“I drink to take the edge off. I use drugs to forget. It’s not like I want to, but the hangovers are easier to handle than the silence. It feels like I don’t have a choice.”
The clawing demons I bound so tightly inside my head are rattling the chains.
His amber curls bounce in front of his face, hiding the tears I know are there. He doesn’t want me to see them.
My hand finds his arm, thumb brushing over his fine copper-bleached hairs. There’s this hint of tension before his muscles start to relax under my touch.
That’s when his watery eyes lift to meet mine. I see silent screams behind those blue eyes. His body reacts, I see it in the way his breathing gets uneven, a shiver running through his skin. He lets go before remembering he shouldn’t.
Then his gaze drops to my hand on his arm and flicks back to me.
Shit. What the hell am I doing?
I pull away immediately.
I grab the tissue box and slide it to him, hoping it will work as a smoke screen.
He rolls the tissue between his fingers before drying his waterlines.
“Thanks.”
I keep my expression neutral, even as something inside me wants to disappear.
All of it…it’s too close. Too real. This conversation takes me back to a time when I was still breathing, but my heart had died. Back then, no one had reached for me to pull me out of the darkness.
Maybe I want to give Tom the safety and support I never had. Someone who stays. Even when it’s hard, even when it hurts and things get ugly.
“You do have a choice, Tom, and I want you to know that there are ways to make the silence disappear for good.”
He scoffs. “You’re serious? How?”
“The silence is a response to something deeper. We can figure out why it’s there.”
He looks at me as if he sees water burning.
“A response to what?”
“The mind can push things down, but your body doesn’t forget. It finds ways to remind you, whether it’s through pain, exhaustion, or feeling like you’re suffocating the moment the world around you goes quiet.”
He stares into the void, letting it all sink in. The small nod he offers shows he’s trying to understand.
“I suggest that over the next weeks, we talk about events in your past. About the things you might not even realize are connected to this. Because until you do, this cycle is going to keep repeating itself, and I know that’s not what you want.”
“And if I don’t want to talk about my past?”
His voice isn’t defensive anymore. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds more like a plea.
“Then we don’t. There are other ways to work through this as well. But I want you to know that the silence doesn’t go away on its own.”
“I know,” he mutters, then he rubs his temples. “I know,” the second time to convince himself.
“I won’t lie to you. It won’t be easy, and there will be days where it feels worse before it gets better. If you’re open to it, I’ll support you through this process.”
Again, a nod.
Black tears streak down his face, tracing messy lines across his skin. He grabs another tissue, wiping them away. I hadn’t even noticed he was wearing mascara to darken his lashes.
He sniffs, wiping away a last tear. “So, when do we start?”
