Well, that’s not quite the truth. There’s one secret left. And today, I’ll strip myself of that secret too. It’s time. Whether I'm Master, Papa Bear, Sandro, Allesandro, or Padrone…the pieces won’t be put back together until I address what’s hidden inside, until I finish what once was started. A fire that ravaged, but is now merely an ember in the darkness… The question is, will it once again become an inferno, or will it merely die, a whisper of what might have been?
The sterile, quiet medical room is probably meant to be soothing. Away from the hustle and bustle of the Family, with no work to worry about, and no one who needs me, I can focus on myself and healing the parts of me that broke a long time ago.
Except, not having anything to focus on, not being available should someone need me…it adds to the stress and pain in my heart.
Being a failure…it’s not an easy thing to swallow, but that’s exactly what I am. There’s no hiding it behind arrogance and dominance.
No, I’ve been stripped of everything that made people trust me. They’ve seen the truth now; how fragile I truly am and how undeserving of their devotion I am.
I’ve let down everyone who matters, and I’m nothing but a shell of the person I was before my father sold me. No longer Hollis, not even Dayton. I am nothing…
There’s a knock on the door before it opens and Connor strides in. I meet his dark green eyes, seeing nothing in them as he keeps his emotions locked down. “Mind if I shut the door?”
I shrug. “It’s fine.”
I have to look away when he pushes the door closed, the latch catching. Taking a long, slow breath, I focus on the fact Connor’s here with me—I’m not alone. It normally doesn’t bother me when someone else is in the room with me, but nothing is“normal”right now.
“Javi said we’ll have privacy for this session…” Connor’s words hang in the air, and I swallow.
“Leandro knows to delete the audio whenever a session occurs outside of one of the therapy rooms. I trust him.” Not that it matters if he overhears anyway.
My carefully sealed wounds are opening, and soon, everyone will know my truth.
“How are you doing?” Connor asks as he takes a seat in the chair beside my bed.
I shrug. “I’ve been better.”
“Do you need anything? I can bring you something special, if you want. Clothes, books, anything to make your stay here more comfortable.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, sure. I need to be comfortable while I’m here, tearing myself down.”
“Hey, we established the first time we spoke that this was going to be hard. Therapy involves a lot of steps forward, but also steps back. There’s no shame in asking for help. In fact, it says you’re finally ready to take an active role in your mental health journey, and I can’t tell you how proud of you I am.”
I snort. “Don’t try to fucking Daddy me.”
“Why can’t I be proud that you’re taking steps to find your balance again?”
I shake my head, looking down at the scars on my arm. “How are you not frustrated? I asked you for help and then went right back to dodging you.”
“Yes, but that was to be expected.” He tosses a manila folder onto the bed. “You can read it, if you want. It’s all the information Doc was able to pull together for us.”
I want to toss it in the trash, but the temptation is too great. Flipping the cover open, I look down at the two sheets of paper in the folder. They're just my recent test results and a few notes on what Doc has observed about me over the years. My anxiety, the fact I hate being touched by most people, and my dislike of fully closed doors. That’s it.
I look up at Connor in confusion, and he tosses another folder onto the bed. “That’s what Javi and I have been able to gather, based on his research and our observations.”
This file has more notes, but it's still rather slim pickings, and some of my tension eases, my shoulders relaxing.
Connor leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Your secrets are still safe, Hollis. Whatever you’re afraid of, the censure you’re worried about facing, it’s not here. No one knows anything you don’t want them to, and you’re not required to tell more than you’re comfortable with at any given time. I’m here to help guide you, to give you the tools you need to let go of all the pain you’ve bottled up for so long. But what I can promise is that I won’t judge you. Ever.”
I blink back tears, my throat tight. Closing both folders, I push them away, grateful more than words can say for this gesture of good faith. Somehow, after only meeting with me once, Connor was able to figure out that I would need the reassurance that my past is just that, mine.
Clearing my throat, I look down at my hands, gripping my fingers tightly as the urge to cut rises up, the pain already throbbing through my arm, but I know it’s all in my head.
“I don’t know how to start, or what to do. I…fucking hell, I’ve been in therapy before. W—when I first made it to H’s place—he’s…my brother, for lack of a better term. He and V were the only family I had after everything, and they encouraged me to talk to someone if I wasn’t going to talk to them. They knew, of course, because I was staying with H and it was only fair he knew.”
“Sometimes, talking to an impartial third party is easier than talking to those closest to us. There’s no shame in that. It doesn’t mean you don’t trust them, or don’t believe they’ll listen or care about you, but it’s easier, isn’t it? To bare your soul to someone with no emotional ties, who you don’t have to worry about if they still like you or not afterwards.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m not sure the therapy helped. I…still had nightmares. Was still so fucking terrified to leave the house. I… God, V came up from Mexico to stage an intervention with H because they were worried about me. It had gotten so bad, I didn’t leave my bedroom for an entire month.”
