifted in her seat, her eyes darting to the corner of the room as if seeking an escape route. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.
"At first, Jock planned things. He was... meticulous," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "He'd spend time working on getting me to where he wanted me, physically."
Doctor Rogerson didn't react outwardly, but her pen paused briefly before continuing its quiet scratch against the page.
"He'd touch me where he knew I'd react," Sue Ellen continued, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair. "And I'd try not to react, but sometimes I couldn't. And when I couldn't..." She trailed off, swallowing hard.
"What happened then?" Doctor Rogerson asked, her tone carefully even.
Sue Ellen let out a humourless laugh, shaking her head. "He'd congratulate himself, like it was some kind of victory. And when he wasn't successful, when I managed to hold back, he'd make it sound like it was my fault. Like I'd failed somehow." She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap. "But I never succeeded. Not really. He always had an alternative."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Doctor Rogerson set her pen down and leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady. "How did that make you feel?"
Sue Ellen looked up at her, her expression a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. "Like I didn't belong to myself anymore," she admitted.
Alluding to her experience, the memory of one such moment resurfaced, vivid and raw.
"Stop! Please! You're hurting me," she had begged, her voice trembling.
Tense to begin with, his presence in her bed had been unwelcome. She hadn't been prepared for his advances, nor the searing pain that followed as he pressed on, indifferent to her will or readiness.
"I'd never hurt you," Jock had replied dismissively, his tone almost amused. "There's something wrong with you tonight, you're like a desert."
Her stomach turned at his words. His ability to redirect blame was nothing new, nor was his disregard for her feelings. But this, his refusal to stop, his casual indifference to her pleas, amplified her disgust to a breaking point.
"Every night. I'm not…" she stammered, her voice breaking.
Relief came briefly when he withdrew, but it was fleeting. He didn't stop. Instead, his hands resumed their invasion, each movement stripping her further of her dignity. His taciturn assessment of the situation made her blood run cold.
"If you persist in being unwell like this, we'll have to get that checked out," he said flatly.
"We?" she echoed, dreading his meaning.
"Mm," he hummed, unbothered. "We're in this together. I'll be right by your side going forward."
The way he spoke terrified her, calm, calculated, as though his behaviour were beyond reproach. He wouldn't hesitate to admit to it, so long as it benefited him. If dragging her to a doctor could fix his so-called problem, he'd be content. Her thoughts and feelings meant nothing.
"What does that mean?" she demanded, her voice shaking.
"Let's not ruin the surprise," he replied, a grin twisting his lips.
He winked, a gesture that made her skin crawl. His attitude was chilling, inscrutable. She never fully understood him, couldn't believe she found herself in these situations time and again. He always had more going on in his mind than he revealed, and she was expected to accept his every whim without question.
"Jock," she muttered, squirming uncomfortably.
He ignored her entirely, steering the conversation back to her supposed shortcomings.
"You're arid. Does this ever happen with JR?" he asked bluntly.
"No," she answered, her tone flat, defeated.
There was no use lying. Once, she might've hoped the truth would discourage him, that her disinterest might make him stop. She no longer held onto such illusions. His empathy didn't exist.
"I'll make arrangements so we're not caught out again," he said, as if this were a business transaction.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, bewildered.
His response wasn't for her. "I've got just the thing for tonight," he murmured to himself, lost in his thoughts.
"You didn't answer my question," she pressed, desperation creeping into her tone.
"I can count on one hand how many times I've done this," he said, more to himself than to her.
Her confusion turned to dread as his head dipped, his breath suddenly hot against her most private places.
"Jock!" she shouted, revulsion colouring her voice.
She hoped someone might hear her, might come to her aid. But her raised voice only seemed to spur him on. His coarse bristles brushed against her skin, and she recoiled in horror as his mouth followed.
"Stop it!" she cried, writhing against him.
For a moment, she thought she'd succeeded when he pulled away. Relief flickered but quickly died as his focus remained detached, his eyes trained anywhere but her face. He was speaking, but it was as though he were having a conversation with himself.
"That should do it," he muttered.
He stood then, his weight leaving the bed, and she seized the moment, trying to sit up. But he caught her ankles, yanking her toward the edge of the bed.
"Jock!" she exclaimed, startled.
His strength overpowered her, his hands unyielding as he forced her onto her back. This time, she didn't fight. The ritual was too familiar now; she knew what came next.
"That's right," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
Clearly believing he had done what was necessary to ensure a more comfortable experience, he couldn't have been more wrong. However, that mattered little to him, he was full and ready, requiring neither encouragement nor mutual interest to fulfil his desire.
"I'll repeat it as many times as I have to: you didn't ask for this, and you're not at fault," Doctor Rogerson said, her voice steady yet gentle. "In a stressful situation like the one you've described, there's no blame to place on the victim. You didn't enable or inhibit him; you didn't have enough say to do either."
Sue Ellen sat across from her, feeling the weight of the words. Doctor Rogerson was a calming, comforting presence, someone she wished she'd confided in long ago. Yet, as soothing as her words were meant to be, they couldn't erase the memories. In fact, they often brought the bad times into sharper focus, just as they were doing now.
"I really didn't," Sue Ellen murmured, her voice tight with emotion. "I only found out later that after it happened once, he made a plan for if it happened again. He completely ignored my autonomy in what he did to me. And he invaded my privacy by putting his purchases in my nightstand, ready for him to use. And he did."
"This is becoming a habit," Jock said, frowning at her as if her apparent unreadiness was an offense to his time.
Sue Ellen stiffened, her lips parting to reply. "I'm not inter…"
Before she could finish, he cut her off, dismissing her attempt to explain. "Luckily, I came prepared."
He leaned over her, his weight pressing down against her chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone wriggle away. Escape was out of the question. His broad shoulder blocked her line of sight, but she didn't need to see. The sound of a drawer sliding open was unmistakable.
When he shifted back to his original position, her stomach churned at the sight of the tube in his hand. The sharp pop of the cap and the cold glint of satisfaction in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. A moment later, as he squeezed the substance onto his fingers, her suspicions were confirmed.
"His behaviour was premeditated."
Doctor Rogerson's voice was calm, her conclusion both gentle and precise, as always.
"Very much," Sue Ellen agreed, her tone flat.
"All the more reason to let go of your guilt about the times he didn't have a complaint to make," Doctor Rogerson continued. "Your behaviour was inconsequential. Your reactions were inconsequential. It sounds to me like he knew exactly what he wanted, and how he got it wasn't important to him."
"That's about right," Sue Ellen murmured.
Jock cared only about himself. He had the power to attain what he wanted, and she had been unlucky enough to be the one he targeted to achieve his wishes. But that didn't make her an active participant.
"So why would you feel your husband should blame you?" the doctor asked, her tone probing yet kind.
"You know feelings. They're irrational." Sue Ellen shrugged, her words laced with weary resignation.
Doctor Rogerson gave a small smile in response, one that told Sue Ellen, once again, they were on the same page.