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Author's Chapter Notes:

Here you go: the conclusion. And Justin WILL get his HEA; although it might not be the ending you expected, it's the best ending for HIM. Trust me on this one, guys . . . TAG

PS. While writing the body of this chapter I realized the intro I'd posted with Ch 22 belonged here, so I've repurposed it for my ending and I wrote a new intro for Ch 22. Sorry if I confused anyone. 


Chapter 25 - Brand New.



Some of the world’s most amazing natural architecture is made up of sandstone. 



The beauty of sandstone is that it’s hard - it’s a rock, right? - but it’s not THAT hard. It can be worn away into all sorts of intricate and breathtaking shapes by the effects of water and wind. So, where once you had a huge, solid, block of stone, with enough time you can carve it away into fanciful pillars, swirls, and even complex arches. 


That’s sorta how I picture my own self-esteem.


You start off as a child and your personality, your personal ethics, and your talents slowly accrue, building you up into the person you were meant to be. The adult you emerge as is like that initial sandstone mountain. Then, slowly, you start to erode. 


It doesn’t usually happen very quickly. You’re pelted with tiny specks of sand that wear away the rough edges of your initially solid beliefs. Maybe there’s a bit of drama in your life and, like a flood, there are some major inroads made into your heart, but eventually it passes and you carry on, only slightly altered. However, as the erosion continues, all the protective barriers that were shielding you start to disappear as well, allowing the forces assaulting you to do greater and greater damage.


Then along comes a narcissist and it’s like exposing that block of sandstone to a never-ending windstorm that sandblasts away everything in its path. 


The solid bedrock of your sense of self gets chipped away almost overnight. You thought you were strong. You thought you could withstand almost anything. But there’s a soft heart to your make up that, with the right amount of pressure, will inevitably give way under that kind of relentless abuse. 


Holes and gaps start to appear and he’ll be quick to capitalize on those apparent weaknesses. He’ll worry at each miniscule fissure, picking at it, pounding at it, worrying away at your substance, tearing you down particle by particle, until there’s a gap large enough to get a firm hold on you. That’s when the real destruction begins.


Before you know it, you’ve become contorted into the most amazing shapes - bending over backwards for the person who’s abusing you - until you don’t even remotely resemble the person you started out as. That original you, that solid block of your selfness, is gone forever. You can never go back to being that person you were before. There are holes in your psyche that can’t be healed. There are so many wounds you could never count them all. You come out the other side a completely different person. 


It’s a painful transformation. Some don’t survive the process. They get worn down so much that they eventually wash away in the flood. They succumb to the overwhelming forces that assail them. They surrender. They are lost and forgotten.


But if you do manage to survive, you might find that you are a more beautiful person. Yes, those wounds are still there, and you’ve been twisted in ways you never could have predicted, but underneath you discover a strength that nothing could break. A backbone of stone. 



The trick is to weather the storm without being obliterated.



I spent a week at the Mercy Center in their mental health unit. I’d asked for help and they gave it to me. It was the best decision I’d ever made in my adult life, even though it was also one of the hardest.


The first couple of days, pretty much all I did was sleep. I also saw the doctor, got tested for all sorts of STIs and was prescribed medicine for my cold, which had progressed to bronchitis by that point. After I was done with the regular doctor, I met with both a psychiatrist and a therapist. They started me on anti-anxiety meds, with the goal of stabilizing my moods, and set up a daily therapy schedule for me. The good news was that all my tests came back negative and that, along with the almost twenty-five hours of sleep I got in those first couple of days, went a long way to reducing my anxiety even before the pills kicked in. 


The other good news was that Brian had never taken me off his insurance plan, so all this amazing care was actually covered. I hadn’t realized that fact earlier, since Ethan had been the one picking up my allergy prescriptions at the pharmacy. That pissed me off all over again because I could have been going to the doctor and the physical therapist that whole time instead of freaking out about being too poor to see a doctor. When I asked Brian why he’d never cancelled me off his plan, he just shrugged and said he’d been waiting to confirm I’d gotten other insurance. 


Speaking of Brian, he came to see me every day I was at Mercy. I guess we’ve come a long way from the days when I was in doubt as to whether or not he cared. As hospital visitors go, he’s excellent; he brought me outside food and we talked about mostly inconsequential things. Thankfully Brian’s not the type to fuss at you or press you to make plans or say ‘I told you so’ - I couldn’t have handled any of that shit right then - which made him the only visitor I allowed in. 


The other person who TRIED to visit, unfortunately, was Ethan. Which totally freaked me out, because I hadn’t told him - or anyone else other than Brian - where I was. So, on my second day at Mercy, when the front desk attendant sent someone to tell me I had a visitor, I thought it was Brian and eagerly trotted out to the reception area, only to stop dead in my tracks when I saw the very last person in the world I wanted to see. 


“Babe! Finally. I've been trying to get in to see you all morning but these morons made me wait till visiting hours. What the fuck are you doing in this place?” Ethan exclaimed as he practically leapt out of the chair in the corner of the waiting area where he’d been sitting.


I immediately started to back away, only stopping when my back bumped up against the edge of the counter atop the reception desk. Luckily, the attendant was watching and seemed to divine my moment of panic. She quickly got up and came around the desk, positioning herself between myself and Ethan.


“Oh, sorry, Justin,” she intervened. “But before you get started on your visit, I forgot to tell you that Dr. Vinton asked me to get your vitals. Do you mind coming back to the nursing station for just a bit?” Then she turned to address Ethan briefly. “I promise we’ll only be a minute or two.”


Ethan looked like he was going to argue with the woman, but my friendly protector didn’t give him a chance. She bustled me off, back through a door marked ‘staff only’, into a part of the office where patients weren’t generally admitted. Then she sat me down in a chair in the corner, picked up the phone off a nearby desk, and quietly said a few words into the receiver. I wasn’t paying attention to exactly what she said, because I was still freaking out over Ethan showing up to get me. However, a few seconds later I heard an announcement coming over the loudspeaker system that operated throughout the unit. 


“Elissa, Code 22. Elissa, Code 22. Clark, Code 22. Clark, Code 22.” 


For all intents and purposes, this sounded like the kind of announcement you’d hear in any hospital anywhere, and most visitors would just ignore it. The only reason this particular announcement caught my attention was that ‘Elissa’ was the name of the therapist who’d been assigned to my case. We’d already spent several long, tear-filled, hours together, with me spilling my guts to her about my entire life history. So, when I heard her name, I suspected the announcement might have something to do with me.


Right on cue, ten seconds later, both Elissa and a burly hospital orderly I hadn’t met yet came in through the rear entrance to the office. 


Elissa and my protectress whispered together for half a minute before Elissa came over and knelt down beside my chair. “Hey, Justin. Carrie said you were a little upset with your latest visitor. Is everything okay?”


I was shaking my head ‘no’ before she even finished her question. “No. No, I can’t see him. I can’t. I just . . .” 


I was breathing so hard by that point I was practically hyperventilating. Elissa put a comforting hand on my shoulder, her thumb rubbing little circles through the material of the scrub shirt I’ve been given to wear. She reminded me to breathe, counting slowly, one, two, three, four . . . one, two, three, four . . . Until I’d finally calmed down enough that I was able to think.


“It’s Ethan. I don’t know how he found me, but he’s here.”


“This is the guy you’ve been telling me about? The one you were living with?”


“Yes. But I don’t know how he found me. I haven’t told anyone I was here. Brian is the only one who knows, and that’s only because he was with me when I checked in. How did he find me?”


“Hmmm.” Elissa paused to think for a couple seconds. “You mentioned something about that before, when we were talking. You said that, the night of your last argument, you couldn’t figure out how Ethan had known that your friend Brian been to the apartment?” I nodded. “And now, somehow, he’s tracked you to the hospital? I smell a rat, Justin. Or maybe a bug?”


Elissa got up and went to whisper with Clark and Carrie for another minute or so. Clark went over to stand next to the door leading out to the lounge area, peeking through the window as if keeping watch on the waiting area outside. Carrie, meanwhile, took out her keys and unlocked a large metal cabinet in the corner, pulling out a plastic bag that had my name written on it in Sharpie. She dug around inside for a minute before pulling out my phone.


Elissa took my phone out of Carrie’s hand and came back to sit down next to me. “Do you have any files or contacts or phone numbers on this that aren’t backed up somewhere? Anything that you’d be devastated to lose?”


“No. I think it all backs up regularly to the cloud. Anything that isn’t backed up, I suppose I can either re-create or live without.”


“Good,” she replied as she tapped around on the screen for a few minutes until she seemed to find whatever it was she was looking for. ”Now, let’s see . . . My girlfriend’s a techie, and she told me once how to do this, but it’s been awhile . . . Ah ha! . . . I was afraid of that.” 


She held the phone up so I could see the display and pointed to two app icons at the bottom of the displayed list that I’d never seen before. 


“It looks like somebody has installed spy apps on your phone. Your boyfriend’s probably been using this to track you.” She tapped a couple more spots, shaking her head. “This one’s even been given access to the mic, meaning he could be listening in to your phone calls and maybe even in-person conversations.” Elissa looked over to where Clark was still watching through the door. “We still good over there, Clark?”


“He hasn’t pulled out his phone yet. I think we’re still okay.”


“Good,” Elissa smiled reassuringly at me. “So, what we’re gonna do is reset your phone to the original factory settings. It’ll wipe off all your files and apps. But it should also take out the spy apps. Then we’re going to power this off and leave it off until you can get your phone number changed. That should cut him off. Just be sure you don’t give out your new phone number to anyone you don’t one hundred percent trust, because as long as he has your number he could access your phone remotely and reinstall the apps without your knowledge.”


I watched, dumbfounded, while my techie therapist did her thing, tapping away at the little device with a smile on her face. “He’s been spying on me,” I repeated, just to hear the words out loud. “That fucker’s been spying on me.”


“I’m afraid so, Justin,” Elissa confirmed. “Unfortunately, it happens a lot in abusive relationships. In the old days, the abusers would have to physically follow you, but thanks to modern technology and cell phones, they can track you electronically now.”


“But, why?”


“From everything you’ve told me, Ethan sounds like a classic narcissist,” Elissa explained, which was the first time I’d ever heard the term, at least as it applied to ME. “That kind of person has an overwhelming need to control almost everything their victims do or say. So he bugged your phone. Those apps let someone track your location via GPS, listen in on your conversations, even access your texts and voicemail. You mentioned that your friend - what was her name, Daphne? - she accused you of not returning her calls? I’d bet good money that Ethan blocked her phone number to try and isolate you from her. It’s textbook stuff.”


It all made sense after that. All the odd coincidences. Right from the very beginning, Ethan had been showing up in unexpected places, turning up wherever I looked, playing on the street corner along whatever route I’d taken. Then there was the way he’d say things to me that seemed like he’d picked the words right out of prior conversations I’d had with other people. Like the time he’d recited back, almost word for word, the conversation I’d had with Michael about how I wanted ‘a boyfriend who only wants to be with me’. Or that line he used on me once about the ‘art coming through me’, which was something I’d said to my friend Paul after class about a week earlier. Or the way he knew things he shouldn’t have, like how I’d been a go-go dancer for a brief while. Or the way he knew things about Brian, things I’d said to him in private that NOBODY else on earth could possibly know. 


The fucker had obviously been stalking me right from the first day we’d met. He’d been hunting me. And all the while I’d thought it was just serendipity; chance circumstances bringing together two like-minded, artistic souls. Nope. It had all been a total sham. He’d targeted me, spied on me, and then used the information he’d gathered to acquire me. The motherfucking asshole.


“He’s getting antsy out there,” Clark interrupted my building rage. “What do you want me to do?”


“I’m assuming you don’t want to talk with him, right?” Elissa asked me. 


“Hell, no! If I never see him again it’ll be too fucking soon,” I declared. 


“Carrie, call security and have them send somebody down to back up Clark. I’ll take Justin to my office until the coast is clear. And then, Clark, you can escort the fucker off the premises, please.” 


And that was that; Ethan was thrown out and told he wasn’t welcome to return.


The rest of the week went by peacefully without any further drama. It was nice. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that sense of peace. While I was at Mercy, I didn’t have to worry about anything except getting my head cleared out. I ate the food I was given, took my meds, went to therapy sessions and classes with the rest of the patients, discussed how to deal with depression and anxiety, did yoga classes and discovered meditation, talked with my therapist for hours, and learned a lot about narcissistic abuse. I also slept a lot, which was what I needed more than anything, because you can’t think rationally if you’re not getting enough sleep. It was like getting a reset on my life. 


Going to Mercy and asking for help was the smartest thing I’d ever done. 


After I’d been there five days, I finally called my mother and Daphne and told them what had happened. There was a lot of crying, especially when I had to tell them that I’d been suicidal. But Elissa was there with me and she helped smooth things over. We had a joint therapy session right then and there, with Elissa explaining to my mom and best friend that they were going to be my main support system after I left Mercy and listing what their responsibilities would be. We put together a safety plan so I wouldn’t run the risk of getting to that bad place again without knowing I had lifelines to save me. It was a difficult afternoon, but I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders when it was done. 


The last day of my stay, Elissa and I worked out a life plan for me. It was great. I’d been drifting along without much of a plan ever since I’d left home my senior year of high school, something I now realized had negatively contributed to a lot of my self-doubt and depression. My new plan took care of all of that and gave me back a sense of control over my own life and my own future. Elissa made me draw the whole plan out on a poster-sized piece of paper, which I was instructed to hang on the wall when I got home, so I could visualize everything and wouldn’t forget any of my goals. I really liked my new plan.


Everyone agreed that I would temporarily be moving in with Daphne as soon as I left Mercy, but I had a six month goal to find my own place, something I desperately needed in order to feel safe again. Ever since my father had thrown me out, I’d been trundling around from one place to another, never really staying anywhere long enough to feel like I had a real home. I’d never had a place of my own. So, that was the highest priority item of my new plan. It didn’t matter how tiny or cheap it was, but I needed my own place. My own safe haven.


The next step was to become financially independent. This was a much longer term goal and would take quite a while to reach. In the meantime, my mother convinced me to let her help. I was reluctant to take her money, knowing how hard she had to work to support herself and Molly, but Mom insisted. She really wanted to help and Elissa convinced me I shouldn’t deny her that opportunity. However, I was determined that her assistance would only be a short term thing. In the meantime, though, I’d be getting a regular allowance. 


The next step was for me to find a new job. There was no way I could keep the job at Carnegie Hall when I knew I’d run into Ethan there. Elissa and I talked about this part of the plan quite a bit and we agreed it was time for me to move on from food service. Brian stepped in at that point and offered to get me an internship with VanGuard, provided I agreed to go back to physical therapy. I happily agreed to both. I also agreed to go back to school, but not till Spring Term, which should give me time to get my hand back in shape and reorder my life. 


My five year goals included graduating from school, finding a real job and eventually paying Brian back for the tuition and the health insurance costs he’d agreed to foot until then.


As for my past, and all the shit with Ethan, I cried over it until I thought I’d run out of tears, and then cried some more. My emotions and desires with regard to my lover-cum-abuser ran the entire gamut from sadness to fear to hatred. For about a half a day I entertained grandiose plans for revenge against him. But then, after talking some more with Elissa, I realized that would never work. See, narcissists have no moral or ethical restraints at all. You can’t win against them because they’ll play dirty and they don’t care about consequences. Right and wrong mean nothing to them because all they care about is winning. So trying to get back at Ethan, suing him to get my money back, or any act of revenge really, would likely only boomerang back on ME. And, if I tried to go after him to get my money back or otherwise seek redress, it would mean renewing contact with him, something that would just open me up to getting hurt again. 


So, in the end, I opted for what Elissa called ‘Radical Acceptance’. I would simply have to accept the fact that I would never get back the time, money or personal possessions that Ethan had taken from me. I would acknowledge the loss and the pain, and then move on. I would go zero contact with Ethan. I would block him on all electronics and social media, avoid all locations where I might see him, and I might even - if he hadn’t already moved on because of his big recording career - have to look into changing schools. I didn't want to ever have to deal with him again. It was the only way I could heal. 


Hopefully he’d already moved on himself and wouldn’t try to come after me again; Rory could have him, or maybe he’d go after that other kid, Mark, next. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t save them any more than Ethan’s former boyfriend, the dancer from Philly, could have saved me. All I could do now was save myself. I might not ever forget, but I wouldn’t expend any more energy on Ethan. Instead, I would concentrate on moving forward with my new plan. I would focus on myself; that would be enough for the time being.


Not surprisingly, though, my new, all-encompassing life plan also included some space for Brian Kinney. But not necessarily in the same role he’d played before. Brian was going to have to make some accommodations. Because I didn’t want to go back to the way things had been before. I didn’t want to feel dependent on him - or anyone else for that matter. I needed to be in control of my own life for a change. I didn’t want to rely on anyone except myself for my emotional well-being. I needed to be self-reliant, and not just financially, but emotionally as well. And, while I now realized that Ethan had manipulated me and intentionally driven a wedge between Brian and myself in order to steal me away, the fact that he’d been able to succeed so easily was a clear indication that there’d been huge problems there to start with. So, while I definitely wanted Brian back in my life, I vowed that this time I would be in control of where that relationship went and how fast. 


It was time for me to be enough for ME.


Strangely enough, though, Brian seemed on board with these ideas right from the start. He’d been incredibly supportive from the first day I’d come to Mercy. He’d not only come to visit every day, but he’d agreed to sit in on a couple of my therapy sessions. We’d talked - really talked, about consequential stuff - more that week than in the entire previous two years. I found out some things I’d never known about him, including more about his own past history of abuse and all about how much he’d struggled after the bashing with his own emotional backlash. He also confessed how he had come to see me every night while I was in the hospital after the bashing, watching me as I slept, but how he was too messed up himself to admit how much it had affected him. That was big. I think, after talking about that for a while, Elissa might have even convinced Brian to start therapy for himself. Maybe. But at least he hadn’t completely ruled the possibility out. 


All I know is that I think a real relationship with Brian might be doable now, and that’s a good thing because it’s all part of my plan.



So that’s it; that’s my story. 


That’s how I ended up as this new person. This brand new Justin who only superficially resembles the boy I was before. I’m not completely healed yet. I’m not sure how long that process will take or if I’ll ever really get there. What I’ve been through changes a person. But, to be honest, I think I’d rather be this person than whomever I used to be. This person is resilient. This person is strong. This person has weathered the storm and survived. 


And now, when I look in the mirror, I’m beginning to get used to the face I see staring back at me; it’s a face I’m learning to recognize and maybe even like.


“Hey, Sunshine. You ready to impress all these idiots with your brilliance?” Brian asks, greeting me on the sidewalk outside VanGuard as I prepare to enter for the first day at my new internship. 


I look into the window of the big glass and steel office building and I’m truly happy for the person reflected back at me. 


“Yeah, I’m ready,” I declare with a wink to the boy in the no-longer-ugly mirror.


 

Chapter End Notes:

2/28/20 - Yay! Another story done! Thank you for bearing with me on this one. It was a labor of love and desperation. Even though it’s a fictionalized version, there’s a lot of my own story in here, and it was a painful process to write it all down. In the end, though, it felt like it was SCREAMING to get out of my brain. I apologize for dragging all my readers with me through the recitation of all this torture and angst, and I hope you’ll like my ending. It may not be the ending you all pictured - there’s no prince swooping in to save the princess from the ogre - but that’s because it’s real life. Justin needed to save HIMSELF. That’s part of the healing process. So is letting go of all the damage Ethan did. Justin will be better off in the long run for having taken control of his own rescue. I guess we’ll call this, Happily-Ever-After-Lite... *wink* TAG. 

 

Also, in case you want to know about the phone thing: Your phone may be Spying on you

The End.
Tagsit is the author of 61 other stories.
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