Page 10 of Surviving the Merge
She scribbled notes onto her pad. That was the most she’d ever gotten from me in a single session. I typically used her as a sounding board. Not really believing that change could be made. Scared to find out what I would lose if we went down that path.
Butsomethinghad to give. Constantly consumed by culpability, Blake’s pain and Damon’s rage threatened to swallow me whole. But that something was dependent on one thing: I wouldn’t sacrifice one of them for the other. I couldn’t survive that again.
“Sex plays a major role in your relationships,” she stated.
I rolled the word “relationships” around on my tongue. Plural. It fit the profile. I sat up straighter in my seat, crossing my arms. “How is that important?” I’d avoided talking about that side of our lives. Knowing that changing it was a hard stop for me. Knowing that she’d want to dig into why that would be.
“I’m trying to establish your coping mechanisms,” she said, softening her tone further. “We know that Damon and Blake are different, but how are you different in your interactions with them? What does each of them pull from you?”
“Sex is important. I’d even go as far as saying it’s crucial. My needs are dependent on who I’m dealing with.”
“Dig deeper,” she pushed.
I filled my cheeks with air and blew it out. The atmosphere turned heady and oppressive, and I tugged at my shirt collar. Touching deeply on the topic felt like a betrayal to our intimacy. Not to mention inappropriately arousing. “Damon reduces me to my baser instincts. An animal in heat whose only goal is to rut. I become incoherent. He turns me primal. No room for shame, pride, or coyness. I want, I need, and he takes.” I punctuated the three. Her gaze told me that she got it.
“Blake makes love. It’s very... romantic.” With a warm but stern tone, I said, “And I need it all. I’m not here to try and dissect possible childhood traumas that may explain why I would be attracted to what I have with them.”
Her smile was knowing. “I wasn’t going to suggest that you were. I don’t particularly think that what you two have is unhealthy, Justin. We are all multidimensional. Full of contradictions. Our desires vary in degrees from day to day, much like our cravings for food.
“What I think is that we need to figure out if integrating Damon and Blake is possible.”
“Integrating?” I gripped the arm of the couch as my breaths shortened. “What does that entail?”
“Right now, they’re two parts of a whole, each half responsible for what the other can’t cope with. Integration would bring those parts together again. Infuse them.”
I took in her words, then scooted to the brim of my seat, kneading my temples. What did I stand to lose here?Who?
I’d be selfishly satisfied with the status quo, if my two reasons for living weren’t currently preparing for war with one another. These past few years, I’d been walking through an unforgiving mist. Unable to see the horizon. The unwell side of me had to have Damon and his brand of uncompromising, punishing love. But not without Blake. Blake was the stream of light that guided me out of Damon’s dark cave. Without him, I’d be consumed by the darkness.
In all my sessions with Julie, we’d kept the focus on Damon and Blake. I purposely skirted around theotherissue. Julie allowed it, but for how much longer? When would I have to face the fact that they weren’t the only ones in need of help? And change.
I harbored a fear, and even now, a burning began behind my eyes just thinking about it. I’d been willfully stunted. Stubbornly residing in stasis. Advancing through life professionally but denying myself growth in other ways.
If I allowed myself to evolve, would my evolution cost me my love for Damon and Blake? Would my shutters be lifted? Would the sun provide better light through the graying clouds? Would I see that beyond the previously elusive horizon, a better life waited for me? One without...them?
Julie slid a box of tissues across the table in my direction, I blinked rapidly, refusing to need them.
She mistook my long silence for skepticism. “If integration is not a success, it doesn’t mean that all hope is lost. Dissociative Identity Disorder is not a death sentence, Justin. There are other things to be tried, but we need to take that first step.”
“Blake fears that allowing Damon free rein outside of Elite will spur Damon’s permanent takeover. Blake is the alter, who’s only here to begin with because five years ago Damon allowed it. And Damon is becoming increasingly unsatisfied. Can’t say that I blame Blake. I don’t know what a life with only Damon would look like at this point. And I love Blake. I need them both.”
She turned serious. “Justin. We can keep going on like we have, making no real progress, but that’s not going to benefit anyone.” She leaned forward, catching my gaze. “Get Blake in here. Let’s start the real work.”
Speaking around the lump in my throat, I asked, “Can you promise me I won’t lose either of them?”
“I can promise you that, in the end, things will be better than they are now.”
Asking for a much-needed break, I looked to the ceiling, running my hands down my face.
4
Igot home that evening to find Blake already there. Leaving my wet shoes by the door, I stepped down into the darkened living room. The lightning from the storm illuminated Blake’s silhouette at the window. I padded toward him, unable to resist his wild hair. I ran my hands through the damp strands once within reach. “I thought rain-watching was my job,” I said. Blake’s bleak smile reflected off the glass. I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind and dropped a kiss to his bare shoulder. “You smell good.” It came out muffled against his skin. His scent held faint traces of bergamot that sat right below the surface. So different from Damon’s rich earthy scent. I gave in to the urge to bite. “And you look as bad as I feel.” I planted a quick peck to his nape before resting my chin on his shoulder. Worry bled from his eyes. “We have a lot to discuss, don’t we?” I asked.
"Yes, we do, but not now.” He circled in my arms to face me.
“What do you suggest we do now?” I trailed kisses along his collarbone.
“Go get showered. I’ll order food.” He kissed the top of my head, then turned and walked away. I stood there staring after him. Cold from the loss of his touch.
