Page 43 of Oh, Sacred Dark
He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He wasn’t being hit, whipped, made to crawl on a leash while the Doms jeered at the pretty little Worm, so well trained—
None of that was happening. He was fine. So why couldn’t hefeelfine? Why couldn’t he just get over it?
Roman was so, so tired, and he didn’t know what to do.
And then, as if that weren’t enough, he was pushed into therapy.
His therapist’s name was Li-Shun. She was in her forties, probably, although she didn’t look a day over thirty. Her cheekbones were round and glittered with some sort of shimmer. Her hair would always be pulled away from her face. Her eyes were kind.
Roman didn’t trust her.
He knew that she must be reporting to Tyler and Dr Elise, maybe even to Archie.
Roman made the mistake of telling her he thought that.
“How have you been doing this week, Roman? Have you been eating well?” Dr Li-Shun asked. She always began the sessions with a variation of that questions:How are you doing, have you been sleeping? Any aches and pains this week? How’s the garden going?
Roman took a deep breath and debriefed her dutifully. “I’m good, thank you. I ate well. On Thursday, the day after I last saw you, I had porridge with bananas and cinnamon for breakfast. I…” The smile he’d plastered on his face wobbled. “I had a little Drop, so I didn’t have lunch, but you don’t have to tell Tyler and Dr Elise—they know, I promise.”
Roman paused there because she always asked about his Drops—he’d only had three in six weeks, so he was doing pretty well, he hoped, but it was always a punishing conversation after.
Instead of asking about the Drop, however, Li-Shun said, “I wouldn’t be able to tell Tyler and Dr Elise. These sessions are confidential, unless you are an immediate threat to yourself or others.”
Roman nodded. “Right. Sorry.”
Dr Li-Shun looked at him carefully. Dread crept into his stomach. “Something tells me you don’t quite believe me,” she said.
Roman’s throat closed up. Dr Li-Shun was a sub, but if she was under orders— “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“That’s all right. No need to be sorry—belief is something that’s quite out of our control, isn’t it? Either we trust something, or we don’t. There’s no forcing it.”
Roman nodded slowly. He didn’t know where she was going with that, but she didn’t appear angry that he’d indirectly called her a liar.
There was an odd stretch of silence in which Roman tried not to fidget and Dr Li-Shun peered at him like she was thinking hard. “So, Roman. Did you know—I love my job. My mom had pretty bad mental health issues when I was little, and I always felt like it was my fault—childish assumptions and all that.”
Roman sat very still, listening avidly. It was the first time the doctor had said anything about herself.
“It’s taken me a lot of years to get here—to get my degrees, go to therapy myself and untangle all that childhood trauma, open this clinic. It’s been a long journey. But I’m really happy with what I’ve built here. I’m telling you this because I think you’re used to the people around you being self-serving, manipulating and hurting anybody who gets in their way. And how do you knowI’mnot like that?” she mused.
Roman opened his mouth to protest, but Dr Li-Shun held a hand up with a smile.
“No, no, it’s okay. It’s natural. You’ve survived this far because of that, right? It’s kept you safe, not trusting people. If you don’t expect anything good, you won’t be disappointed when they hurt you.”
For some reason, his eyes started to burn with tears.
“So what I’m going to say is this. Unless you reveal something which makes me believe you will be a direct threat to yourself or others, I will not tell anybody anything about what goes on in our sessions. I’m going to keep our sessions between us because I care about you. Because I want to help in your healing journey, and I can’t do that without your trust.” Her voice was potent but not harsh.
Roman swallowed, gaze flitting away.
“However,” she went on, “if you don’t believe I’m a trustworthy person, you should know that if I tell anybody what happens in our sessions, I will be stripped of my title and my clinic, and I’ll lose everything I’ve worked all my life for. So even if I’m a manipulative, self-centred person, nothing you say to me will escape these walls.”
Roman’s head was spinning, lip trembling for no discernible reason. “Okay,” he replied shakily.
The tilt of Dr Li-Shun’s smile was rueful. “It’s difficult, Roman. I know I’ve said this before, but maybe you’re a little more ready to hear it now—I’m here foryou. Because you have gone through things that have harmed you, like they would harm anybody, and that necessitates help to heal.”
Roman clenched his fists. “But it’s over. Nothing bad is happeningnow.”
“True. But think of it this way. If you got into a car accident and shattered your legs, would you wake up in the hospital and say, ‘I’m not in the accident anymore, why can’t I run?’ Or would you understand and accept needing significant medical help and physical therapy to recover?” Dr Li-Shun said pointedly, although not unkindly.
