Page 44 of Oh, Sacred Dark
“I…” he didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never thought about it that way.
“Maybe that’s a thought to sit with? Here’s the thing, Roman. Your brain is a very smart and hard-working organ, but its goal isn’t for you to be content. It’s for you to survive. That’s its priority. It’s tried really, really hard to remember every lesson that’s ever helped you survive. And it’s worked—you’re here now.”
Roman closed his eyes, not wanting to face what she was saying. It was difficult to imagine his brain protecting him when all it seemed to do was torture, but Dr Li-Shun went on.
“And, here’s another thing—it can’t justknowthat those lessons are not applicable anymore. It’s still trying to warn you about things that were dangerous at that time—Doms, for example. People who claimed they wanted to help you. Roman, your brain isn’t broken. It’s well-meaning, just…outdated. And that’sokay. I think we can be kind and forgive your brain for trying to keep you safe, right?”
Big, silent tears fell down Roman’s face.
Dr Li-Shun smiled gently. “We just have to show it that it doesn’t need to do that in those ways anymore.”
Roman took a shaky breath. “How?”
“By looking at how you process information, how that differs from reality, and finding new ways of thinking about things. If possible, we can talk about traumatic events in this safe environment, sustain the panic reaction, and then come down from it healthily. This’ll rewire your brain so that it doesn’t react the same way to those memories and to current events that remind you of those traumatic moments.”
“I don’t know if I can talk about it,” he said, truthful in a vulnerable way for the first time in that room.
“That’s okay. I think you will, eventually. But even if you’re not, there are a lot of other things we can do to help with the here and now. I’m not going to lie—it’ll be hard work. You’ll need to trust me and be willing to be vulnerable. But you won’t be alone. The more you open up, the more you’ll realise how many people are in your corner now. This isn’t your old life, Roman. Let’s try to give the present a chance.”
Roman covered his face with his hands, muffling a hitching sob. Wouldn’t that be nice, not to be alone?
Even if he didn’t deserve it…it would be all he’d ever wanted.
**********
Therapy was hard. Living through his past had been horrible, so he wasn’t going to say therapy was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but sometimes it felt that way.
There was no dissociating from it. They’d rest a lot, doing ‘mindfulness exercises’, which sounded silly but actually helped him when he spiralled into a panic attack. Despite what he’d said about not being able to recount anything from his old coven, it came up by necessity. Like when he’d panicked because Tyler had left him in his house for a few minutes, stepping outside to take a private call. They hadn’t even been in a scene—had just been on the couch, maybe about to start one in a bit. By the time Tyler returned, Roman had been so absent in his own body they hadn’t been able to scene at all, and he’d Dropped the next day.
What could Roman do, then, but explain how his previous Dom had loved to leave him tied up, alone in a room for days? How there were times that months would go by with nobody looking at him, or touching him outside of scenes, as if he were a ghost trapped in a house.
It didn’t feel good to admit all those things, but it was a relief, like draining an infected wound, pus and blood and dead skin stripped away and flesh left raw to heal.
It was a process—painful, exhausting, non-linear—but it advanced nonetheless.
CHAPTER NINE
ROMAN
Roman didn’t know if it was because of therapy or the weeks passing by, but scening with Tyler became significantly easier. He could admit, if only to himself, that he coveted the time he spent with the Dom—the meals they made together, the conversations as they ate, the time Roman spent on his knees.
But it wasn’t perfect.
Dr Elise told him it was normal that he was still having nightmares and Dropping every once in a while, that it would take a while for his body to stabilise completely. It was still reactive, and he was still under stress from trauma.
Most of the time, he ached for the feeling subspace gave him, the sweet aftercare.
Some days, the mere thought of being that vulnerable put him in such a state that it was hard to function.
A little more than a month into scening with Tyler, Roman broke mid-scene.
He’d only just started opening up in therapy, and as useful as it would come to be, it was absolutely draining. He went twice a week, and sometimes the act of scening after was torture.
“You okay?” Tyler asked as they cleaned up after dinner.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just a little tired.” Roman shrugged.
“You been sleeping okay?”
