It felt too awful to even think about the things that had
happened with his uncle. To tell anyone about it seemed
impossible.
Chris felt he had blown it years ago when he first let Bill spend so much time with him and his biggest mistake had been to let his uncle hug him. It seemed as if he had started it all and now he had to pay for it.
At times, Chris wondered if he had even wanted his uncle to do these things to him. After all, he hadn’t made him stop. Maybe he was gay? But he really didn’t like having sex with his uncle. What if there was something about him that made men want to have sex with him? Perhaps there was something wrong in his head, perhaps he was cracked or crazy.
The argument went on and on in his head. The part that said it was his fault and that he was bad and worthless got stronger and stronger. Sometimes he would catch himself answering it back out loud. He knew that talking to yourself was weird but since he thought he must be crazy anyway, it didn’t seem to matter.
The trouble was though, that the talking inside his head was pretty loud sometimes. It stopped him sleeping and occasionally he would realise people had been talking to him and he hadn’t heard them. He wondered if they had been talking about him. Once he had almost been run over by a car while crossing the street. He had been so busy listening to himself he hadn’t looked to see if there was any traffic.
He found it hard to be around his friends. They all talked about sport, music and girlfriends. He couldn’t join in any of these conversations. He spent a lot of time looking at their Facebooks; his newsfeed was full of shots of them going to parties and concerts and hanging out with each other. He found playing Call of Duty much easier. He could be someone else. A fantasy world was much easier than the real one. He could shut himself in his room for hours and no one bothered him. The people on the other end of the game had no idea who he was and he liked it that way.
He preferred to eat in his room so he didn’t interrupt his game. Sometimes he forgot to eat at all. He was often too tired to get to school in the mornings. His parents tried everything to get him there but eventually gave up. So he stayed in his room. Sometimes he would not emerge for days unless he needed to pee. One evening, on his way to the bathroom, the floor started coming up to meet him. He clutched at the wall but soon fell in a heap on the hall floor. His sister came home late and found him. The next he knew he was in hospital with a drip in his arm. He was severely dehydrated and his potassium levels were dangerously low because of lack of food. Medical staff kept coming to monitor him. They seemed alarmed about how serious his physical state was. Chris wasn’t alarmed. His whole body already felt dead. Dying for real would be a relief.
After a few days, he felt marginally better. The staff were very kind to him. He wondered if they’d still be kind if they knew him.
They were worried about how thin and malnourished he was. A psychiatric liaison registrar came to talk to him. Chris found this very difficult. He hadn’t had a conversation with a real person for a long time. The registrar made an appointment to meet with him after he was discharged. He didn’t want to attend, but he could see the worry etched all over the faces of his parents.
The registrar asked him a lot of questions. Chris found these difficult to answer. He longed for the refuge of his own room, but the registrar was persistent but gentle and Chris found, to his surprise, that he was starting to open up.
At one point, the registrar noted that Chris’s parents had told him that Chris had been an excellent student and sportsman up until year 10, when his whole personality suddenly changed. He wondered if Chris had any explanation for this.
Chris’s throat seized up. He desperately wanted to explain, but he also desperately didn’t.
Chris felt he had blown it years ago when he first let Bill spend so much time with him and his biggest mistake had been to let his uncle hug him. It seemed as if he had started it all and now he had to pay for it.
At times, Chris wondered if he had even wanted his uncle to do these things to him. After all, he hadn’t made him stop. Maybe he was gay? But he really didn’t like having sex with his uncle. What if there was something about him that made men want to have sex with him? Perhaps there was something wrong in his head, perhaps he was cracked or crazy.
The argument went on and on in his head. The part that said it was his fault and that he was bad and worthless got stronger and stronger. Sometimes he would catch himself answering it back out loud. He knew that talking to yourself was weird but since he thought he must be crazy anyway, it didn’t seem to matter.
The trouble was though, that the talking inside his head was pretty loud sometimes. It stopped him sleeping and occasionally he would realise people had been talking to him and he hadn’t heard them. He wondered if they had been talking about him. Once he had almost been run over by a car while crossing the street. He had been so busy listening to himself he hadn’t looked to see if there was any traffic.
He found it hard to be around his friends. They all talked about sport, music and girlfriends. He couldn’t join in any of these conversations. He spent a lot of time looking at their Facebooks; his newsfeed was full of shots of them going to parties and concerts and hanging out with each other. He found playing Call of Duty much easier. He could be someone else. A fantasy world was much easier than the real one. He could shut himself in his room for hours and no one bothered him. The people on the other end of the game had no idea who he was and he liked it that way.
He preferred to eat in his room so he didn’t interrupt his game. Sometimes he forgot to eat at all. He was often too tired to get to school in the mornings. His parents tried everything to get him there but eventually gave up. So he stayed in his room. Sometimes he would not emerge for days unless he needed to pee. One evening, on his way to the bathroom, the floor started coming up to meet him. He clutched at the wall but soon fell in a heap on the hall floor. His sister came home late and found him. The next he knew he was in hospital with a drip in his arm. He was severely dehydrated and his potassium levels were dangerously low because of lack of food. Medical staff kept coming to monitor him. They seemed alarmed about how serious his physical state was. Chris wasn’t alarmed. His whole body already felt dead. Dying for real would be a relief.
After a few days, he felt marginally better. The staff were very kind to him. He wondered if they’d still be kind if they knew him.
They were worried about how thin and malnourished he was. A psychiatric liaison registrar came to talk to him. Chris found this very difficult. He hadn’t had a conversation with a real person for a long time. The registrar made an appointment to meet with him after he was discharged. He didn’t want to attend, but he could see the worry etched all over the faces of his parents.
The registrar asked him a lot of questions. Chris found these difficult to answer. He longed for the refuge of his own room, but the registrar was persistent but gentle and Chris found, to his surprise, that he was starting to open up.
At one point, the registrar noted that Chris’s parents had told him that Chris had been an excellent student and sportsman up until year 10, when his whole personality suddenly changed. He wondered if Chris had any explanation for this.
Chris’s throat seized up. He desperately wanted to explain, but he also desperately didn’t.
