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“It’s Like I can never be clean enough. I still feel his hands…and if it isn’t his hands then it’s bugs. I just always feel it. Something is always touching me and it’s gross. It’s so fucking gross and I can never get rid of it.”
Dustin wasn’t exactly sure when this conversation started but he knew they were originally talking about El.
He was with Eddie, they planned to watch movies and hang out, just like before. Everything has been so messy since the upside down. Since the near deaths and the loss of so many people in town.
“You know, I’ve noticed a few things about you, Dustin. I just thought I should tell you that you’re not subtle.” Eddie laughed, letting his head fall back down as he lay with his legs over the back of the couch.
They were originally watching Short Circuit but if he was being totally honest…the movie was totally ass.
“What do you mean?” Dustin laughed, laying in the same position as Eddie.
“I’m just saying, are you a germaphobe or something? Or like one of those people that are scared of bugs?”
“What? No, why?”
Eddie shrugged, leaning back further so his head slightly touched the ground. “You just seem to avoid touching- like people and stuff. You totally freak out when Steve touches your shoulder. Plus, every time a bug lands on you, you basically go puke.”
Dustin pulled his legs down and sat up on the couch with his knees pulled to his stomach. “Yeah, it’s not like that though. I’m not a germaphobe or anything like that.”
“Oh?… oh.” Eddie sat up, “um…do you want to explain further? I mean, only if you want to. I can share something too.”
“Sure? I just don’t really know where to start…like, what do you want to know?”
“Why do you freak out when we touch you?”
“Woah- ok. Um, strong start don’t you think?” He dryly laughed, “it’s not important, I just don’t like being touched, ok?”
For some reason being asked- being reminded- made him feel fucking filthy. It was like he’d been dunked into a pile of goo that wouldn’t escape his body- his skin. He felt like he was on fire. He wanted to puke.
“…I- I don’t believe you, kid.” He began, a concerned expression flooding his face. “You don’t have to share, ok? I just want you to know that whatever it is- whatever happened…I wouldn’t judge you. You can lay whatever on me, I’m here to listen.”
He knew it was obvious. After all, you don’t just accept an offer only to stop and act like it never happened. The thoughts of talking about what happened- of exposing himself like this…it was terrifying. Sure, he’d shown them his vulnerable side more than once but this was a whole other level, this was trauma. A sad, filthy story. He was filthy.
“I- something…when I was a kid-.” He trailed off. He could feel his stomach churning, his breathing struggling. “When I was a kid something happened.”
Growing up he never really expanded past his social group. Not that it was a problem, he was a nerd- or in all honesty, a fucking loser. Unlike his peers, he didn’t grow up in Hawkins. His mother pulled them across county lines to escape his dad, she wanted to give him a better life, to keep him safe. She did what she could.
Being the new kid (and oddest-looking child) meant making friends wasn’t going to happen. He did have a friend though, mom's friend. He called him uncle Chris, he was awesome. He watched movies with him, let him get ice cream before bedtime, and even gave him comic books. He was also his babysitter and only friend. Everything he did was just cool . He was almost like a dad or older brother to him. He listened when he complained about school and did nothing but remind him that he was special. He personally never felt special but Chris insisted. He said he was handsome and different from everyone else, mature even.
The compliments were never really weird, not that he had much experience with father figures but he assumed that was part of having a dad- being complimented. It made him feel loved, cared for, wanted even. He felt important.
But that isn’t the only thing he’s remembered for.
No. He ruined his life. His body. He ruined him.
Mom bought pizza that night, and even rented some movies so they could all hang out. They spent time like this often, having a movie night on Friday together and just enjoying each other's company. Mom was just happy to have a day off and to see him laughing. All she ever wanted was for him to be happy, that’s why she always invited Chris over. She knew he loved spending time with him. He was practically part of the family.
After the second movie and a bowl of ice cream mom called it a night, kissing Dustin’s cheek goodnight and requesting that Chris make sure he didn’t stay up too late. They’d been watching Charlotte's Web- a Movie he's avoided since- when things got weird, gross. Chris was never really a hugger, he was affectionate but never in a touchy way. It was always a shoulder pat or thigh pat, literally just any pat. No hugs. That’s why when it happened it caught him off guard, and almost scared him.
“Hey, kiddo. You know I love you, right?” He asked, pulling Dustin’s attention away from the screen. As usual, he gave him a toothy grin and nodded, happy to hear those words. “You know, you’re a handsome little boy. Your mom must be so proud of you.” He smiled, tickling the boy as he laughed.
Dustin squirmed, laughing and pushing his hands away. He froze as he was pulled into a hug, it wasn’t rough or forceful- he’d just never been hugged by him before. After a few seconds, Chris pulled away, ruffling his hair as he smiled. It was nice. The moment was nice. Why did he have to ruin it? To do- that. Why did he have to hurt him?
The room went silent as Dustin returned his eyes to the screen, eager to find out what would happen to the spider. While it was nice to play with his uncle, he made him miss a solid five minutes of the movie.
That’s when he felt a hand on his knee. Not that that was weird, Chris did that a lot…but the hand traveled up and between his thighs. He wasn’t exactly touching him there but he was too close. He ignored it. Trying to focus on the move and pretend nothing was happening. After all, Chris wouldn’t hurt him. He loved him- he wouldn’t do that.
It didn’t matter though. He was wrong. So wrong. Chris hurt him and he enjoyed it, he loved it. He kissed his tears away and thanked him, reminding him to be quiet and not tell his mom. Like he said, “if you love me, you’ll let me.”
That night he sobbed into his pillow and pulled at his hair, begging for god to kill him. Everything hurt- his body, his mind, everything. He felt dirty, ruined, and pathetic. He wasn’t sure if what happened was wrong- he wasn’t sure if he was just being a kid. Chris said that sometimes love hurts- that it was normal but was this? Was he supposed to feel like this? Was he supposed to feel so filthy and ruined?
He locked his door before he slept and didn’t leave until he heard Chris’s car drive off. When he finally left he showered, scrubbing his body as hard as possible in an attempt to rid himself of the muck that littered his body. However, he wasn’t actually dirty. His brain was. His skin felt like it was coated in sludge, ruined and fixable. He wanted to rip it off- to bask in the gore of what was once his body. If only he could remove everything he touched- to be clean again.
It was silent after he told Eddie. The kind of silence that makes you want to hide. Was he disgusted with him? Did he blame him? Because sometimes he blamed himself. He should’ve told his mom- caught back. Literally anything. He should’ve tried harder. But he didn’t and now he has to deal with that. In a way he still loves Chris. I mean, he was his only friend, the only person who cared about him. He hurt him but he loved him. Genuinely loved him.
No.
No, that’s not true. He didn’t love him. He hurt and used him. He was a predator- a repulsive, disgusting pedophile. He hated him. Wanted him dead. He ruined his life- destroyed his childhood and practically killed him. He should’ve finished the job. He’d rather be rotting underneath a house than dealing with the damage he’s done.
“Eddie?” He finally spoke, feeling as his breathing quickened. He felt like he was drowning.
“I’m…I’m so- so sorry. I didn’t know- I wouldn’t have made those jokes or fucked with you like that if I did. I'm so sorry.”
Dustin quickly shook his head, attempting to reassure Eddie and empty his mind. “No- no it’s ok! It’s not your fault, it happens. I didn’t mean to upset you-.”
“What? No. No, you didn’t upset me. I just…” he stopped, unsure of what to say next. “When I was a kid my babysitter used to abuse me. Both sexually and physically. I never said anything to anyone, I don’t know why. When my parents noticed something was wrong they didn’t address it, they got mad instead, so I ran away. Moved in with my uncle and forgot about it. Though, you never really forget about that type of thing.” He dryly laughed, staring at the floor as he continued. “Instead of ignoring it, I told uncle Wayne. I didn’t think he’d believe me, but he did and he didn’t judge me or treat me differently. No, instead he cried and told me he was sorry. It wasn’t his fault, but it meant so much to hear someone apologize for what happened….”
“I’m sorry that happened- I didn’t know…I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize, just talk to me instead, huh? Maybe it’ll help you? Even if it’s just a small boost.”
Dustin nodded, “I just…a lot of things happened when I was growing up. A lot of bad things. I know half of it was out of my control but some of them were. There were things I could’ve stopped or tried harder to prevent but I didn’t do it. I feel like those things are my fault- I feel like what my uncle did was my fault. I mean, I didn’t fight him. I just…let him. I didn’t even tell my mom.” He teared up, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the curls. “Because of that, it’s like I can never be clean enough. I constantly feel dirty- I can still feel his hands. I feel so…ruined. It’s like, if it isn’t his hands then it’s bugs. I don’t even know why it’s bugs but I know I never feel clean. It’s like something is always touching me and it’s gross. It’s so fucking gross and I can never get rid of it.” He deeply inhaled and took a moment to catch his breath. He hadn’t realized he’d been crying.
Eddie nodded, offering his hand, which Dustin gladly took. If he kept blaming himself in this way then he might fall off the face of the earth. If he was going to continue then it’s best to help him find grounding. “I understand…but as you said, it’s not your fault. Even if you think there was more you could do, it’s just not true. You were a child. Hell, you’re literally still just a child. None of it was your fault, nothing could’ve changed it.”
“You know, in a way talking about all of this makes me feel better, more seen. But in another way, it makes me want to slit my wrist and finish the job.” He laughed, shaking his head as he squeezed Eddie’s hand. It had been a while since he felt safe- understood, but here he was. Sitting with his friend, sharing traumatic stories like nothiFunnily, it felt like they were exchanging spell book cards, arguing over who was going to attack the villain next…but that was comforting. This didn’t feel like I’m intervention or therapy session, it felt safe. Eddie made it feel safe.
Eddie scoffed, “shut up. It’s good to talk…even if it feels all sappy and gross. I used to really hate talking to Wayne about these things but it’s really helped me. You can talk to me, whenever. Or the hair, but I’d prefer it if it were me.” He smiled. “Can I hug you?”
Dustin nodded and leaned into the hug, thankful for the request for consent. It was the small things like that. They made him feel safe, like he had a choice in what happened to him.
In a silly way, he felt at peace. He was safe and was definitely going to be ok. He knew that, believed it. It gets better. Even when things feel like they’re ruined forever, it gets better. He could get better. He will get better. He’ll try and that’s good enough.