All the Hidden Things by B. Hollidae

Author:B. Hollidae
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new adult, new adult romance, contemporary, contemporary romance, romance, sexual abuse, sex positivity, coming of age
Publisher: B. Hollidae
Published: 2019-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

12

Whether or not going to talk to a bunch of high school juniors about writing, which became me talking about my shitty life and how I wrote about it, helps my anxiety over talking on a panel to a bunch of people who I’ll have even less control over is still up for debate. One unexpected result is that I’ve started to get more questions and messages on my social media, which for the most part Zenobia continues to manage. After she came up to me and said she didn’t know how to answer some of the questions though, I decided to take a look for myself.

How did you get the courage to tell someone about your abuse?

Who did you tell?

How did you go about getting help?

My rapist is a family member and my family knows it and they’re still allowed in and out the house and at family events. What do I do?

I don’t know how much longer I can take this shit.

Then there are the private messages that aren’t questions, but people telling me stories that are similar to mine. A lot of them from other boys and men. Many of them that make my experiences look like a fucking walk through a flower field comparatively. I can see why Zenobia came to me and told me she didn’t know how to respond.

I start to tell her to just ignore the messages, but then I wonder what would have happened to me if people had ignored all the signals I gave that were begging for help even though I constantly denied needing or wanting it. What if Perla had given up on finding me or Akilah had shrugged me off or my frat, for all their not fully understanding, wasn’t supportive or had rejected me all together when I sought out some sense of brotherhood? What if they had ignored me like my mother had?

I’d be dead right now is what. Or nearly dead. Or in prison. Another statistic. Certainly not living a somewhat decent life. So I tell Zenobia that I’ll personally answer instead.

At first, I thought it would be difficult to bring up so much more about my abuse and everything afterwards in responding to all these messages. But strangely, it’s cathartic.

“What are you doing over there?” Akilah asks from where she is in pushup position on the floor.

We’re by ourselves in what Akilah now refers to as “our” gym and today is one of the three days a week she meets me here. Her dedication to training has surprised me. I honestly thought she would give up and lose interest after six weeks or so, but she’s stuck to the training at the very least and maybe half the time the diet I laid out for her. And while to her dismay, the scale still says 135 pounds, she has gotten smaller, toned, and a lot stronger than she used to be.

“Just responding to some stuff on Twitter and Instagram,” I reply without looking up from where I’m sitting on my laptop and supposed to be supervising her training.

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