(Backstory: I sometimes forget that dangerous things are dangerous. I sometimes forget that Weaver is surrounded by shapeshifters that intentionally take on ‘safe’ faces to not trigger certain reactions. I sometimes mistake the blinds for the image it protects. I am sometimes reminded of the truth.)
So. One full on panic attack + blackout + episode later, I open my eyes to find myself in the lair with fifty feet of mixed emotions wrapped around me.
A serpent head large enough to bite me in half stared me eyes to eyes. “I will not be a caricature. And neither should you.”
He shifted his hold so his head pointed away from me before continuing to speak. “Now. You are going to stop running and confront [a thing], or you are going to have a panic attack every time the topic comes up.”
I did not answer. I don’t trust my memory nor my judgment. To be honest, I just wanted to forget and pretend nothing ever happened.
Snake read my too loud thoughts with too little effort. “And that is why you are vulnerable. As long as you turn your back, it will hold you tighter than I.”
I propped my arms on a chest tight coil. “Well shit, Snake. Just how the fuck am I supposed to have a psychological exploration of an assault when my shrink and captor is the one that assaulted me on the first place? There’s a hella lotta shit that’s all sorts of fucked up about that, you know.”
He started to turn towards me. “I’m your captor now? What happened to just ‘warden’?” He turned his head fully away. “If you’d rather rest, rest. I’ll make sure you don’t leave for adventures. Your body is to stressed for it right now.” His tone betrayed his assumption that I was going to try and run again.
“Or…?”
“Or we could stop pretending there aren’t unresolved issues.”
“Such as?”
“Such as you shutting down every time [that topic] is brought up because you can’t handle your part in that event.”
I bristled at the accusation. “Some would call that victim blaming.”
His tone remained tired. “Some hide behind labels to avoid responsibility and ownership of their actions, right or wrong.”
I didn’t respond right away, despite the multiple sarcastic barbs that came quickly to my tongue. He’s right about my wanting to remain portrayed as innocent. I realized he continued to face away from me.”Why are you turned away from me?”
“So you can’t accuse me of mesmerizing you. If you dare to explore this, you’re going to rip the scab off a festering wound. It’s going to hurt. You are going to hurt. You’re going to relive it in perfect reflection and you’re going to feel every sensation. You’re going to want to turn away, to make it stop. And you will reach for anything you can grab, even if what you grab will do worse damage than cleaning out the wound.”
“Why now?”
“Because I am not a caricature. I will not allow you to make a verbal doll out of me. It was amusing at first, but it is becoming an escape for you. You asked for time to deal with it. That time has ended. I am not safe as humans define safe. I am not an animal to be trained into domesticity. Neither are you. It’s time you started seeing yourself as you are, not as what others think you should be.”
“I’m going to write this publicly.” I’m still not sure if I said that as a threat, and if so, to whom.
“Good. You can’t hide from it again. Certain readers won’t let you.” He turned his head to the side. Just enough for me to see him lick the air in calculated annoyance. He wants me to confront the memory of it, but he can’t push me to do it. He’s playing against my emotions, and it is a game he knows I can see clearly.
“Okay. From the beginning, then.”
He turned around and faced me with emerald eyes. I returned his stare.
A subtle nod.
An unspoken acknowledgement.
And it began.