"You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until now."
- Anonymous

It was an ordinary day, maybe a Tuesday or Wednesday, when Gus noticed it; the urge to use and the strength of his cravings were weakening. He realized he actually wanted to stay clean. Maybe it wouldn't be that hard. It would help him save some money, buy a place of his own, build some kind of life.

Being clean had already made him feel much better, clear-headed and balanced. He slept eight hours a night and ate three meals a day. He no longer felt the compulsion to pick at his skin. He was no longer paranoid. The only thing he still couldn't shake was his nightmares.

"Gus," Jeff said in their next session. His face was serious.

"What?" Gus asked, feeling nervous.

"You have four months left here. We've worked on a lot of trauma in this room. But we still haven't touched the worst of the abuse. I think you're ready to face that trauma."

Gus shifted uncomfortably and looked at Gina, who nodded. "I don't know, Jeff."

"Look at how far you've come. Do you want this to remain inside of you? The fear, the shame? Or are you ready to let it go?" Jeff asked.

"I... I think I'm ready," Gus said uncertainly.

"It'll be a long process. It won't just take this one session. It'll be very difficult. Do you understand?"

Gus nodded, feeling a little sick.

"Okay," Jeff said with a deep sigh. "Let's do one particular, very strong memory. Can you think of one?"

Gus thought, but he didn't have to think hard.

"The first time he did it," he whispered.

Jeff held up the familiar chart with the ten faces on it. One, a smiley face, meant the trauma barely affected him. Ten, a face with a squiggly mouth and crazy eyes, meant it was unbearable. Gus's goal was to move down the scale until he got to the smiley face or at least close to it. It was then that Jeff could be sure the memory had reprocessed.

"It's a fuckin' eleven," Gus said.

"I figured," Jeff said.

He passed the two small pods to Gus, who held them loosely in both hands.

"Okay. Are you ready?" Jeff asked.

Gus nodded.

"Close your eyes. Focus on that memory."

As soon as Gus closed his eyes, Jeff started the machine that made the pods vibrate back and forth in his hands, lulling him into a waking REM state. He pictured the memory, the darkness of the bedroom, the confusion and helplessness, the shame. Several seconds later Jeff stopped the machine.

"Open your eyes. Take a deep breath and let it out."

Gus breathed slowly and deeply.

"What did you notice?"

"Darkness in the room."

"Go with that," Jeff said, and he started the pods again.

This time, as Gus focused on the darkness, he began to feel the horrible sick feeling he'd had and a sudden shot of pain. He'd never remembered pain before. Why was there pain? In the conscious memory he could only remember being forced to touch his foster father, but there wasn't pain involved.

"Take a deep breath. What did you notice?"

Gus's eyes sprang open. "It hurts," he whispered. "I think I blocked it out, but now I remember."

"Focus there."

In the next round, Gus stayed with the pain. His stomach was churning as he felt the hands moving down his body. His arm was twisted behind him, held in place against the man's crotch. He knew he wasn't being raped, but it felt similar. The pain was filling him up. He was crying. He heard a voice whisper, "Shut up or we can go to the basement and I'll get the cord. Stop whimpering. If I hear it again I'll beat the shit outta you." He remembered crying out as the pain intensified. Something was being shoved inside of him. His foster father slapped the back of his head. Gus felt like he was being ripped apart. It was agony. It was torture. But he couldn't scream or cry or there would be worse pain.

"Open your eyes. Take a deep breath. What did you notice?" Jeff asked.

Gus's mind had completely buried this whole part of the scene until just now.

"I never remembered this part before, but he put somethin' up in me and it hurt so bad. I was cryin' and scared. He said he'd use the cord if I didn't shut up. I was so confused and didn't know what was happenin'," Gus said, his heart racing.

"Stay with that," Jeff said.

Gus closed his eyes as the pods began to vibrate again. The terror and pain were overwhelming him. He was begging and pleading for it to stop. He heard his child voice echoing in his brain.

"Stop," Gus whispered out loud. "Stop. Stop. Please stop! STOP!"

Jeff turned the pods off. "Take a deep breath through your nose and out your mouth."

Gus took a deep, shaky breath. "I can't go back there again, Jeff. I'm done."

"You're doing great, Gus. This is the way you heal. You can do this," Jeff said.

Jeff let him have a full minute instead of the usual twenty second break. Gus kept breathing deeply, trying to calm down.

"Jeff?" he asked.

"What?"

"Why would he put somethin' inside me? Is that what he wanted... just to hear me scream, just to hurt me?"

Jeff's mouth was set in a grim line. "I can't begin to imagine what goes through a pedophile's mind, but he was most likely preparing your body for penetration before performing the act. He intended to have sex with you somewhere down the line."

Gus felt nauseous, and he grabbed the nearest trashcan next to Jeff's desk and threw up in it while Gina rubbed his back.

"I can't do this, Jeff!" he said, wiping his mouth with a tissue she offered him.

"Look at me, Gus."

Gus looked at Jeff.

"You are strong, and you can do this. You are stronger than this memory. You are stronger than this monster. You can. And you will. I believe in you. Every time we do EMDR, you win back a part of yourself that was stolen. Don't let this sick bastard have any power over you!"

"I couldn't remember it! It was fine where it was! It was fine buried! Why make me dig it up?" Gus exclaimed as tears ran down his face.

"Because even though you couldn't remember it, it was affecting you. It was causing you such deep shame and you didn't know why. It was keeping you on drugs. It was controlling everything you did. Memories aren't like dead bodies that get buried and rot away into nothing. When you bury a memory, it makes it even more powerful."

Gus wiped his eyes as Jeff continued,

"This time, I want you to invite a thought into that memory. I want you to think, 'this isn't my fault.' Even if you don't feel like it's true, insert that thought into the memory."

"'Kay. I'm ready," Gus whispered.

The pods began to vibrate, and Gus was there again with the dark and the pain and confusion and fear.

"This isn't my fault," he told himself. "This isn't my fault. This isn't my fault."

As he repeated the words, Gus felt a deep sob rising up in his throat like a spring of water buried underground. As soon as Jeff turned off the pods, it spilled out of him. He held his head in his hands and cried like a child. The sobs physically shook him. The pain was gushing out of his soul, cleansing him, healing him. He felt something heavy break loose like an iceberg and drift away in that flood.

"Now I want you to insert the thought, 'I don't deserve this.' You're doing great, Gus," Jeff said.

Gus clutched the pods in his hands as they began to vibrate. Back in the horror, he thought, "I don't deserve this." As he repeated this new thought to himself, another emotion began to rise in him. This time it was deep, buried rage. It shook him in a physical but different way than the sobbing had. It was heavier than pain. It was hot like hellfire and hurt even in the place where he was holding it inside himself. He pictured himself swinging open a door and the fire bellowing out and consuming everything.

"I HATE YOU!" he heard himself scream out loud in a voice that didn't even sound like his.

Jeff shut off the pods. Gus threw them down and jumped out of his chair. The rage was pulsing through him, an anger so intense he didn't know how to contain it anymore. He certainly couldn't control it now that he'd opened the door in his vision. It was a blazing inferno. It drove him to move, to do something.

"I FUCKING HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! YOU SICK FUCKING BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!"

Gus punched his fist through the newly repaired wall. He grabbed a few heavy books off the bookshelf and threw them at the hole he'd made. They crashed against it, chipping the paint, making deep gouges.

"YOU RUINED MY LIFE, YOU EVIL PIECE OF SHIT!" Gus screamed, and he was sobbing now as he punched the wall again and again.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL! IF I EVER SEE YOUR FACE I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKIN' EYES OUT! YOU RUINED MY LIFE! YOU RUINED ME!"

He picked up his chair and hurled it at the closed door, where it landed with a huge crash. Punch, smack, breaking glass, the ripping of book pages from gluey spines. Gus was blind with rage. He didn't know what he was breaking anymore.

"BURN IN HELL, YOU SICK BASTARD! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!"

When his physical energy was spent, Gus crumpled to the floor with his head in his hands.

"I hate you! I hate you, motherfucker! I fuckin' hate you! You made me wanna die! You made me hate myself!"

He was alone with himself for several minutes, just crying. Now that the fire had been let loose, he again felt the rush of pain beneath it, the pain that had lit the fire in the first place and kept it burning all these years. He hit his fist against the floor. And then finally he felt hands, Gina's hands, on his sweaty back.

"Shh..." she whispered. "Breathe, sweet baby. Let it out. It's okay."

Gus threw his arms around her and let her hold him as he cried. She rocked him back and forth, and Gus couldn't be sure, but he thought he felt her kiss his head. She didn't let go until his tears were spent, nearly a whole hour later.

"You did amazing work today, Gus. I'm very proud of you," Jeff said.

At some point Jeff had walked over and was now kneeling beside him. Gus looked up at him through blurry, hot eyes.

"We call this a breakthrough. You broke through to your anger after all these years. You broke through the fear of feeling it, the shame of what he did to you. I told you you'd win," Jeff said.

Gus looked around. "I destroyed your office," he said hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I'll pay you back for everything. I'm really sorry. I didn't know what I was doin'. I was just blind!"

Jeff shook his head. "I don't care about my office, Son. I care about you. I want you to let this shit out. It's what's kept you on drugs all these years, carrying the weight of all that anger and sadness. You can destroy a thousand offices if it saves your life."

Gus realized he was absolutely exhausted. He had to lean against Gina to stand up on his shaking legs.

"It's all gone now?" he asked softly.

Jeff smiled sadly. "I don't think so, Gus. You've been through some horrible things, and I know this isn't all of your pain and anger, but it's the start we've been waiting for. Now you can heal."

"I'm so sleepy," Gus said, closing his eyes.

Jeff nodded. "That's normal after a session like this. You know the drill. Visit your calm, safe place before you fall asleep."

Jeff had asked him to create a "calm, safe place" in his mind that he visited after each EMDR session. His was a white house with a hammock on the front porch and a dog. He always imagined himself in the hammock.

"Gina, you wanna take him to his room? And Gus, I'll check on you after you sleep, okay? You'll need to process what happened here today. We won't work on a new memory again until this one has fully reprocessed."

Gus nodded. Very slowly, with Gina's arm around him, he made his way back to his room, feeling empty. But the emptiness wasn't a bad feeling. He just felt lighter, like he'd dropped a heavy backpack. He was able to walk unhindered now.

Something huge had broken loose.