Forgive Us Our Sins (Moral Orel Fanfic)

Chapter 12

A stale, cold room.
A clock, ticking so loud you swore you could hear it from Alaska.
A couch.
A chair.

What do all of these things have in common? Nothing at first glance.

The sound of muffled questions floated around Orel's ears, almost blocking out the noise. Not out of ignorance and refusal, but because of an overwhelming feeling he felt. What is this feeling?

"Orel? Can you hear me?"
The 20 something snapped out of it. "What?" He asked. Orel was not listening to what they had asked beforehand. It was all muffled to him.

The tired man sighed, writing something down on his clipboard. Right beside him was a picture of the man's family. Smiling wide on a trip to.. what is that, a canyon? A mountain? Gosh, when was the last time he had been on a vacation?

"I-I'm sorry, I guess I kind of blocked out what you had been talking about just now." Orel looked frightened, nervous on what the man would say next.

Therapy is hard.

The therapist clasped his hands together and looked at Orel with a soft expression. "You don't have to apologize in here. You haven't done anything wrong, in fact you're basically my favorite client." He laughed.

Orel bit his lip, picking off the skin from his inner cheek. "I know, I just.. I feel bad." He explained.

"Orel, I want to ask something. Let me know if I am over stepping my boundaries or getting anything wrong." The therapist explained to the young brunette, to which he just nodded. "When you were a kid, you had questions that needed answers. Just like anyone, you just wanted an answer for what that was. Instead of a proper response, you were met with negligence or your father spanking you."

"And after that hunting trip-"
Oh fuck, the hunting trip. Orel tensed up, his leg bouncing in his seat.
"You just.. blocked out everything. I believe this could be a trauma response, especially now. You tense up, apologize excessively, and without knowing any better your brain attempts to stop the memory of the event at any moment. Does this sound right?"

Orel wanted to say no, obviously just ignoring what he had replied with.. but he was right. "Trauma response.. that makes so much sense." Orel reached for the tissues planted in the middle of the coffee table, already tearing up. "I was.. I was just a kid. I didn't deserve any of that." And there the floodgates opened. Orel was shaking and crying.

The therapist smiled gently "remember that grounding technique I taught you?" Orel nodded. He began to gently grab up and down his arms, placing his feet flat onto the ground and taking deep breaths. "I'm safe." He whispered. There was a time where Orel couldn't have people raise their voice at him without crying, or worrying that every time he didn't drink with his college friends that he was doing something wrong.

"Orel, have you ever heard of C-PTSD?" The therapist asked in a low tone. Orel shook his head "is it Christian related trauma? Because I definitely have that." He joked. "No, complex posttraumatic stress disorder. From my understanding, after being neglected for so long as a child, you began to delevope both C-PTSD and certain coping mechanisms.. A.E, going to church. When you were grounded from your only safe haven, you spiraled. Does this sound right to you?" He asked.

Orel nodded. He hated how right he was. He wanted to lash out, tearing things from the walls and smashing them to the ground. It was anger, but it wasn't directed at the therapist. It was directed at his family. His community.

"I want you to do some homework for me this week." The man reached into a small bag and handed him a little book. Orel reached for it and read the cover with a puzzled expression. Healing The Child Within. "Read this book, write your feelings down, and then report back to me next week. I believe inner child work could be beneficial to you."

"So I can be fixed?"

"No. So you can heal."

That's just what he did. Orel read the book front to back, highlighting entire pages at times. He had been hurting for so long, he wanted to feel better. But recovery is such a slow process.