Alan didn’t blink. Just nodded slowly, a silent invitation to go on.
“I didn’t force her,” I muttered, like a defense I already knew would collapse under its own weight. “I didn’t trick her into bed with lies. Not—notexactly. Because I was already real with her by then. And I didn’t pretend to be someone else.”
Alan leaned forward. “You admitted your original intent was to pursue her romantically, with the purpose of hurting her. Correct?”
I nodded, heart thudding painfully. “Yeah, at first. But then things changed.”
“But you didn’t tell her any of that. Not when it started. Not when it changed. Not before it escalated.”
“No. I didn’t,” I admitted, and suddenly the walls were closing in. “But I cared about her. I do. Iloveher.”
Alan nodded again. Calm. Nonjudgmental. Like he was assessing damage after a car crash. “Lucian, I’m not a lawyer. But if she came to me for counseling—described your actions, the original intent, the concealment of that intent, and how youleveraged her emotional trust—I would urge her to talk to the authorities.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Bile surged up my throat, and I swallowed it down with a grimace. “But I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I didn’t think—”
“That’s part of the problem,” he said gently. “You didn’t think. Youacted. Alcohol wasn’t the cause but it did impact your emotional regulation. And the harm was done long before you ever realized the truth of your feelings. Long before you... quote unquotecheatedon her.”
I shook my head. “Quote unquote? You think it wasn’t cheating?”
Alan tilted his head. “Let’s dig into that. Are you ready?”
I nodded.
“Logically, if it wasn’t cheating, then the relationship wasn’treal. Which would mean the consent for the sex you had was obtained under false pretenses. Which would support the claim of rape by deception. Fraudulent methods to gain consent.”
The ground under me cracked.
“But if youdothink it was cheating, that means you were in a real relationship with her—and that you knowingly hurt her anyway.”
My breath stuttered.
“So really, it’s one or the other,” Alan said softly.
A cheater or a rapist?
These are my options?
Something inside me fractured. Shattered. Like the bones of who I thought I was had just given out under the weight of what I’d done.
I couldn’t speak.
I couldn’t move.
My throat burned. My stomach turned.
And then—too fast to stop—I stumbled to my feet and barely made it to Alan’s wastebasket before the contents of my stomach came up in one violent heave.
For the third time in the past week.
Alan didn’t say a word. Didn’t rush to help.
Just sat there. Letting me fall apart. Letting the truth settle into the hollows of who I was.
Letting it ruin me.
??????
