“No. No, it’s fine.”
I wasn’t a therapist. I had no idea what to say, how to get him to open up. But my visions were rarely wrong. I knew he would never trust a stranger with his trauma. And what therapist would understand Regge’s past?
“Remember when you said you wanted to be better? I think this is it. A start anyway. It will be hard, painful even, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Please? Trust me with this?”
“No. Please. Let’s just sleep.” His voice was plaintive.
But I didn’t give up. I simply held him and petted his hair, whispering encouraging words. After a few moments, he began to talk.
“I’ve told you my past—my brief sex for food summer. That fall, the sickness had eased and pickings at the market were good. I’d learned to stash away some coin for emergencies.” He adjusted in my arms. I kissed his slightly sweaty temple.
“I kept my stash in a tin box in a livery where I found occasional work. There was a loose board in the far stall. I had just added to the box and put it away when two men came in, having followed me from the market. One of them had recognized me from the brothels that summer.” He paused. I waited, not wanting to interrupt.
“Initially, they were after my earnings. I could run, or I could give them the money and hope that was enough, or I could fight. They were large men, ruffian types. Not quite Abraham’s size but close. I was stupid. And arrogant. I chose to fight.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen, maybe. You know I never knew my true birthdate.” He huffed out a breath. “I lost of course, got a beating for my trouble. They found the box, but the biggest bloke wanted more. He—he held me down. Ripped my hose open.” Regge’s breathing became ragged.
Trembling and sniffling, his voice broke in a sob. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to hear the rest, but I tried not to react. If Regge was strong enough to relive his past, I would be strong enough to listen. I tapped my fingers lightly on his shoulder.
“I fought them. I fought them so hard. I couldn’t see, my eyes were swelling shut, my mouth was full of blood. I remember his hands on me, pushing me into the stinking hay. The other one had backed off, said to just take the money and go. But the big one kept saying, ‘He’s just a whore. Just a whore.’” Regge was full on crying now, his shoulders shaking, his words more garbled. “I felt him. I remember struggling to breathe under his weight, his hand on the back of my neck, holding me down. I managed to get my knees under me to push up, to try to throw him off. Then there was nothing. A blow to my noggin’ and I was out.” He stopped talking, shaking with the memory.
I couldn’t say anything. My hand barely grazed his shoulder, just to let him know I was with him.
“My friends had come looking for me. Petey and his brother. Petey was a year younger but stouter than I. He could make a lot of noise when he wanted to. They saw the guy on top of me and hit him with a shovel. The bloke staggered away. They picked me up and helped me to their house. I… I checked myself, and I was fine. They’d gotten there before the deed was done.”
“Still, it was traumatic, Regge. Here, we call it sexual assault.” I wanted to hold him and protect him forever.
“In those days, they wouldn’t see it that way. Street kids were fair game, abused and beaten all the time. I was lucky. I’d lost all my savings, but I hadn’t been raped. I survived. It tooka while for the bruises to heal, but that was just the outside of me. In truth, I didn’t think much about how I felt about things. Inside.”
“Oh babe,” I whispered, my own voice raw with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
He tightened his grip on me and cried, tears sliding down my chest. I felt the fear and hopelessness of a young Regge. His shoulders shook as he sobbed. Just like my vision.
Eventually he calmed, only a hitching breath now and then. He sat up to grab a tissue from the nightstand, turning away to blow his nose. I rubbed his back, the skin soft under my hand.
“It’s been years. I thought I put it behind me. I’m still a cocked-up mess. And weak. I’m sorry.”
I held him close for a minute, putting my words together. “Maybe being intimate with someone kind of broke the dam, you know? Like you’ve had all this bottled up and we let it out. This is good though, yeah? Because now that it’s out, you can start to heal.”
Cupping his jaw in one hand, I tilted his face up to look into his eyes. “You are the strongest man I know. So strong. So brave. I know this for a fact about you.” I pulled him to me, my hands running through his hair. “Did Theo know?”
His head shook. “Gods no. Theo would have made me pick them out so he could kill them. No. I told no one. I suppose I just wanted to forget about it.”
“Thank you for telling me. I knew it would be a tough thing to do.”
“You knew?”
“A vision. The first time I’ve ever had one of me. Or you, for that matter. I saw you and me here, you were crying, struggling to get the words out. So I knew it would happen and that it would be a good thing. A turning point or something.”
Regge shuddered as he shook his head. He let me pull him back under the covers.
“I know logically that it’s not my fault. And that I was extremely lucky. But I’d been taking care of myself for so long. I thought I was so tough. I would just brush it off, right? Go on with my life.” He sighed, interlacing his fingers with mine. “First time I ever had sex, for real, I freaked out and cried. The guy thought me mental. I never saw him again. It took me almost a year before I tried again, found a stable hand—a lovely ginger lad, closer to my age. He taught me a great deal.” I felt him smile against me. “Then came Charlie. He was virginal and golden, adventurous and kind. Still, I couldn’t let him near me that way.”
I scooched down in the bed, turning to face him, laying a hand on his cheek.
“We don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to, Reg. I’m happy to leave things as they are.”
