That's What You Get

Chapter Five: The Weight of Silence

The memories of before Pete and Mikey separated had spilled into his mind as he sat with his therapist. He sat on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped so tightly in his lap that his knuckles were turning white. The therapist's office was quiet, unnervingly quiet. The only sound he could focus on was the ticking of the grandfather clock on the wall. 2:15pm. The afternoon sun beamed through the plastic blinds, leaving stripes across the wooden floor. He stared at the lines on the floor, a drained expression on his face.

"Have I ever told you how it started?" He asked quietly.

His therapist, Irene, shook her head. She didn't speak up yet, but he knew he was safe to talk. After what seemed like forever, and what was actually only a few minutes, Mikey broke the silence once more.

"It started with yelling," He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just yelling."

Irene didn't interrupt him. She sat in a high-backed chair across from him, her laptop resting untouched on her knees. She appeared patient and focused on what he was saying.

"I kept telling myself that everyone argues. It made sense. He was stressed, I wasn't listening enough. If I just did more, kept the house cleaner, remembered the groceries, maybe he'd stop." Mikey's cleared his throat, leaning back into the couch.

His eyes wandered over to the window, peering through the blinds, as if he was searching for something.

"The first time he really lost it, he shoved me off his lap.. It was our anniversary, he'd come home drunk.. I thought it was celebratory.. It wasn't.." He let out a dry laugh, running hand through his hair.

"When I hit the floor, I stared up at him confused. I couldn't wrap my head around him hurting me. Later that night he threw a coffee mug at my head. It shattered against the wall behind me... I told him it was okay. He said he missed on purpose.. He didn't."

His voice broke ever so slightly, and he paused to gather his thoughts. He let out a shaky breath.

"It only got worse after that... He'd go ballistic over the smallest things. He screamed over everything. He'd take my phone, delete contacts. He cut me off from any and everybody who could help me, except Dani. He started hitting, kicking, locking me in the dog crate.. I haven't owned a dog since he went to jail.."

Mikey finally looked up at Irene, his eyes were red, but dry.

"I never spoke up about it because I mean, look at me.. I'm tall, I'm fit, I should be able to take care of myself, and yet there I was, cowering beneath him everyday for six years... And sometimes I still wonder if I did the right thing by going to Dani that night he kicked me out..."

Mikey shook his head slightly, his hands wringing in his lap. The room was still again, a never ending silence. The loudest noise being the clock ticking endlessly away.

"Maybe I deserved it..." He breathed out.

Irene leaned forward, her voice calm, yet certain. She reached a hand out slowly and carefully, resting it ok Mikey's shoulder.

"You didn't deserve any of it, Mikey. Reaching out isn't what ruined Pete's life. His actions did that alone. Speaking up, reaching out, is brave. Seeking help, even now, is brave."

Something inside Mikey cracked just then, not loudly, but enough. His shoulders dropped gently as if he had finally rolled a boulder off of them after years of carrying it with him. He wasn't quite yet crying, but for the first time in years, he didn't look like he was holding his breath anymore.

Mikey sat in the silence that followed, Irene's words sinking into him, slowly unwinding the tension that had coiled itself around his body for so long. He let the words hover in the space between them, unable to immediately respond.

For a while, all Mikey could do was stare at his hands, still tightly clasped together, though the white knuckles had started to loosen. His breathing was deeper now, less shallow, and for the first time in a long while, the weight on his chest felt a little lighter. He could feel the shift in himself, though it was just the beginning.

"I... I don't know if I can really believe it, though," Mikey said softly, his voice raw from all the emotion he'd just let out. "Not yet." He hesitated, glancing up at Irene, a vulnerability in his eyes that was rare. "I've been carrying this guilt for so long. For being weak, for not leaving sooner, for being stuck in that... thing with Pete. I don't even know how to just... let go of it."

Irene nodded, never pushing but offering a quiet understanding. She allowed him the space to speak, knowing that the journey to acceptance wasn't a straight line.

"Mikey," she said gently, her voice like a steady anchor, "it's normal to feel like that. You've lived in a world where the blame was placed on you, and for a long time, you carried that as your truth. But that doesn't mean it was the truth, only the lie you were made to believe."

Mikey looked at her for a moment, his face conflicted. He wanted so badly to accept it, but the old patterns, the ingrained thoughts from years of abuse, made it hard to let go. Still, something inside him wanted to try.

"I don't even know who I am without him," Mikey whispered, almost to himself, the confession slipping out before he could stop it. "Pete's been there for so long. Even when it was bad, I didn't know how to live without him. And now I'm... free, but it feels empty. Like there's this huge space in me, and I'm not sure how to fill it."

Irene's gaze softened. She understood the complexity of what he was saying, the emotional dependency that so often forms in abusive relationships, even when the abuse is suffocating.

"You're not empty, Mikey," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You've been surviving for so long. Surviving is different from living, but you're here now, with a chance to heal. You're starting to remember who you are outside of Pete, and that process takes time. It's not about filling the space. It's about learning to be okay with the space, learning to let yourself grow into who you are now, without the weight of everything you've carried."

Mikey's throat tightened at her words, the truth of them sinking deep. He felt an overwhelming swell of emotion rise up in his chest: sadness, relief, guilt, hope, until he could barely breathe under the weight of it all.

"I'm scared," he admitted in a barely audible voice. "Scared of being alone... scared that I won't ever get past it. That I'll always be this broken version of myself."

Irene smiled softly, the kind of smile that was both comforting and knowing. "Being afraid is okay. It's okay to be scared of what's ahead. But you don't have to face it alone. You have people who care about you, Mikey. People like Dani, people who've been there for you. And me, too. We're all here to help you piece things back together."

Mikey took a shaky breath, looking at her, his chest tight but no longer suffocating. For the first time in so long, he felt something other than dread: the smallest seed of hope, tucked away but growing.

He gave a small, tentative nod. "Yeah... I guess I do have people. I just... I don't know how to let them in."

"You will," Irene said gently, the certainty in her voice clear. "One step at a time."

The grandfather clock ticked on, its rhythm steady, a reminder that time was passing, and Mikey was beginning to take those small steps forward. Slowly, cautiously, but steadily.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for today.