perpetual trust

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tw: intense sex scene, brief talk about Jo being harassed

Beau's always told me I had an exceptional talent for sweeping things under the rug. Frankly, it's something I've done as long as I can remember, but I didn't see it as a bad thing until Beau came along.

Before him, everyone around me let me do what I was doing as long as I was content. Content isn't the same as happy and I know that now. Which is why I wouldn't settle for being 'content' with life. No one pushed me to be better, even my parents saw me as being fine where I was. It was Beau that pried his way into my mind and saw it through until it glowed.

But that didn't mean he completely fixed me up, shiny and new. My mind was still the same old complex thing only I grew to live alongside it. But there were still old patterns of mine that I couldn't shake. The biggest one, my knack for dismissing my issues, has become all the more prevalent as I try to forget what happened to me. And I don't just mean take my mind off of it for a couple of hours, I mean forget. Push it so deep into the back of my mind that I can't recall the memory unless I'm trapped in my subconscious.

Yet, every time I sat down to do just that in these last two days, I don't come across the other version of myself, the one that speaks for all the gunk in the back of my mind. I'd encounter Beau's voice in my head, telling me that I shouldn't do this to us. That he'd be devastated if I tried forgetting something else that'd affect me in the long run. I reasoned with myself to get him out of my head but it never worked. His sad voice was on an endless loop in the forefront of my mind. Preventing me from pushing that god-awful memory and the feelings that came with it away.

The next best thing to do if that was the case was not force myself to relive that moment over and over again. I distracted myself with an innumerable amount of things, reading, watching TV, studying, and on rare occasions, Beau. Beau was my best distraction by far. He knew just how to calm my mind and make it so that my thoughts latched onto him and only him. But with that came lying to him about what happened. It was inevitable that he'd ask how my days went and if there was anything I needed to let off my chest. To that I gave him a reassuring grin and hand squeeze and always said, "Don't worry, baby, I'm fine."

Knowing damn well I was the exact fucking opposite.

Ever since Leo caught me by surprise that day, I've been hyper aware of everything going on around me. On the brink of paranoia I've been solely because of how easy it was for him to gain access to me. I was already high-strung these last few weeks because of the notes I still keep finding and Leo's sudden attack did nothing but ensue more panic in me. For the last few days since he caught me outside of my car, I've barely left my house. I come home and bolt inside before fear could set in. I formed a routine of making sure every door and window was locked before heading up to my bedroom and staying there until dinner was ready.

I've felt so lonely since that happened. I have so many people around me and yet somehow I feel as though I'm the only person in the world with something this heavy to process. I can't find the means to talk to anyone about it. Explain how humiliated I felt when everything was said and done. That lonely feeling convinced me that no one would understand what I was working through. That I was the only one who'd gone through something like this. A traumatic experience has a funny way of doing that to you, tricking you into thinking you're the only one out there who'd be able to comprehend what happened.

Both shame and worry were the leading factors in my secrecy. Ashamed that I'd been touched like that, overpowered like that, rendered immobile by someone so vile. Somehow my mind was twisted to believe that it was my fault to some extent. Society's victim-blaming is to thank for that. And then there was the fear of what might happen if I ever told anyone about what happened. I wasn't sure if Leo would make good on his promise to hurt me worse than he already has and I didn't want to find out. So I practically forced myself into withholding the truth from Beau for both our sakes. I don't know if he'd ever forgive himself if anything happened to me at the hands of another man. I'd rather not face him with that torment and just keep my head low until summer began and I'd be too busy with Beau to even think about my repulsive piece of shit for a neighbor.

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