He nods. “It isn’t so bad. The first time is hard. If you push through it, soon it’s like regaining a semblance of control.”
“How would you know?” I start to laugh, but then it hits me. He said he was abused. And his reaction to my confession. The comment he just made. It all starts to make sense now. “Ben.” I gasp, covering my mouth. He doesn’t say anything, just takes another drink. “When? Who?” I ask, sitting up. “I’m so sorry. I said all those things… I didn’t know… I didn’t think…”
“That a guy could be raped?” His eyes look up at me.
“No. Not that.” I swallow the lump of guilt that sits in my throat. I was so cruel to him, and he suffered just like me.
“I’m not sure many people would call it rape. Maybe morally wrong, but guys would probably make fun of me for not liking it.” He shrugs.
“Ben. I’m so, so, sorry.”
“I never told anyone,” he says, his eyes dropping back to my legs. “It’s easier to keep it to myself than explain how I could be fucked up because some woman played with my dick.”
“How old were you?”
“I think that’s the problem. If I was younger, it would be sick, but it happened at an age that makes it weird. I was young, but just old enough that I could’ve enjoyed it.”
His face is blank as he speaks. I wonder if he even realizes he is speaking out loud. How long has he kept this inside? The way he talks shows he is miles away, lost in thought, but how he has a response to every question lets me know he has probably wanted to talk about it. He has probably thought about it often, but never said anything.
“I didn’t, though,” he adds after a moment. “I tried a few times, you know? To convince myself I wanted it, that it was okay, that I was lucky. Some days I still try to think about it like that.”
I let my hand rest on his arm, trying to remind him of the present. His eyes drift to the connection, but he doesn’t acknowledge it otherwise, taking another sip from the bottle before letting out a dry laugh.
“God if Wes knew.” He shakes his head. “If he knew every night he stayed at my house when she was there, he was saving me, I think he would finally understand why I would literally die for him. I spent those nights wide awake though. Scared she would still try something, or worse go after him.” He pauses fora moment. “I wonder if there were others. I think it’s nice to pretend I was the only one, but that’s just not the reality. Which probably makes me an accomplice, huh? I didn’t say anything, so she thinks she can get away with doing it to others. I probably deserve some jail time for that.” He laughs.
“No. It doesn’t work like that. It’s not your fault if there are others. It’s not your fault at all.”
“Think about it, Prue. I never told a soul. Maybe not going to the police would be one thing, but not saying a fucking word to anyone, ever? That makes me just as guilty.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I say sharply, hoping to get through to him. “Ben, you were raped. You are a victim. It’s not on you.”
“You’re a girl. It’s a lot different when you are a guy. It’s not like she fucked me in the ass or anything. That people would understand me not coming forward about but putting her mouth on my cock. Riding my dick? That should’ve been a wet dream come true, not something that makes my skin crawl. And it’s not like she was ugly. Not by a mile, on the outside at least.” He jerks away from me. “I’m pathetic for being upset about it. Honestly, like you said, it probably wasn’t even that bad. I’m just playing victim.”
“Ben, I was just being a bitch, okay? I didn’t mean it.”
“I know.” He nods, looking at me. “I know you wouldn’t have said that if you knew what happened. I’m just a good punching bag.” He laughs. “Someone you can safely hit, and might I say you are really good at hitting me where it hurts.”
Taking another sip from the bottle, he glances around the apartment as if he’s suddenly aware of his surroundings again.
“What are the odds your stupid ex comes back to night?” he asks, focusing on me again. “How sober do I need to be?”
“You really don’t have to stay. I can handle him myself.”
“Maybe, but you shouldn’t have to. I won’t let you,” he adds more firmly. “Just let me be your white knight for tonight, okay? It would make me feel a little better about myself.”
“Okay.” I nod. “On one condition.”
“What are your terms?”
“Agree first.”
“No.” He laughs. “I don’t trust you.”
“Then leave,” I counter. Now it’s my turn to find a way to comfort him. To force him to stay instead of run, like all those times I did. And I have an idea how to pull us both out of the darkness. I just have to hope he is up for it. And that I can actually do it.
I don’t know what it is about his confession, but I feel extremely connected to him now. Maybe it’s how it mirrors my own pain, or the way I know he can understand how I’m feeling, but his confession almost makes me feel better. Less alone even. I don’t think I ever felt this close to someone who wasn’t Cameron before. I may not even feel this close to Cameron.
A low sigh leaves his lips as he runs his hands through his hair. “I only agree if it isn’t you asking me to leave you alone after tonight or sex.”
