Interlude [TTRPG bluebooking]
CW: mentions of abuse and humiliation, blood, murders and other gross shit. Minz is fucked in the head for a reason.
"I was thinking that I owe you. In the end, you yourself said your services were worth five grand per hour. Mine are not that expensive but not easily accessible nonetheless. Sounds like a good deal to you?"
Minz scoffed.
"And I thought we had consensual intercourse, not a bargain or deal. You owe me nothing. I never had any profits in mind. If you want to help me in some way, I will only accept it as a conscious act. As a manifestation of your will, if you want. But not as a trade offer. These days are long past you."
Orion shook his head and smiled.
"Honestly, I would've thought I spoke to Philanthropist. Sometimes I think you don't need any help, but outside perspective proves that both you and I have a lot of work ahead of us. Actually, this was exactly what I wanted to help you with."
"Go on."
"Humans are very fragile beings. We may reinforce our bodies with steel, but it doesn't give a game-changing advantage. Especially because our minds are even more fragile than our bodies, and there is no way we can artificially reinforce the mind. Brain does a lot of wonders as well as a lot of truly ridiculous things, but its ultimate goal is always one and the same. Ensure our survival. Not just by survival of body, but by survival of mind too. Yet, one's true potential usually lies beyond the brain's efforts to keep our integrity."
"I am not sure what you are implying. The way we cope with traumas restricts us from growth?"
"Kind of. A lot of things in life are out of our control. And these out-of-control things tend to hurt us the most. There is nothing we can do about our past. Altering it is impossible. Yet, the brain often tries to alter our memories or to fog them so much that we deem these as inaccessible. What if I told you that shedding light on these suppressed memories could potentially benefit you in the long run? You can't change things that happen to you, but you can change the impact they have on your life. Facts stay facts. Your reaction is in your control. Only you choose how to feel and what to do. I will guide you through. But I need to have access to these memories. I need you to tell me what was happening in your household. How your father was hurting you. What did you feel? What were you thinking? I will be there so the pain won't shut your mind down. Do you trust me?"
"If I say I don't want to speak about it, you'll say that my brain is avoiding potential damage?"
"Exactly. You are a NET Architecture. I am a netrunner. I will hack into you because, much like surgeons, I can't heal you without hurting you. But before I do that, I want to ask nicely."
"I don't think good intentions work in this way."
"Good intentions are only as good as a pavement for the road to hell. What I offer you is brutal and painful, but effective. You are hiding from yourself; you don't see how uniquely brilliant you are. The fog in your mind doesn't allow you to see it."
Minz stayed silent. Yet he didn't want to take his leave, even though it could've saved him from Orion and his ridiculous ways. Probably, he was right. He never had a chance to go through his trauma. He forgot names and faces, but he never forgot what they were doing to him.
"Hesitant, are we? Let me start for you then. It wasn't just your father. There were many of his friends and drinking buddies. They needed good entertainment to accompany the drink. And being sadists and psychopaths, they craved suffering and humiliation. You knew you had to go through everything or else your brother is going to join you. What was it? How did they try to break you? How did they fail to break you?"
How did they fail to break him? Yes, the irony. They tried their darn hardest, but couldn't bring him to the breaking point. Not even once. Beating was nothing special. Very soon Minz realized that pain is mortal. You can outlive it. You have to outlive it so you don't get another hit for crying or whimpering. If even a single tear showed in the corner of his eye, the torture started anew. It continued until his eyes were as dry as dozens of bottles spread across the dirty kitchen floor. If he dared lose consciousness, he was brought back to his senses, and the torture started anew. He had to feel the pain; he had to let himself soak in it and embrace it. People modify their bodies to get more tolerant to pain. Minz laughed at anything trying to hurt him. He loved laughing in their ugly, deformed faces. He loved being as unbreakable as he was. He loved their frustration, their anger, and their confusion. It made all the pain worth it. Each cut, each hit, each painful holdāall of this was useless against him. So they changed tactics.
"ā¦as terrifying as it is, this experience allows you to stand strong in the face of every danger. Pain doesn't make you panic; it makes you determined. You can't change all the suffering you came through, nor can you undo the damage your mind sustained. But you still can turn this curse into a blessing. They stole your humanity. They gifted you endurance and determination."
It wasn't just about the pain. As soon as it stopped working, they started mixing it with humiliation. As with any other torture, it starts lightly and becomes more and more hardcore as time passes by. At first they forcefully undressed him, spat on him, and extinguished cigarettes on his bare skin. Then he was forced to clean their dirty footwear with his tongue or clean the floor of filth and vomit in the same way. Needles under his nails, profanities written on his skin with the glass shard or the kitchen knife, and a toilet filled with feces where they tried to drown him once and again. Some would say it's a miracle that there was no sexual abuse involved, but alcohol makes men piss-poor opponents, as well as it doesn't play in favor of their reproductive function. They simply weren't able to. But if they were, they would do it without a second thought.
Humiliation didn't work as well as they had hoped, either. Your dignity is out of the picture as soon as the throat of your abuser meets the mercilessly sharp edge of the knife. Minz's breaking point was, in fact, an explosion. And for the first time in his life, he felt powerful. He has seen fear in their eyes. It didn't matter that they spat on him ten minutes prior. Now he was able to do the same, and out of pure terror they would ask for more. But Minz didn't need it. For him, the fact that they will never try to bother him again was more than enough.
"ā¦you know, I don't like the steel comparisons. Steel bends. Steel breaks. Nothing special. But the stone! Oh, that's something very different. Stone will never bend. And when you hit it with something, there is a chance for sparksāthat's exactly what happened in your case. And remember that the small pebble was Goliath's demise in David's hands."
Oh, he indeed was his father's demise. At first he gaslighted Siegbert into believing that he was the one who cut the throat of his friend. Of course, this resulted in yet another fight, but Siegbert wanted to silence Minz. Not to make him admit his guilt.
Then Siegbert distanced himself from his buddies. Not that they weren't happy about it. Minz was sixteen, and he was training hard. His body became more and more capable of not just absorbing the damage, but also inflicting it. And once one of these disgusting pigs was on the receiving end, their desire to continue torturing Minz disappeared immediately. Minz wasn't afraid of consequences. If nobody cared about the two children living in an extremely abusive household, then it is likely that nobody cared about these drunk shitsacks either.
With them out of the picture, Minz could finally relax a bit. But Siegbert was still there, and the growing strength of his son compared to his own diminishing physique wasn't convincing enough. Minz still had to fight, but he came out victorious more and more often. And he knew that Siegbert doesn't forgive his shameful defeats. But what was then? It was the knife, right? It was the knife. But why do his hands remember something heavy and shattering? Not the glass, but theā¦wood?
No, it was the knife.
But he had some splinters in his toes. Yes, he remembers the doctor removing these. Where did they come from? What was with that broken chair? Why was it broken?
It was the knife.
Wolle looked so terrified. It's understandable. His family, two people he loves the most, fight each other, and his older brother kills his father. The body is a mess. It was unrecognizable.
It was the knife.
Blood was everywhere, and the wood was soaked in it. There are bone shards on the chair leg. The shards are from the fractured skull. Minz's arms and his legs are covered in blood too. His blood and the blood of his father. He ignores the pain in his chest, but it becomes more and more difficult to breathe. He must endure. He must bring Wolf to Max. Then he can collapse all he wants.
He doesn't feel splinters. He doesn't feel how sticky the floor is. He doesn't feel pain. It's just difficult to breathe. His hands are cold, his vision is blurry, and his memory hides the truth.
It wasn't the knife. He beat the everloving shit out of Siegbert with some old heavy wooden chair.
"What choice did you have back then? He was threatening Wolf with the knife. And you couldn't allow him to do it. No matter the price."
Minz was lying on a couch. His gaze was almost empty and lifeless. But he felt some strange sort of relief. As if someone opened up an old, nasty wound, cleaned it up, and stitched it together. There is going to be a scar, as big and ugly as the wound once was, butā¦ it's a scar. It won't bleed anymore.
"I am not proud of what I did. I think I forgot it because in this very moment I was totally like him. The exact copy of my father."
"You were protecting your brother. When Siegbert was beating you and allowed his friends to treat you like that, he was doing it for his own entertainment. I do not approve of your violent outbursts, but who am I to judge you when I basically have done the same to my abusers?"
Orion sighed and made a few notes in his notebook. It was difficult. Minz's mind was incredibly stubborn, and reaching that one particular memory was almost physically exhausting. But he did it. Maybe this will make Phil proud. It was the second or third time Orion worked with oppressed memories. He closed the notebook and put it to the side, relaxing in an armchair.
"You know, before me I see the person who survived against all odds. Who suffered a lot, sacrificed a lot, yet never lost that very small and important glimpse of humanity. You are violent and antisocial, yes. But also you are caring and empathetic. The things you came through are horrifying. Inhumane. But they made you that unstoppable, fierce force people should always consider. You don't need augments, because you've already had your portion of the hell forge. They made you the monster that you are. But they made you one of the kindest and most selfless people I have ever met. Now absorb this. Accept what you are. And you will see an experienced combatant who is capable of protecting his crew and exterminating even the most dangerous threats. And I assure you that everyone around you sees the same. But unleashing your power means that those who benefit from it should be able to look at the monster without fear or doubt. And it's the skill of its own; not everyone around possesses it. Simply speaking, your mates are well aware of your volatile nature, but they are not sure they are able to manage you in this state. This is your window for improvement."
"I know that Wolf is afraid of me. I traumatized him for life, so why do I even wonderā¦"
"Your brother loves and accepts you for what you are. He knows what you had to endure in his stead. And he has survivor's guilt. But this is the topic for some other time. For now, please try to make peace with yourself and accept the fact that people can love you and appreciate you even when you are borderline terrifying."
"What about you?"
Oh, that playful shift in the tone. Good. He is completely grounded then.
Orion chuckled.
"Me? I always loved fucked in the head people. Because all the best people are crazy."
All the best people are.