The Choice (a Painful Past)

167 Colby's POV

TW//CW// DESCRIPTIVE CONTENT OF COERCION RAPE AND OTHER ABUSE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

"I won't judge, Callie. You can tell me or not. It's up to you." I told her.

But I really wanted her to tell me whatever it was, even though I was terrified to hear it.

What could be worse than what she had already told me? This asshole had completely destroyed every aspect of her. Her confidence, her self-identity, her open heart, her trusting nature, all of it!

"Well...I don't know if it's true though. It's something that my therapist confirmed for me. Did you know that I'm labeled a victim of abuse? Different kinds, too. Mental, emotional, physical, and sexual. It's like my entire life has been thrown into this neat little folder, labeling all of my downfalls." She sighed, as she stretched her legs out. "Only there's nothing neat about it."

Sexual abuse. Those were the two words that my brain stuck on. Sexual abuse.

"He- did he- did that bastard rape you?" I stammered out.

She flinched at my words and her eyes went dead for a moment. That scared me more than anything that she had told me, or any way that she had acted.

"I don't know." She whispered. "Is it really rape, if you don't say no? Or if you do say no, and then give in anyway? My therapist said that it's called coercion rape. I didn't know that was a thing." Her voice was monotonous, like she was a recording from the doctor's office or something. No emotion whatsoever.

My body started trembling, from head to toe, like I was freezing. I was. It was like I had been dunked headfirst into a pit of the coldest ice water that ever existed.

I was in total shock.

How could something like this happen to her? To one of the sweetest, most loving people that I had ever known. It wasn't right!

"If you didn't want it to happen, then it's rape." I replied, gently, trying to keep the acid from my voice.

"Well, wasn't it my job though?" She asked, throwing her hand out in questioning form. "I mean, we were together. If I didn't say no, then it doesn't count."

I swallowed the painful lump that was cutting off my airways. "Why didn't you say no?" I asked, hearing how hoarse my voice sounded.

She pulled at her hair and let out a quiet, dead laugh.

"Because I didn't want to make him mad. It seemed easier to just let him get what he wanted, than to risk starting a war."

I clenched my jaw so hard, I was surprised that I didn't hear my teeth crack. I was going to KILL him.

"Is that why you would give in? When you did say no, I mean." I asked.

It was so hard to speak to her in a gentle tone. It was so hard to do anything, besides jump in my car and drive straight to his place, so that I could make him bleed.

She nodded, then looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

"I don't want to be a victim. I don't want to be a survivor. I just want to be me. Why does this have to be part of my personality? Why do I need to be recognized for something like this? I went to this therapy group of 'survivors.' That's what they called themselves. I had to introduce myself, like I was in AA or something. Hi, my name is Callie, and I'm a survivor of sexual abuse. Aneisa, my therapist, she says that I have to learn to be okay with it. With saying that. To face it or something. But why? Why do I HAVE to do anything that someone else says? I did that for years! I didn't say no! So, I'm not a victim. Not like they are. The ones in that group. Their stories were far worse than mine. Some were beat into submission. Some were held down and had men force themselves on them. Some were threatened with death, unless they gave it up. What's my story? I didn't say no to someone that I was in a long-term relationship with. Do you know how stupid that sounds?!"

"Come here." I said, as I went to pull her against me.

My heart broke when she shook her head. My anger flared when she pulled her knees to her chest and hid her face in her arms. It was like she shrunk in on herself, not wanting anything or anyone to touch the bubble that she had put around herself.

"It doesn't sound stupid." I replied, as gently as I could. "Everyone has their own story to tell, Cal. Yours is different from theirs. It doesn't make it any less true, or any less painful. Maybe they only had to endure their torture one time. One single time. You had to endure yours over and over again, for years. Have you thought about that?!"

Her head came up and her frightened eyes connected with mine. My voice had changed. My tone.

I couldn't keep the anger in. I was trying so hard, but it was seeping out.

I took a deep breath to calm myself but held her gaze.

"I'm sorry, Callie. It just makes me so angry that you went through that. I'm not mad at you. I'm pissed at HIM." I told her, as softly as I could.

It just made me even angrier that I had to keep telling her that I wasn't mad with her. It shouldn't be this way.

She nodded once, just a subtle movement of her head.

"I know. I don't mean to react this way. You have a right to be mad at whatever you want. You have a right to yell or scream or do whatever. I'm not scared of you. It's just an automatic reflex when someone yells or gets angry. I just hate it so much. I'm sorry." She whispered, with tears streaming down her face.

She wasn't slurring anymore. She hadn't since she started telling me this part. I guess thinking about it sobered her up a little.

"I know." I reassured her. "It's okay. Don't be sorry."

She nodded again and bit her lip. She looked like a sad, lost little girl that just needed some comfort. Only I couldn't offer her any because she wouldn't let me touch her.

"It really wasn't that bad. I learned how to disconnect." She sighed. "I would just lie there, letting him do whatever he wanted, while my mind went somewhere else. The worst times were when he was on pills though. They made it hard for him to...finish. Sometimes, it would last for hours. I would get so sore, just waiting for it to be over. I remember, one time, my shoulder was fucked up. I was diagnosed with bursitis, which is just like inflammation of the fluid sacs in between your joints. It's painful as hell though. Anyway, I was in a sling and had to use ice packs a lot. Will still wanted to have sex. I told him that I didn't want to, because my shoulder hurt too much. He got upset, talked about how I never wanted to have sex and that I was just using it as an excuse. Then he started ignoring me but started slamming everything down that he touched. Like the cans of food while he was cooking, the glasses, and just anything and everything. He broke my little cat statue when he was cleaning the coffee table. He even broke the door jam, from slamming it so hard. So, I gave in. I just couldn't take it anymore. At first, I thought it would be okay. The pain wasn't so bad."