Page 153 of Love Bleeds Red
But now that it’s over, I keep thinking about what comes next. Not just the final pieces of legal stuff, but... everything else. My life. My future. My relationship with Leon.
Maybe school? Maybe looking for a more permanent job. I don’t know. I don’t want to end up living with my parents forever though. And I refuse to let Leon take care of me without being able to pull my weight. It’s a lot to think about.
Right now he’s on a virtual walk through of the Firefly Center. They’ve finished the therapy rooms and most of the dorms. It looks like the place will be up and running before the new year. It’s wild to imagine.
Maybe one day, I’ll go there. A long time from now when my cuts aren’t so raw. It could be healing. Give me closure.
Speaking of that, I’ve been doing some research. About trauma and intimacy and all the stuff therapists talk around but don’t really get into the details of. At least mine doesn’t. I found these articles about something called therapeutic role play. It’s basically where survivors can revisit parts of their trauma in controlled ways to take their power back.
At first, it sounded completely insane. Like, why would I want to put myself through anything that reminded me of what happened? But the more I read, the more it started to make sense.
Leon’s been so patient with me. So careful, still. Even after the last time I broke down.
I know he’s scared of pushing me or triggering me, and I love him for that. But I’m starting to realize that what I need isn’t just gentleness. I need to feel powerful again. Desired. In control.
I need to take those bad moments and look them in the eye. Make them my own.
The articles talk about exploring power dynamics safely. Where the person who was victimized gets to be the one calling the shots. Where they can say exactly what they want and how they want it, and their partner follows their lead completely. Where they can reenact specific scenarios to face them head-on.
God, even writing this down makes my heart race. But not in a bad way? More like... anticipation. I’m wet even thinking about it. Which I guess is a good thing?
Part of me is terrified to bring this up to Leon. What if he thinks I’m weird? What if he can’t handle what I ask of him? But another part of me—the part that spilled my guts in court, the part that survived everything those monsters did to me—that part knows he’ll understand. That part knows I deserve to heal however I need to heal.
I think I’m ready to talk to him. Yeah. I’ll tell him what I’ve been reading and what I think might help. The worst thing that could happen is he says no, right? But knowing Leon... knowing how much he loves me... I don’t think that’s going to happen.
Okay. When he gets off his call, I’m going to do this. I’m going to be brave.
It tookme a few days to work up the nerve to get into the details of what I wanted. Leon had to coax it out of me, but once I started describing scenarios, he didn’t look at me like I was crazy or weird. He understood completely.
We spent hours talking through boundaries, safe words, what I thought might help and what I absolutely didn’t want to try.
And tonight is the night. Or at least I think it is. One of the things we talked about was the element of surprise.
I’m down in the basement apartment, laying in bed alone. Leon’s stripped the room of most of the clutter, leaving only the bed and dresser. Already my mind starts to travel back to those early months where I was alone in a room like this, nothing but the broken thoughts in my head and the waiting… so much waiting for the pain and torment to come.
The waiting is the hardest part. It always was.
I pull the thin blanket up to my chin, even though I’m not cold. It’s more for comfort. The basement has that same slightly musty smell, that same claustrophobic feeling of being cut off from the world. My heart is already starting to race, but not entirely from fear. There’s anticipation, maybe even excitement mixed in.
I’m choosing this.
A door slams somewhere upstairs and I jump. Just my parents, probably. But I remember what it was like to flinch at every noise, to wonder if this time would be the time someone came for me. My muscles tense on instinct.
I don’t know when Leon will show up. It could be any minute, or hours. Or maybe it won’t happen tonight at all. That part gives me that familiar flutter of panic in my stomach.
Normal sounds of the house settling help to calm me. Water running through pipes, the furnace humming, the whir of the ceiling fan. I try to read the book I brought down, but I keep rereading the same sentence until I finally give up. My mind keeps drifting to what Leon and I talked about, what I asked him to do.
I sigh and stare at the ceiling. Time feels like a blur—maybe minutes pass, maybe hours. My eyes are drifting shut when I hear something outside the door.
Footsteps… heavy and deliberate.
I shove my book to the side with trembling hands and listen closely, fighting the urge to curl up into a ball.
The footsteps move closer to the bedroom door.
My whole body tenses as I stare at the door handle, waiting for it to turn. This is it. This is what I asked for. What I need.
The handle rattles, and I bite my lip to keep from making a sound.
