Breaking Free

Trigger warning: talks about psychological abuse

Stephen

Stephen Williams lay down on the sofa in the dark library. He had a migraine, which was a daily thing for him, and his mother had insisted he stop what he was doing and lay down until it had passed. He hated the migraines, what he hated more is the fact that the medication he was prescribed only seemed to make it worse. There were days when he felt like they weren't as bad but mother still insisted he had to stop and rest.

"If you don't it will get worse Stephen dear, you know that. Please, for my sake lay down and rest." Was something she regularly said. Every time one of his chronic illness' cropped up it was the same thing:

"Stephen dear, you need to watch what you are eating, you know you have a sensitive stomach."

"Stephen dear, you know your left arm is weaker since you broke it when you were 8. You need to stop using it or you will end up with surgery."

That was only a couple of examples, but it was his life. He wished he didn't have so many ailments and allergies. He was a young man in his prime, late 20's, he had a PhD from Yale although he had never set foot on the campus - his mother had insisted he wouldn't have been able to be successful if he was so far from home with all his conditions. She had been right, he had excelled in his coursework, and had created and sold a multi-million dollar tech business from the safety of his home.

All of those reasons though didn't bring him any comfort. He felt like he was missing out on his life, although his mother disagreed.

"Stephen dear, I do sympathize with you, I really do but unfortunately..."

"Yes, Yes I know" He had said "My Chronic health and allergies make it difficult for me to have a normal life so I should be thankful for what I have."

But he wasn't and didn't feel grateful.

He was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of soft footsteps outside the door of the Library. Glancing over he noticed Michaela, she worked for him as a pseudo secretary, cleaning lady and cook. She was a breath of fresh air for him in the midst of a stuffy and overwhelming life. With light brown hair and greyish-blue eyes, he found her very attractive although he had never told her so. His mother had noticed his attentiveness to her right away and reminded him that not only she was paid to care, but also there was no real way she would be able to shoulder the burden of caring for him with all of his ailments.

He sat up as she tiptoed into the library. She smiled and handed him a drink:

"I assume you are having a migraine?" She whispered

He nodded and looked at the drink. It was coca-cola, which Michaela swore helped with Migraines. Stephen wasn't entirely sure about that, but he did enjoy sneaking the cold soda occasionally, it was the only kind he could remember trying. His mother insisted on him having no sugar at all, because of his gastrointestinal issues, but Michaela had assured him having one for medicinal purposes would be ok.

"Thanks," he murmured and took a sip. It was refreshing, and he was grateful for Michaela being willing to help him out of his shell once in awhile. He knew that he would regret some things later, but it felt good to be a little rebellious without his mother knowing.

She gave him a wink and slipped out of the Library, leaving him in silence.

***

Michaela

She chewed on her lower lip as she straightened the small sitting room on the lower level. Mrs. Williams occasionally had her friends over for tea, and Michaela was charged with making sure the sitting room was pristine. She knew how it would go, Diana Williams would talk the whole time (complain really) about all of Stephen's ailments and how they were taking their toll on her health. Her so called friends praised her sacrifices and called her a saint, not that anyone who would say otherwise would have never been invited back again. According to Stephen anyway. That was one of many things that bothered Michaela about Stephen's mother, the fact that she played the martyr card all the time.

Although, Michaela had her theories about the whole situation. There was something off about it, but Stephen was a legal adult and could make his own decisions. That didn't stop a pit from growing slowly in her stomach.

She didn't particularly love the job, but Stephen had grown on her and she felt like she would be abandoning him if she quit prematurely (meaning before she graduated from nursing school). Which, she checked her watch, she would be late for if she didn't leave soon. She double checked the room to make sure it was up to the standards of Mrs. Williams then hurried to find them both and tell them goodbye before she headed off to class for the evening.

Which despite her best efforts she was late anyway. The nursing professor gave her a stink eye as Michaela gestured her apology while sliding into her seat. Pharmacology wasn't her favorite class, the teacher who had been a former nurse herself was pretty strict about her expectations, and being late was a big no-no. This was the eighth time she had been late since the semester began and she knew that meant she had to own up to the tardiness.

Today they were talking about the negative effects of the group of medications they had been discussing recently. This section had actually peaked her interest because they had been discussing migraine medication and it was real world applicable to her. It was why she had re-emphasized to Stephen that coca-cola was ok to drink for medicinal purposes when he had started to dig in his heels after the first few times.

"I wish his mother wasn't so overbearing, I really feel like Stephen would be able to do a lot more if she wasn't."

Her attention was quickly pulled back when her teacher said:

"If someone is taking these when not experiencing migraines, or taking more than prescribed some of the side effects are: Nausea, dizziness, tiredness, difficulty functioning or thinking. Some extreme side effects include numbness as well...."

Michaela paused, her thoughts racing: this perfectly described how Stephen was during his migraines. Having never experienced them for herself she hadn't been sure. She chewed on the end of her pencil, was he faking them? I mean, I guess it could be possible.

She raised her hand:

"Is there a way to check that a patient is actually experiencing a migraine?"

"Yes, absolutely. How the pain radiates is a good example, it should be throbbing, not constant as we discussed in previous lectures. Light sensitivity is another, watching how they react to walking into a fully lighted room or having a light turned on is a good way to check. If they seem in a lot of pain you can assume they are experiencing a migraine."

Michaela nodded and didn't respond. She found herself unable to focus after that, was Stephen really actually as sick as he claimed? Or as his mother claimed?

She recalled on one of her first days working there she had opened some heavy curtains letting the sun stream into the room. He had reacted in panic, retreating as far away from the sunlight as possible. Later, he had explained that he was allergic to the sun which was why he had to take such a high dose of vitamin D. She had eventually coaxed him to at least get near the window because it couldn't hurt him when he was inside. His mother was livid when she found out, and nearly fired her but Stephen had stopped her saying there had been no harm done. Her employment wasn't terminated that day, but the curtains were never opened during broad daylight when Stephen was in the room again. That was the main reason she was sneaking him coke products for his migraines.

"I mean, it was really weird at the time. I just blew it off because I knew it was a possibility to be allergic to the sun..." she thought to herself. "What if he really isn't sick at all? But how would I find out?"

***

Stephen

"Stephen?"

He looked up to see Michaela standing in the doorway to his office. Her face wasn't the usual happy he was accustomed to.

"Michaela. Is something wrong?"

She nodded then looked around, stepped inside and closed the door.

"Stephen, how do you know you are allergic to the sun?"

"My Mother insisted I was."

"Aside from that."

"Well, it was when I was around 8 I think, I was at the beach all day, limited though because of my broken arm, and later that day my skin turned red and was very painful. Mom panicked and said that is a symptom of being allergic to the sun. I haven't spent a lot of time outside since."

"Are you sure it wasn't a sunburn?"

"He shrugged, "I don't think so, Mom said a sunburn that bad wasn't possible."

"How long were you outside?"

"About 6 hours."

Michaela frowned: "Okay... well how about the migraines? Can you explain them to me?"

"Where is this going?"

"Please trust me, I am genuinely curious."

"Well lately, I haven't felt like much, I remember my head hurting but my mom told me I was acting sensitive to light and seemed abnormally tired."

"When did they start?"

"When I was in High School.. Why?"

"And you did virtual home school right? So you were staring at a computer all day?"

"Well.... yes? Michaela, you are scaring me what is going on?"

She pulled something out of her pocket: "Do you recognize this?"

"Yes, that was the chocolate mom would give me when I was younger. But it made me so sick, that's when we found out about the gastrointestinal..."

"Stephen, it's not Chocolate. It's a laxative, it looks like chocolate, but it isn't."

Stephen laughed: "I don't know what you are trying to get at Michaela but this joke is over."

"It's not a joke." She rounded the desk and grabbed him by the hand. "Stephen, I think you have Munchausen Syndrome. Which basically means you have been manipulated for a long time to believe you are sicker than you actually are."

"What? That's insane! The doctors..."

"You once told me yourself you never had the same doctor for longer than a year or so right? That isn't normal."

"If they don't know..."

"But you would still have a family doctor you would continue to go to. Do you remember one you really liked as a kid?"

He sighed: "Yes, there was a Doctor Jones, I only saw him a handful of times but I really liked him."

"Call him and ask why you stopped seeing him."

"That is silly, I won't do that. I am busy and have meetings."

"Seriously Stephen!!" She stood up. "I am worried about you. This life isn't healthy, and it is even MORE unhealthy if you aren't really sick. Stephen, this could kill you!"

The office door swung open and Diana Williams stood there with a highly suspicious look on her face.

"What is going on here?"

Michaela stood up a little taller. "I was just telling Stephen that he should talk to the doctor about the migraines again."

"What does that have to do with him dying?"

Michaela went pale but stood her ground.

"I have had about enough of you Michaela. Please go get your things, you are fired."

"Mom! Seriously! It's fine!"

"Stephen, enough. You don't have any sway here. The decision is made."

He was shocked by this statement. "It is my company that pays her salary I think I should get a say."

He was met with a glare, then Diana stepped forward and grabbed Michaela by the arm and dragged her out the door.

"Stephen! Call Dr. Jones. Just ASK him. I could be wrong but I am worried about you."

"That is enough young lady. You need to leave now before I call the police."

The last glimpse he saw of Michaela was his mother shoving her out the door. He could hear them arguing loudly in the hallway, but he couldn't make out what they said. He was in shock. Could it be true? He trusted Michaela with a lot, she knew a lot more about his life than anyone else who had ever worked in the home ever had. He cared about her, more than he ever expected to. Because of that he decided to make the call.

****

Thirty minutes later he stepped out of his office. His face ashen. The doctor he had called.... according to him, had been concerned about abuse, especially after resetting a bone then regularly seeing him for the whole month. After that call he had called other doctors who he remembered seeing growing up, the last one he spoke to had admitted to being suspicious of Munchausen Syndrome, had even called Child Protective Services. He then said Stephen and his mother had never come back after that.

All of them said they had never came back after they expressed their concerns of him not being really sick.

He ran his fingers through his hair.

He wasn't really as sick as he had thought.

His mother approached him:

"Stephen dear, you are clearly shaken up by what just happened. Maybe you should go rest a little while, before a migraine comes on, or your stomach acts up."

"Enough mom!"

She looked taken aback.

"Stephen Williams, you have never spoken to me in that tone before. I demand an apology."

"Why have we kept switching doctors?"

"What does that have to do with your outburst?"

"WHY did we KEEP SWITCHING DOCTORS MOM? I want to hear it from you!"

"Well they started insisting that you weren't really as sick as I was telling them. One of them even called Child Protective Services on me, the nerve of that man! Stephen dear, I was just looking out for you..."

"Looking out for me? Mom! I have lived trapped inside this house my whole life. Believing I was an invalid, believing I would be a burden to others around me. Am I even really allergic to sunlight?"

"Stephen really..."

"No mom! You are avoiding the question."

"You are just overwhelmed because you fell in love with that crazy girl. Making up stories like that, I should have her arrested."

Stephen paused and slowly looked at her.

"Mom, you are deflecting. To be honest, you always have. I don't know why I didn't see it completely until now. You are insane."

"STEPHEN WILLIAMS how dare you..."

"HOW DARE I? HOW DARE YOU!!! What the hell is your problem anyway? You have convinced me I would not be able to survive without you, convinced me I was sick, gave me medication after medication claiming it would be better."

"Because it is supposed to!"

"What about the Laxative?"

"What Laxative?"

He held out the item Michaela had placed on the desk in front of him. His mother paled.

"It's not chocolate mom, I know that now."

Her face grew dark, but she didn't speak. Stephen took a deep breath.

"Mom, I am leaving. I hope you get yourself some help, because I know I sure will need it myself."

He walked past her towards the stairs.

"Stephen! Please don't go! I love you dear! That is the reason I did this! I love you!!"

He didn't respond. Didn't look back. He hurried down the stairs, slipped on his shoes then went to the front door. His hand froze by the handle for a moment. Was this the right choice? He wasn't quite certain of himself. How would he cope in the outside world after all of his years inside? Swallowing his fear, he pulled the door open and stepped out into the bright sunlight of the cool fall afternoon.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he looked down at the sidewalk.

She was there waiting for him, a huge smile creeping across her face.

She was his future, and he as walked towards her his confidence grew with every step. He cupped her face in his hands and placed a kiss on her forehead. They would figure it out together.