#Honestly this feels unreal to discuss too heh

[chaoticcutiewhirl]

Honestly, we don't know what may have caused us to be us, to be like a book, I guess. Sylvia would be better at explaining it, but life feels like one of those greek stories of smaller stories that connect, we felt aware of each other for a long time, been questioning it for 2 or 3 years and it inly recently broke open. Rowan believes we are very much trauma related, but it's hard to recall for the whole group on memory from when we were young, but the body definitely doesn't feel like it's our own. Crippling fear and paranoia has been a constant feeling we have had, Transphobia and Homophobia keeps us fron transitioning until we can leave the house we live in, and generally we are very sick a lot of the time with the medical care system often being of less help. Avarstia and Rowan are kinda both guardians, more logically driven and always observation on the mind, just one has the words while the other has action. Me and Sylvia are like emotional avalible, like friends we never really had, being left alone without anyone but ourselves most of the time leaving for us to be more creative and heh. Katelyn is the newest, and I guess could be seeking normalcy to hide within even if she hates fronting. Just guesses as we feel the need to justify given even though we all feel distinct, we feel like this is a trick on ourselves even if it is just me and Sylvia like this. The loneliness and fear have lessened, but it feels unreal ever still given now we are likely we.

-🌵 Lucinda (She/Her Bunny :3)

I just desperately want more recognition of traumagenic experiences that lie outside of the usual "childhood abuse" assumption that everyone forces on that label. what about trauma from bullying? what about trauma from undiagnosed illnesses? what about trauma from queer experiences like transphobia? what about trauma from medical experiences like surgeries, hospitalizations, psych wards, and other areas where the medical field failed you? what about trauma from eating disorders? what about trauma from racism?

there are so many experiences that can fall under traumagenic, but are yet swept under a rug in favor of a strict, stereotypical narrative that's easier to comprehend. I think we as a community need to make an active effort to expand our understanding of traumagenic, especially where it may overlap with experiences traditionally considered endogenic, and understand that trauma can come in so many different forms. so often people are shunned for trying to create roles and labels that describe their specific traumagenic experiences, and I don't understand why. there can be no progress towards acceptance for all systems if we don't accept that traumagenic is an umbrella label too.

[sacredwrath]

P17. A Crack In The Mask

Finally! Sorry this took so long heh

Past torture discussed, beating, ptsd flashback, unreality, thinking caretaker is whumper

For a second Jesse doesn't recognize him.

Their stomach flips, did Logan bring back the wrong man?

He's half naked, chained to the wall, with a brutal tapestry of wounds covering his body. They can't look at it.

They didn't think this through. Didn't think it would be this bad- how had Logan-

But then he looks up at them, greasy hair falling away from his face, and he grins. Definitely the right man

“Jesse!” There's a new rasp to his too cheerful voice but it still makes their blood run cold and their muscles sieze in fear.

This was a mistake

“Come on in. Don't worry,” he gives his chains a vicious tug “I can't hurt you anymore. Not like this.” he grins like a wolf over a fresh kill. As if he needs his hands to do damage

Jesse tries to swallow but their mouth is too dry. They're sure he can hear the painful click of their throat. They lick their lips instead and try again

“Morgan.” Their voice is little more than a whisper but at least it's steady.

“Jesse.” He repeats not quite mocking

They stare at him. How can this be the same man? His eyes are black and swollen, lips bleeding. Dark bruises and what looks like scratches circle his neck and are scattered across his torso, ribs, and thighs. His lower legs are bandaged from ankles to knees but blood seeps through in places. He's covered in blood, dirty with it. Most has dried into brownish smears but some still glistens red and wet.

They'd wanted to see him like this. Hoped seeing him helpless and afraid would make them feel safe again, but even beaten bloody and chained to the wall he doesn't look afraid.

They still feel afraid

“So…” he says, too casually. “What brings you here? I've been asking about you, but your friends have been… evasive.”

“I wanted to see you.” good. Steady and calm, still quiet, but they sound more in control than they feel. They can't show him weakness

“I told them you would. The idiot blonde, what's his name?”

They scoff “you think I'd resist telling you all those months just to give up and start giving out names now?”

He shrugs, “things change.” He rattles the chains again. “If you don't want it getting back to my bosses you can just kill me.”

“Don't think I won't.”

“Oh I know you would. And if not you, the idiot blonde definitely will. Is that why you're here? Alone? Don't want the idiot to claim your kill?”

“No- I-” why are they here? They wanted to see him, yes, but alone? In secret? It's not wrong to want to see him. Is it? Standing here now the whole endeavor seems insanely stupid. Why would they come down here without backup? They should have just been firm with Logan and Isa. Should have told them they were coming down here like it or not, but they were afraid they'd stop them. Stupid! They aren't ready for this. They want to leave him hanging. Walk right out the door and never hear his fucking voice or see his wolfs grin again. But now that they're here it's like their legs are made of lead. Anchored to the spot, too heavy and weak to carry them from the room.

“You came down here to rough me up a little didn't you?”

They recoil at the suggestion. “What! No!”

He raises an eyebrow “Don't be embarrassed. It's only natural.”

Natural? They'd thought it'd be cathartic at least, to see him like this, but then why do they feel so nauseous?

“You fucking heros I swear to god!” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Every time the idiot beats me he looks sicker than I do. It's honestly pathetic. You'd think after years of sending us to those damn prisons you'd all be used to getting a little blood on your hands.”

They don't know what to say

His expression darkens, carefree grin turning to a sneer “You really don't want to? After everything I did to you?” He hesitates “You didn't forget, did you? You do remember what I did to you?”

“Stop it” they can't think about it. Not here. Not in front of him. It's taking everything they have not to remember it. To remind themself that now he's the one in chains.

“You remember how many times I beat you? Whipped you? Broke your fingers? Remember when I pulled your fingernails off? When I broke your leg? Remember begging me not to?” He puts on a whiny falsetto “oh please Adrian please don't do it, please stop.”

“Stop” they mimic, quieter, knowing they're giving him exactly what he wants.

“That's it.” He croons.

They're going to cry. They can feel it. A choking hot coal in their throat burning the back of their eyes. Shit. They reach out for the wall trying to steady themself. Remembering to slow their breathing

“That's it.” He purrs again, “slow breaths.” He matches their pace with his own loud breathing. Eyes bore into them, but his voice is still gentle “Remember how it felt when I whipped you. Remember feeling your skin tear open. The pain. Feeling like it's going to rip you apart? Like the shock alone might kill you? Do you remember how it felt begging me to stop and knowing I wouldn't?” They remember. Of course they do. They still feel the phantom pain in their body every time they move or breathe. “And after all that, you really don't want to hurt me? Give me a taste of my own medicine?” He waits for them to say something but they can't focus, burning tears welling in their eyes.

“Tell me the truth!” He barks, voice taking on the exact tone they're used to.

They snap. They aren't in the basement anymore. He isn't the one chained to the wall. He's standing over them as they're huddled on the floor.

He's going to hurt them.

He is hurting them.

They feel the whip against their back, their leg breaking, remembered agony mixing with the real lingering pain.

He's laughing at them. Watching them writhe on the floor soaked in their own blood and tears.

“That's it Jesse. There you are. This is what I made you-”

The cell door slams open

“It must be so exhausting.” his voice rising to a scream “pretending for your little friends. Pretending you're the same person who went away. Pretending you're still a person at all- oof”

Jesse is screaming, or are they? They can't hear themself over the panic in their head. Everything feels like it's happening in slow motion.

The wet thump of fists on a body

Jesse can't remember where they are.

Are they being beaten again?

It hurts

They open their eyes. Across the room Morgan's legs give out. His feet scrabble at the floor desperately trying to regain his footing. Logan's screaming in his face, something unintelligible, far away.

There's blood everywhere, so much blood. They feel it on their skin. On their face, wetness, maybe it's tears. They shrink further into the corner, whimpering in terror, each blow feels like it's landing on them.

Blood flies from Morgan's lips spattering across their face

Like they're in a dream they reach up to touch it. Their fingers come away red

Morgan is staring right at them. Their eyes lock and his face suddenly feels inches from their own.

Something shifts and it's like they're seeing him for the first time

Black swollen eyes, red stained lips contorted into a snarl of pain he's trying desperately to control.

He yelps, a short sharp sound, and they watch the mask crack, revealing a flicker of terror so raw and familiar it feels like their own.

For a second it's like they're seeing into him.

His sneer brittle and sloppily plastered on to cover the lapse. Hollow laughter forced out instead, sharp with broken edges. The mask meticulously crafted to appear care free forced over something worse, something broken.

They've been reading him wrong all this time

This man was never strong. Never the confident powerful figure they'd grown to fear. It's suddenly so obvious they feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Everything about him, the nonchalance, exaggerated to an almost cartoonish level. Of course none of it was real. They couldn't see the mask till they saw it crack but now they can see the creature underneath

Pain, fear, hopelessness, perfectly mirroring back to them every feeling he inflicted. It makes them sick

“STOP IT!!” they scream hands flying up to cover their ears. Its too much, they cant stand it anymore. If he won't scream they'll start.

They shriek it over and over

It's him it's them they can't tell where they start and he ends

Logan looks at them. blood dripping from his fists his face alive with fury. they cower from him. Cringing away every muscle in their body rigid with the terror behind Adrian's eyes. A cornered animal with nowhere to run they wait for the blows, but Logan is frozen.

Their screams turn to panicked sobs and Adrian starts laughing. It grates across their ears, different than before. No longer the alien sound of a mad man but the brittle hollow screech of already shattered glass. No less mad, but this time they feel it. They've been there, they've felt that same madness, trapped, alone, hurting, trying to fight off the pain in the only way they can

They want to be sick but instead try to gather themself and look up to meet his eyes. “I see you Adrian Morgan” their voice empty. As hollowed out as his own.

The smile twists from his face into a snarl of pure hate.

And then Isa is there. Strong arms wrapping around them. Gentle hands combing through their hair. Soft words that Jesse can't hear as they guide them to shakey feet and usher them from the cell

They turn back, giving Adrian a final look. Rage, contempt, pain, longing, disgust, all twisting his face into a mask of itself so false and confused it's impossible to separate from the face beneath.

They look away, letting them themself be pulled from the cell.

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