Gynophobia.

Nathan was oddly silent. He just kept looking at our hands. When I went to talk he opened his mouth a little. I stopped and waited on him to say something. I didn't want to stop him if was going to talk. He hadn't talked to people for a long time so if he was going to talk I wanted to hear it. He kept opening and closing his mouth various times before shaking his head and sighed.

"I hate the smell of sugar cookies. I loath seeing them." He said slowly. I wanted to ask him what he was talking about but I held my tongue. He was quiet for a while before bending his bed down farther. He looked like a wounded animal.

"My father used to go on a lot of business trips. It started off for a day or so but they slowly got longer and longer. My mother and I were really close. We would always together and I barely left her side. I was the typical mommies boy." He said. I couldn't tell what his voice held. But I already knew this story was not going to have a happy ending. He was probably skip to when he was in middle school or something but he didn't.

"I was six when my father went away for a week. That day my mother and I made sugar cookies. A huge batch of them. The whole house reeked of it. The smell just clung to everything." He said. His complexion was sick. I wanted to get up and get him a bucket just in case. I rubbed the top of his hands and he looked up at me for a second before putting his head back down.

"Just because you can't bleed when you have sex with a woman, does it make it your fault?" He asked in a morbid voice. I didn't know how to answer. I had no clue what he was talking about I didn't know if he was still on topic or not.

"I wouldn't know. But what exactly would be your fault?" I asked tilting his face up. He had tears brimming in his eyes. I wiped his eyes and he ran his hands through his hair.

"Every night I have a dream it's not pleasant. It's nothing like what you have dreamed either. It's not about intercourse with someone you love Taylor. It's a nightmare every time. Always going back to horrible times. It's happened, such horrible memories." He mumbled. He had his hands over his eyes. He was holding himself back from crying. I rubbed his back not knowing I wasn't good at consoling people. Dayton was the one who could console anybody. I wondered if I should call him.

"I was six. Six going on seven. It was a Thursday. December Seventeenth. She had been crying so hard. She was so sad that he was gone. I tried to help her. I pat her leg like an idiot little kid. I was wearing my favorite blue pajamas, the ones where you have to get zipped in to wear it. I had heard noises, I was scared." I didn't want to hear anymore. I opened my mouth to say so when he kept going.

"It was dark and cold in the house. She was the one making the noises. I went in to check in on her and she told me to come closer. I loved her so much, I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know what was happening. It hurt so much, every particle of my body hurt. She was so heavy, it left bruises on my body. My throat was sore the next morning. My eyes were puffy and red. I couldn't talk. I didn't want to talk. I refused to talk. I was so confused."

"Nathan."

"I thought it was over, I really thought it was over. I was so stupid. So fucking stupid! Two days later it happened again. My dad came home and was surprised I wasn't talking. She said I was just a bit upset. When the bruises went away they had me checked out. But she knew, she always fucking knew!"

"Nathan." I said a bit louder trying to calm him down. He was crying so hard and he was gripping on the couch like if he let go he would just fly away. Maybe he would. He was getting louder with every word.

"Everytime he went away. Every time he went out. Pressing into me, feeling me, holding me. I'm her son! Her blood son! Her first born!"

"Nathan!" I yelled at him grabbing onto both sides of his face. He looked me in the eyes and allowed me to pull him to my chest. He was silent for a while besides him letting out labored breaths as he cried.

"I had my first kiss at thirteen with her. She surprised me in my room and cornered me. She's lied so many times. She said she'd stop. Stop everything. But it's always a lie. Everything is a lie. So many times I wished I was just dead. Wished I had never been born. Wished my dad had gotten fired when I was six instead of getting promoted and leave home. Wish that I hadn't went in that room. Wished that I never cared. Wished that this was all just a dream." He said in a calm voice. I was rubbing his back and thinking everything over as I grinded my teeth.

"Didn't just touch you did she?" I asked in a soft voice. He shook his head.

"I lost my virginity at six. I first came when I was ten. My first kiss was at thirteen. I first thought of fighting back at fifteen. I was first tied up at sixteen. The only reason she didn't do anything while I was seventeen was because she was pregnant. She couldn't risk me killing Maryann by accident." I stayed silent. I had nothing to say to him. He felt so fragile in my arms. If I held him too tight it felt like he was going to break into a million pieces.

"After Maryann was born she snuck into my room and whispered to me that I needn't worry. She was my fathers, not mine." He had grabbed onto my shirt tight when he said that. It was no wonder now why he didn't seem to like Maryann. Even if his mother had said that it didn't mean it was true. She could have easily been his because of his sick mother. Deep down I think he believe that he was the responsible party.

"She said I love you to me. I love you." He said biting out his words. He was holding my shirt so tight I think I heard the fabric rip.

"Sleep Nathan, just sleep." I whispered in his ear and gently ran my hand through his hair. I already could tell he was exhausted. He relaxed his grip on my shirt and I felt him go slack against my body. I slowly leaned back so he could relax better. He had his eyes closed but I couldn't tell if he was really sleeping. When his breathing became deep I knew he was sleep.

I sighed looking at the ceiling as I caressed his face. So much had happened to him. But he said it was still happening. I held back the urge to punch something. I didn't want to wake him. He deserved sleep.