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The bruises had faded long ago, purple and blue splotches that pained Gerard with every movement. He was better now. He had physically recovered.
But why couldn’t he recover mentally?
He could still feel his hands on him, could feel them pinning him down by his shoulders, could feel them tracing the waistline of his pants-
He could feel them everywhere.
Gerard tried so hard to go back to normal. To act like it had never happened. He didn’t want his friends to know. He didn’t want them to find out that the reason he had vanished for three weeks was not a ‘road trip with bad wifi,’ but a stay in the mental hospital after he had tried to kill himself.
Avoidance was his best strategy. If he stayed away from every group gathering and hangout they had, then there was no way they would find out what happened. They had no way of telling if he was never around.
But his friends were insistent, and he ended up being persuaded into having a movie night at Frank’s place.
Nothing awful. Just him, Frank, Ray, and Mikey. There was nothing that could go wrong, nothing that could suddenly unveil the fact that he had been raped.
Even Mikey didn’t know the full truth. Gerard didn’t want to put that weight on his little brother. That wasn’t fair. They didn’t live together anymore, so it was easy enough to hide.
Gerard ceased his incessant pacing, realizing that it was time to go. He picked up his keys, making his way out to his car, trying desperately not to let any of the apprehension he felt creep onto his face.
Go there, be quiet. Speak only when spoken to. Laugh when others laugh. Mirror, mirror, mirror. Be normal.
Ignore the hands.
He repeated the last sentence over and over again in his head, a grim mantra that was far easier said than done. He channeled his whole focus into it, and before he knew it, he had arrived at Frank’s house, guided by the muscle memory of having driven there a thousand times prior.
Ignore the hands.
They aren’t him.
Gerard was the last to arrive, having lost track of time due to his earlier spiraling. He opened the door hesitantly, flinching when Ray immediately called out to him.
“Gerard!” the curly-haired man shouted. He was lounging on the couch, phone in hand. “We’ve been waiting for you to get here before we ordered pizza. What toppings do you want?”
It was too loud in there. Too much, all at once. He wanted to bolt, wanted to throw open the door that had just clicked shut behind him and take off running.
He forced himself to take a step forward, which proved to be harder than he thought. His feet had become rooted to the floor, his body frozen with anticipation.
Gerard pushed a grin out onto his lips, dragging the corners of his mouth upwards before replying. “I’m cool with whatever. No need to order anything weird for me.”
Was his voice too airy, too high pitched? Gerard believed it was, but he seemed to be the only one who thought so. Ray had bought his act, turning to dial on his phone, and Frank and Mikey didn’t mention anything either.
Gerard pushed himself to move forwards again, going pale as he watched Mikey and Frank flop onto the couch. That left one spot, one small sliver of a seat that he would have to shove himself into.
They aren’t him, they aren’t him, they aren’t him.
Ignore the hands, they aren’t him.
By some grace of god, Frank jumped to his feet again, going to retrieve something from the kitchen. Maybe drinks, he didn’t know. He hadn’t been paying attention, too fixated on convincing himself everything was fine.
He took advantage of Frank’s departure, throwing himself down in the open spot and pressing himself into the edge of the couch so Mikey wouldn’t accidentally touch him or something.
Frank returned quickly, though, arms full of beer cans, which he passed out to Mikey, Ray and Gerard. The group opened their cans, beginning to sip at them as they talked, but Gerard couldn’t bring himself to take a sip.
They’ll get you drunk, like he would, and then they’ll-
They aren’t him, they aren’t him, they aren’t him.
He forced his shaking fingers to pop the tab, refusing to take a sip but at least creating the illusion that he was drinking the alcohol.
Frank picked up the TV remote, and then, to Gerard’s horror, squeezed into the empty space on the couch.
Gerard could feel every place the man’s skin came in contact with his own. He felt his body lock up involuntarily, and it took every bone in his body not to leap up right then and there.
He couldn’t listen as the other guys chose the movie, and after a while he realized he was dissociating. It was a tactic he had used when he had been raped, and even once the man who took advantage of him was gone, he couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.
And then he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders.
He didn’t think. He jumped to his feet, a startled cry escaping his lips. He could feel himself trembling, his vision blurring as his eyes filled with tears.
It took Gerard a moment to realize that the room had gone silent, the three other men staring at him with horrified expressions as he stood there shaking.
“Gee?” Mikey whispered tentatively, getting to his feet. He reached out a hand towards his brother, but Gerard cowered away from his touch, “Gee, what’s wrong?”
He shook his head. They weren’t supposed to know, They were never supposed to find out.
Frank had stood as well, and he took a step closer to Gerard. He looked scared, like the trembling man was a wounded animal that would run off if he moved too quickly.
That was exactly what Gerard felt like.
That’s all that was left of him.
A wounded animal that would never fully heal. An animal trapped in a cage.
A cage he would never escape.