New Horizons (1/10)
Title: New Horizons
Fandom: Brothers and Sisters
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Length: ~15,000
Characters: Justin, Kitty, Kevin, Sarah, Nora, and Tommy
Icon: danielle_nahimi
Warning: Contains references to sexual abuse and rape.
Summary: In which Justin leaves rehab, and the family struggles to deal as something disturbing comes to light.
Chapter One
In which Justin leaves rehab
They were hard, those group sessions at the rehab centre. The group room, with its thrashed overstuffed chairs and bright walls, always seemed chilly after you had spilled your guts, despite the California sun shining through the picture windows.
During Justin’s stay at New Horizons, his group remained pretty stable. The first guy he met was Kent, an alcoholic high-school quarterback who eventually came out to his rabidly fundamentalist family. Kevin was the Walker who was sitting in family group beside Justin when that happened; silently cheering Kent on, even as Kent’s mother sobbed and clutched the worn Bible she always brought with her and Kent’s father stared at him like he had never seen him before.
David, the vicodin-addicted 22 year old who had his dreams of being an actor shattered on a weekly basis by an indifferent TV industry, was the person that Justin most connected with. He and John, a student at UCLA who slipped from weed to coke to crack like a made-for-TV movie sob story, were the only other guys in the group.
The girls were something else. Katie and Mel and JK were single-handedly responsible for making Justin realise that families could have a heart of darkness without anyone being the wiser. He had always intellectually known that some fathers and uncles and brothers were sick fucks. He just didn’t realise that when he was lying in bed listening out for William’s foot on the stairs, his biggest fear of being caught playing Nintendo after lights out was a million miles away from what a creaking floorboard outside the door signified for so many other kids.
Justin found it incredibly painful to relate the experience of seeing his brothers-in-arms explode like so many cheap horror extras. Sometimes it felt like he was pushing the words out of his dry throat past a chest that was on fire. He spent a lot of time in his first group panicking; gasping for breath and unable to control the images of death and destruction flashing before my eyes. Like he was just now.
“It’s OK, Justin”, said Dr. Holden, recognising his increasing anxiety. “Just breathe.”
He shot her a wry look. What the fuck did she think he was doing? He put his head between his knees, trying desperately to fight off the wave of dizzy nausea that swept over him.
“Does anyone have anything they would like to say to Justin?”
This group conversation thing was a major part of the sessions. Justin personally found it hard to find words to address other people’s shit. Like, what did he know about their situation?
“Um, yeah”, said David tentatively. “I don’t really get what you went through, bro. I just want to say that I think you’re a total hero and I think it’s weak that they want you to go back to that fucking shithole.”
Nice. David’s words made him feel both better and worse. He didn’t feel like a hero, so much as a dude who couldn’t hold it together when his unit needed him. He felt like someone who was turning his back on his buddies and on his country.
Justin also struggled to cope with everyone else thinking that their personal reasons for being there weren’t as meaningful as his, just because his buddies ended up splattered over Iraqi dirt-track in front of his eyes. Because his trauma was part of some national narrative of grief and pain. Because his trauma earned approving looks and muttered thanks from some of the family visitors to the group, before Dr. Holden could set them straight.
“Thanks, dude”, he mumbled. David patted Justin on the back, awkwardly and a bit too hard. Neither of them was entirely comfortable with the process that sometimes ended up with them sobbing and gasping, tears running down their faces.
“Who’s next?” said Dr. Holden. She scanned the small circle. Those who hadn’t spoken yet leaned back in their seats.
There wasn’t time for the entire group to talk each session, and they were supposed to be proactive about trying to get time to unload. They were supposed to want to face their demons, and heal, and all that good shit. In reality, talking in group was a little bit like having your skin pulled off and Justin couldn’t blame any of the girls who were currently ducking their heads and folding their arms in front of themselves as an inadequate protection against Dr. Holden’s request.
He studied the bits of Katie, Mel and JK’s faces that he could see. They wore similar expressions, a blend of tense and blank. Dissociation, Dr. Holden called it, and explained to them that a lot of abuse survivors used it as a mechanism for coping with what they were experiencing. They pulled hardcore versions of those faces when each other was speaking in any detail about their experiences, as if by blocking out what each other was saying they could pretend that they hadn’t been raped or molested either.
Katie started speaking. About her uncle, and what he’d done to her and her sister. JK zoned out immediately, but Mel seemed to be listening.
Justin caught Kent’s eye. He pulled a grim face. They had talked before about how hard they found the girls’ shit to listen to, and how they felt weirdly guilty by association for being guys when Katie, JK and Mel had been hurt in such a male way. Justin could understand it, but he also hated the way they seemed to collapse in on themselves, how ashamed they seemed to feel by the sick shit that someone had done to them.
“And so”, said Katie, interrupting his thoughts. “It’s like the alcohol gives me access to all of these feelings that otherwise aren’t there. I mean, I just feel numb and kind of blank and nauseated deep down a lot of the time but if I’m drunk then I can cry and it feels like a pressure valve releasing.”
“And what happens if you don’t drink, Katie?” asked Dr. Holden.
“It’s hard to explain.” Katie took a breath, thinking. “The pressure slowly builds up, but it’s hard to notice it. Then, sometimes, I explode but I can’t really figure out why I’m exploding. I mean, I know I should be angry but somehow it doesn’t come out right. I feel more angry with myself than anything else.”
“It’s not your fault, Katie”. Kent didn’t wait for Dr. Holden to solicit comments, he just jumped in. There was a beat of silence.
“Yeah, thanks Robin Williams!” Katie was more entertained than consoled. Justin raised his eyebrows at Kent, who rolled his eyes as Mel giggled.
Mel’s giggles were infectious, and they were alll laughing as Dr. Holden formally ended the group.
Katie was walking next to Justin as they emerged, blinking, into the afternoon sunlight.
“I’m sorry about that wisecrack”, she said. “I totally appreciate that Kent was being nice, and the thought was really kind. Do you think he’s mad at me?”
She smiled at him, and Justin thought for the five millionth time that she was a total babe. She had shiny brown hair and a smile that Senator MacAllister would have envied. It was hard to tell what her body was like, though, because she always wore thick sweatshirts and jeans, no matter how warm the Santa Ana winds got.
“Nah”, he said and reached out his hand to pat her arm. She flinched away, and then froze like a kid playing statutes. Fuck.
She flushed hot, bright red. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I swear to God that I know you’re a good guy, but after group things are a little raw.” She looked at her sneakers and poked the lawn with the toe of her Skecher.
“It’s OK”, Justin said. “I know what you mean. Sometimes after group I can’t even bear the sound of a door slamming.” He shook his head. “Reminds me too much of an IDE exploding.”
She nodded, looking into the middle distance. She got it.
(Part two)