I rubbed my temple, my head beginning to ache. “Hell if I know. She said she found the image in one of the books at our local tattoo shop in Snow Creek. I went over, and damned if the image wasn’t nearly identical to the one I remember.”
“Odd that Jade would pick the same image.”
I nodded. “More than odd. She said the phoenix was a symbol to her. She got left at the altar and was humiliated, and the phoenix rising from the ashes pointed the way to a new and better life for herself.”
“That does make sense,” Dr. Carmichael said.
“It didn’t make sense to me.”
“It didn’t make sense to you? Or were you just so upset by the image that you didn’t even think about it making sense?”
God, I hated it when she was right. “That image…it’s hard for me to…” I closed my eyes, gripping the arms of the leather chair.
* * *
Again I focused on the colorful bird on his forearm—the only thing I could focus on to keep myself from screaming or emptying my stomach. It was a menace, but it was also my safe place.
“Yeah, boy, that’s it, take it all,” Tattoo said, pumping into me.
Low Voice and the other laughed, jeered. “That’s it. Give it to him good. You know he likes to be fucked.”
Again, I stared at the bird. I’d learned not to argue with what they said. Did they really think I liked this? How could anyone like any of this? I hated it. I hated it to the depths of my soul. But I did what I had to do to survive. The first few times, when I screamed, “No, I hate this!” I’d been punished with a beating.
Why did I try to survive? Most of the time I wished I were dead. But still, every time they came, I did what I had to in order to survive.
Every damned time.
* * *
I opened my eyes. “That phoenix has been part of my life since then.”
“How so?”
I swallowed. “I always thought I remembered every single horrific detail of what I went through. But honestly, Doc, new memories surface all the time. Like, for example, I just remembered about the one guy missing a toe. How could I have forgotten that?”
“Talon, your mind does what it has to so that you can survive. You were ten. It’s only natural for you to block out some things.”
“But something as innocuous as how many toes one of my captors had? Why would I choose to block that out, when I remembered so many of the horrors?”
“I don’t know, but we will figure it out. You did remember the phoenix.”
True. “For a long time, the phoenix was the only thing I remembered about the whole experience. Other than the abuse, that is. I’m afraid that has always been etched into my psyche. I wish I could forget it.”
“Forgetting things and blocking things out come with their own problems,” the doctor said. “The fact that you do remember is actually in your favor, as far as healing goes.”
“I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, but let me tell you, remembering all of that is a curse.”
“The curse is that it happened to you. Remembering it will help you get through it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Let’s get back to the phoenix. That was the only thing you remembered about your captors. Why do you think that is?”
I had only just begun to solve the riddle of the phoenix. All those years had passed. I had named my horse Phoenix, for fuck’s sake. I’d had a poster of a phoenix on the wall of my room. Yet the phoenix represented hell to me. “The phoenix was the one constant in everything, Doc. The one thing I remembered about the guy. When they were…attacking me, I wasn’t allowed to scream, or I got beaten. I wasn’t allowed to throw up, or I got beaten. Basically all I was allowed to do was take it like a man, as they liked to say. So I had to find something to focus on, and I focused on that phoenix on his forearm.”
“So in a way, the phoenix became a haven for you.”
“I don’t know if I’d say that exactly.”