“Because it was hard to hear. I’ve gone nearly a whole year without having to talk about what happened. And listening to him tell me what he saw that night . . . it’s just hard to hear and to know that he saw me like that.”
“Ryan, I’m curious. When you realized Candace was the girl you had seen that night, how did you deal with that?”
I wrap my arm around Candace while she dries her tears with a tissue and answer, “As soon as I knew, I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t know how. Then I started thinking that if I did tell her, how much it would hurt her. She was in a really dark place at the time, and I was scared she would break. She hid a lot, but I always knew she was barely holding on. But it f**ked with my head—a lot. I get these flashbacks. It used to only be of my childhood. I see something or whatever and my mind takes me back. But ever since that night she was attacked . . . it keeps playing back in my head.”
“What do you normally do when that happens?”
“Nothing. I eventually just snap out of it. But it kills me that I have that in my head,” I say before I turn to see Candace staring at me in disbelief with what I just said.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“Were you aware that he has these flashbacks, Candace?”
“No,” she answers and then asks me, “So that’s how you see me?”
“No. I denied you were that girl for so long. I fell in love with everything I had in front of me. But when I found out you were that girl, the visions were just so conflicting because I don’t see you like that at all. I know it’s you, but I still don’t want it to be.”
She’s crying now, and I take her other hand in mine when I affirm, “That is not what I see when I look at you.”
“I don’t want that in your head,” she chokes out.
“I don’t either, babe. But these aren’t our choices, and I’ve told you before that I love you regardless.”
“It makes me feel disgusting.”
She takes a moment to settle her tears and take in a few deep breaths when Dr. Christman asks me, “What’s the biggest thing you feel you struggle with about Candace’s attack?”
Letting out a sigh, I tell her, “That I let her down.”
“How so?”
“I was inside and heard the commotion in the alley. I ignored it, figuring it was just people passing through, which happens occasionally. If I had gone out there, then maybe none of this would have happened.”
She sits back in her seat as she looks at Candace and asks, “Is it okay if I share some of the things we’ve discussed in our previous sessions?”
“Of course.”
Focusing back on me, she says, “One of the issues I’ve been working on with Candace is her feeling of blame. She believes that her behavior led to her attack, and she continues to hold herself responsible.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Do you see the parallel here?”
Looking at Candace, I see what Dr. Christman is trying to point out, something I guess I never really saw before. I’ve always thought it was crazy that she could think she was to blame, but in turn, she probably feels the same way about my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Neither one of you are to blame, yet both of you are holding yourselves responsible,” she says. “Did you know he felt this way?” she asks Candace.
I watch as she nods her head, saying, “Yes.”
“Just as Candace and I have been discussing, there’s no way you could have known what was going to happen that night, so you can’t hold yourself responsible for that.”
She says this, I get it, but I can’t accept it . . . not right now.
“Well, I want to be mindful of our time together, so I’d like to focus on Candace, simply because she’s the one who I have been working with. But going forward in your relationship, it’s important that you’re there to help support her as she continues to process and heal. Being aware of her triggers and knowing ways you can help her cope and push her are key.”
“I know that she shuts down and avoids. I like to get it out and talk, but it’s a challenge to get her to open up. I notice she’s been more willing since we’ve been back together this past week, but . . .” I let my words fall, but she picks them up when she says, “It’s very typical of trauma victims to shut down. Candace has expressed to me that when she opens herself up to emotions, she panics and feels like they’re going to flood her, and the loss of control is scary.”
I look to Candace and ask, “But what do you think is going to happen?”
She shakes her head before turning to Dr. Christman, and when she blinks, tears fall.
“Babe, I need you to tell me because I don’t understand.”
“Can you tell me why you can’t answer him?” she asks Candace.
She shakes her head as I move my hand to her back.
“Go ahead and take a moment, but I want you to tell Ryan what you have told me whenever you’re ready.”
I feel like we sit here forever in the silence when she eventually turns to me and takes a deep breath before revealing, “It feels like I’m losing control and that I won’t be able to handle it.”
When I shake my head, still unsure, she tells me, “In the moment . . . it feels like I’m going to die.”
I can barely handle her words and to know that this is how she feels. I pull her into my arms, thinking back to all the times she’s been so scared. The day she saw that dumpster, her nightmares, our fight, and so many other things.