Chapter Text
A lot of time had passed. And a good chunk had changed. Everyone knew everything, except regression, and they had filled all the little boxes. Thomas was in therapy and it turns out he got PTSD. They were all learning to deal with it. Paranoia, a primary symptom of PTSD was the opposite of logic, part of why he got hit particularly hard. He had also found out a lot more about the weird voices and managed better relations with them. He supposed he was system, is was a hard pill to swallow but clearly a necessary one. A lot of damage had been avoided. The scars stopped adding up than stopped entirely, though the urges never did. An answer. A support network. Coping strategies. The end. The happy ending in everything he read and what everyone expected.
It wasn’t. It was happier but not an ending. He still was terrible at reaching out and no coping strategy ever gave the feeling of safety back. It is a sad truth that PTSD is treatable, not curable. Some fucker who wanted a good time took that sense of safety. It was gone. From what he had seen you were supposed to get it back but he had reached the ending in every book on the subject he had read, every story he heard, and it never came. He was alone in his room again. The corners didn’t reek of blood but it was still cluttered and he couldn’t clean it. He had more books unread than he had in. Long time and couldn’t focus to read them unless they had hope for him. It felt wrong to feel this bad, like crying over your gift on Christmas because it was the wrong color. And more than everything he was surprised at something Janus mentioned. It was weird, to know you don’t know something. He just mentioned kindergarten and that something happened. Thomas was bullied but it never really bothered him so it was weird to bring it up, especially in regards to paranoia like he had. Even weirder no one else seemed confused, like it was a secret from him.
Everyone else knew.
Virgil filled him in on the broad idea afterward. It did get physical. Quite a lot. What bothered Logan was that he didn’t remember. He just didn’t. Come to think of it he doesn’t remember any of kindergarten, Or grades 2 through 4. He always thought it was just that is was a long time ago but he remembered first grade well. Not all of it but what it was like and a few fond memories. It was weird.
Logan was pacing around his room thinking and feeling. One thing what he found suggested was letting yourself feel. He was trying but sometimes it felt like holding his hand in boiling water and sometimes it felt like the air was boiling so he had to swim till he drowned. He should reach out and talk to someone to do this shouldn’t he? But interrupting someone is rude and they are always busy and so is he. Busy with work. Busy with games. Always busy and what would they do? No one knew how to take anything as anything but a joke, at least when it came from him. Maybe his feelings were stupid. They were from something that either never happened to him or form decades ago that he doesn’t even remember. Still feel sad over them. Still regress over them just to take the weight off. He read about why and how it was common and expected for trauma especially from childhood. It still felt stupid.
He felt a familiar presence come towards front.
“No it’s not stupid. You want me to read you a book?” Logan nodded. Regression did still always help. Logan gave the voice permission to front. It always felt weird the not quite touch sensation but it felt better than no touch and there had been way less recently. He slipped into little space quickly and listened to the book being read and answered every question. It was a fun satirical book on the tail on sleeping beauty and Logan laughed every other page. He had to steal it from Patton but it was well worth it. One page had a spiral staircase with fractured marker on it and Logan laughed.
There is no happy ending but there is a happier continuous story.