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Kristoph Gavin was an abusive shitlord: coping with abuse

Summary:

Just because Kristoph Gavin is behind bars doesn't mean that Phoenix Wright is magically fine. How do you cope when you realize your fairytale relationship was really beauty and the beast but in reverse?

Heavy discussions about past rape, sexual abuse, physical abuse, and emotional abuse. Nothing graphic.

One part sharing the information I learned that has helped me heal, one part projection that's hauntingly in character, one part validation/talking back to the bullshit, and one part what would other characters do if this were revealed to have happened to Phoenix?

At this point it's likely going to stay a series of short(ish) stories. Maybe there will be a narrative someday, maybe not.

I hope this brings some solace to those who are also working through this hell, and if someone has a request for me to add something leave me a comment. (as a way of coping not as some way to get their rocks off)

Seriously, anyone using these stories to get off will be cursed by the ghost of Mia Fey and I will also fucking haunt you when I die.

Notes:

For anyone else recovering, it does get better. I left a year ago and I'm happier than I've been in my entire life.

Psych discussions that Athena says are 100% real facts.

See end notes for some resources!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It'd started when Trucy wanted to practice sawing someone into quarters, and Apollo had refused to be her guinea pig again for that week. Phoenix and Athena had drawn straws, and he’d accepted his losing fate. But the moment he was locked in that box, something in his soul cried out in absolute terror, and he began to sob for a reason even he couldn't understand. It'd been almost as humiliating as it was confusing, and like someone half his age he'd run up the stairs to his room and shut the door, unable to understand where the flood of emotions were coming from.  

The next thing he knew, the door was in pieces on the floor and Apollo had skewered a piece of wood using one of Trucy's sharper stage swords. The young attorney was yelling something that sounded like a non-existent language. Athena was using her mood matrix with a hand over her mouth in horror, tears already streaming down her face in perfect silence. Widget let out a computerized scream.  It was like Phoenix could feel the fringe of reality just outside himself, like someone was telling him a garbled story underwater but the chlorine stung his eyes and throat too much for him to stay focused. He couldn't move, like he was stuck in sleep paralysis but the fear had been replaced by a strange sense of calmness. A part of him desperately wanted to say something, to extend his hand to his daughter and ask what was wrong, why she sounded so upset, but he couldn't. He didn't know why. Then Trucy teleported to his side and the simple touch of her hand broke the spell.

Trucy shook her father out of the dissociative state, and suddenly their throng of voices hit him with a palpable weight. He hadn't even realized that the room around him was so incredibly out of focus, like he was wearing glasses that were the wrong prescription, until he jumped back into his skin. The memory of where he'd been moments ago dissolved without a trace with two blinks. It took all of Phoenix's energy to focus on his daughter’s face, and his sense of fatherhood kicked in;  something was making her upset and he had to comfort her. Apollo crouched on the other side of his boss, unsure of what to do.

“Daddy! I was so worried! Why didn't you answer us? What happened?!” Trucy was crying and it finally occurred to Phoenix that he had no memory aside from a vague understanding that he'd left the black box and that he'd been sobbing profusely for an indeterminable amount of time.

“I'm… I have no idea what happened,” He sounded like he'd just emerged from the sea after being shipwrecked and swimming to shore.

“You were dissociating,” Athena tried to state factually, but a stream of tears betrayed her.

“What does Widget see?” Apollo asked as he held his bracelet still to stop it from shaking violently. He looked nearly as worried as Athena and got up to peer at the screen. She put her hand up and Apollo stopped in his tracks.

“Something very personal. I…I think Mr. Wright and I should work through this alone.”

“But-” Apollo interjected.

“It's that bastard, isn't it.” Trucy spat, the arm that wasn't around her father curled into a fist. Phoenix didn't have the energy to reprimand her language.

It was an unspoken rule that no one mention Kristoph Gavin by name unless it was absolutely necessary. It'd been a few months since Vera Misham had nearly died but his hand. Athena had joined the agency and for the first time in years Phoenix was excited about the future.  

Apollo was still sorting out his own feelings about his ex-mentor, but the name didn't cause the same emptiness mixed with horror as it did for Phoenix when even the prosecutor with the same last name was mentioned.

Athena nodded, a fresh flood of tears escaping. 

“How...are you sure?” Phoenix looked at Athena in confusion. Aside from Trucy, no one else knew about his dark relationship with Kristoph. And the only reason she knew was because of Kristoph had wormed his way into their life at the time. For five years he'd been in love with, and at the beck and call of, a man who'd gaslighted him into believing the love was mutual. When he'd finally ended the relationship, at the time because Kristoph was having an affair of all things, he'd been ignorant of the abuse. But something had clicked the night Trucy's father had been murdered, and the puzzle pieces has slowly been moving back into place since then. And Phoenix had been doing well on the road to recovery for months now; Better than ever thanks to a combination of therapy, an abuse support group, and some help from Athena with trigger management.

If the episode in the box had happened because of Kristoph, it didn't seem to add up. It didn't feel like the flashbacks he was used to, after all Dahlia had caused his first case of PTSD and he doubted that Kristoph would be his last. But for Phoenix a PTSD attack always hurled him into some specific memory and emotion. If something had played in his mind in the last couple minutes,  it was long gone now: left empty and blank like something had been written in invisible ink.

“You mean you aren't?” Athena asked. She put her electronic friend on standby.

He shook his head, and then when a wave of dizziness hit him he immediately regretted it. “I think I was crying but...I have no idea why.”

Trucy tried to learn over so she could see Widget’s display, and was annoyed to find she couldn't.

“Well fuck,” was all Athena could say as she booted widget back up with an angry swish of her wrist and a furrowed brow. That the once blaring sad emotion had returned to Phoenix’s normal, although the noise level was at 100%, whereas before it had been at 10%.

“Swear jar. Both of you actually,” Phoenix said half heartedly and pointed at the two girls. He wasn't met with the usual groans of annoyance. Instead, Athena swiftly pulled out her wallet, grabbed two quarters, and held them aloft.  

“I'll cover yours too. But the jar can wait. How are you feeling?” she redirected her attention to Phoenix.

“Fine, I think? A bit tired if anything?” He felt confused too, but he had a feeling that he shouldn't say that.

“Athena, what does it mean when you can see something but the person you're matrixing can't?” Apollo put an arm out, and Phoenix hoisted himself up so his bad back wouldn't have to sit on the floor.

“That a memory or string of memories are  really really strongly suppressed.” She tapped a couple more buttons on the screen, frowned when it didn't give her the answer she wanted and tapped them again furiously. Widget let out an “ouch”, and she gently caressed her necklace in apology.

“It's pretty common for people who've experienced prolonged trauma, especially abuse. When the hippocampus is trying to store memories it usually labels them as good, bad or neutral. Trauma fills up the 'bad’ section until it's going to overflow. And then the next time it gets a traumatic memory it doesn't know what to do, so it just chucks the memory somewhere else instead of properly filling it. This also happens when it tries to protect you from the memory itself.

Combine that with the highly protective amygdala which makes you react violently to stimuli and your brain could think you're in serious danger when it uncovers the big stacks of memory that were filed under something seemingly arbitrary like... being in a dark and enclosed space.”  

“Well, I don't think it's that . I feel fine now so I guess as long as I avoid going in little black boxes I'll be alright.”

The trio looked at him incredulously.

“Hey, I've dealt with trauma before and turned out just fine! My mentor died and that didn't haunt me.” He crossed his arms and no one could tell if he was bluffing or just overly confident, himself included.

“Mr. Wright, isn't she a literal ghost?”  

“Point taken.” He snapped his fingers and turned them into finger guns as he changed his approach. “O-okay Dahlia almost killed m. twice. and I dealt with that just fine.”  

Trucy raised her eyebrow at him. “Daddy I love you, but that's the stupidest thing you've ever said. I may have been little, but I remember you arguing about your relationship with ...the bad guy. And…I heard you tell Mr. Edgeworth  last month that you've never really had a healthy relationship and even your first love was an axe murderer.”

Oh great, now Kristoph has a Voldemort complex. He'd probably be pleased about that.

“She was a regular murderer, zero axes involved. And you can say Kristoph, I won't burst into tears.”

Athena pulled her mouth into a straight line. He felt a tear slide down and sighed.

“Well, I could . Why did that change?" 

“Trauma. Your brain decided it was safe enough to process those memories, which means you haven't been processing them at all until now. So it's not inconceivable that your current reaction is peaking.” Athena said plainly, her hand hovering over widget.

“I’d thank you for not mood matrixing me without my permission.” Phoenix said with an unintentional bite. “Sorry, I guess I'm a bit...touchy.”

“A bit. Do I need to go and hide the beanie?” Apollo asked with a bit of dry humor. He didn't seem surprised by Trucy’s utterance about his ex-boyfriend. A distant part of Phoenix wanted that to bother him more.

“No...I just don't like this. Was I really that bad back then?”

Apollo and Trucy shared the same straight lipped look that Athena had just been wearing. 

“Okay, the silence is worse than just saying yes.”

“It's not that you were bad, just...kind of a jerk? To basically everyone? I know you had a lot going on, and you definitely pulled through once Mr.Jekyll-Hyde got put away for good, but I don't think that Mr. Wright would've been much help when Clay died.”  

Phoenix looked at Apollo with shock, not in doubt or surprise at his words, but more with the realization that he was probably right. It made him nauseated. He looked at his daughter apologetically.

“Daddy, you weren't that bad. We definitely weren't nice to everyone, and we definitely exploited Apollo at first. But neither of us knew how to trust people, and I think he helped us both get better. But that doesn't mean you're done getting better.”

“So I can't just...shove all this back down where it came from?”

Trucy shook her head.

“Remember when I would have nightmares sometimes? And you tried everything to get rid of the things you thought might be causing them but nothing worked?”

“Yeah,” Phoenix remembered one occasion where he'd actually cussed out a therapist because Trucy's nightmares were becoming more frequent instead of getting better. He didn't understand that she had to get through her trauma before it would dispel until long after he'd been banned from said office indefinitely. He called to apologise later, after Kristoph had told him he was being unreasonable (and commanded it), and Trucy was permitted to continue attending as long as someone else dropped her off or she took the bus. It was one of the rare times that Kristoph's assholery had a positive outcome.

Trucy teared up a little at the strained expression that crossed her father's face and held his hand. “When the tears come the first time, it's a sign that you're doing okay enough to deal with one of the really big and terrifying memories. You have to get it out of you Daddy, it's like drinking cyanide. But in like small doses that can't  kill you outright, just keeps you feeling sick forever. ”

“So I just have to...throw up all of the bad memories?”

All three of them nodded, and Phoenix put a hand to his face in frustration with the work ahead of him.

“Maybe we should've named ourselves the Wright and Co. Trauma Agency.”

Athena snorted in laughter, while Trucy rolled her eyes, and Apollo simply looked concerned.

“I mean, how much would it cost to get the banner changed?” Apollo asked dryly with a slight grin.

“I was going to ask if you were kidding about the whole vomiting thing, but have a feeling that question might end with me getting in trouble,” Phoenix met each of their eyes for a brief moment.

“Mr. Edgeworth said something about that and how you swallowed a necklace with poison once? We don't mean it literally, unless you did that again?”

“Athena, next time I want you to dig up ancient history I'll bring a shovel, okay?”

Athena furrowed her brow and looked at Apollo for guidance.

“Metaphor,” Apollo clarified for her and she nodded in understanding. Sometimes her mind could get lost, especially when everyone's emotions were swirling. Apollo had been happy to help in the little time they'd known each other, and while she'd gotten better at realizing someone was sarcastic due to Widget's, she still needed a real person to help her identify how literal a phrase was from time to time.

Trucy nodded in response, but in the rush to check on her father, her hat was rather loose and it fell onto the floor with a clatter that released a puff of confetti and one very startled bunny.

“Sorry Houd,” Trucy picked up the shaking creature and as usual, her magic touch calmed it down.

“Truce, what have I said about bunnies spending too long in hats?”

“He was part of the saw-in-quarters trick! And when you ran off and didn't respond, i forgot about him. Temporarily.”

Phoenix gave her a fatherly look of doubt, happy for the distraction from his own mind.

“He’s only been inside since this morning, I swear!”

“Give me the hat.” Trucy handed it to him and raised an eyebrow.

“You do remember that I have only one bunny, right?”

“Thankfully. I'm just glad you have a bird keeper in change of the doves.”

“Then what can my hat tell you?”

He shook the hat, brim to the floor, and sighed. “It couldn't be that easy, just for once?”

He walked into the broom closet and the four followed close behind him. He put on a pair of gloves, reached his hand in, and did his best to remember the tricks of the hat.

“Gross, found it.”

He brought the hat over to a wastebasket and was happy to see only 2 little poop pellets. He shook the hat and one more fell out.

“Thanks for... cleaning my hat?”

“I would've been able to see if you were lying based on how much the bunny had pooped in it. If it had been a while, it would've been poop city.”

“Oh! Wait, couldn't you have just used the magatama?”

“...it's the principal of the thing okay? Besides, you know how to maneuver around it a little too well for my liking..”

“Duh, how else could be a normal teenager and go to a keggie every night?”

“...I don't know if I should be relieved or concerned that you didn't know it was called a kegger. You're gonna give your old man a heart attack with talk like that you know.”

“Eh.” She shrugged with a cheeky grin.

“Okay now I actually need to get the darn thing.”

“Daddy, I wasn't serious.”

Phoenix reached a hand under his bed and pulled out a crystalline box that housed the green rock. Seeing the locks constantly had started to feel a little invasive, so he'd asked the Fey's for a box that would block it's abilities while inside. He freed it and put it in his shirt pocket.

“About every night, yes. But now I need to know if you mispronounced it as a red herring.”

“I don't have time! I'm at the theater every night!”

“Well, what do you know, three locks.”

“Fu-”

“Trucy, Mr. Wright, this is off topic.”

“Shh Athena, I'm trying to help daddy avoid his problems,” the magician whispered into her ear. Her father gave them both a look.

“Trucy,” Athena started.

“It's not like he's gonna see a therapist at this hour, and he doesn't want you to matrix him.”

“But we know how to help!” Widget squawked.

“Help what?” Phoenix asked

“It’s a personal conversation, never you mind,” Trucy evaded.

He narrowed his eyes.

Apollo nodded with the best look of surreptitious approval in his eyes he could muster. “What? Conning is all well and good unless she does it against you?” he teased.

Exactly . Trucy I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Well maybe I will, and maybe I won't.”

“Should we move this into the main room? There's not enough space in here for Apollo and I to grab a seat.”

Trucy nodded and lead the charge over the fragments of the door, knowing full well that her father would have to follow to continue his line of questioning.

*****

 

“Wait. if you've never gone to a kegger, then what was the point of all this?!”

“To distract you.” Trucy beamed and pet the rabbit in her hand like a criminal mastermind.

Phoenix ducked out of habit and glanced upwards, happy to see that a bird wasn’t waiting for him this time. “from what?” He asked ominously, glancing to both sides.

“Daddy, you're exhausted. Time to sleep, okay?” 

He gave her a fatherly smile, minus the choked up part where he usually shed a tear or ten.

“Yeah. Thanks. Oh shit you kiddos need to get home somehow.”

“Mr. Wright, we live in the same building and it's 10 minutes away by car.” Apollo replied deadpan.

“but this is a bad neighborhood, are you sure you guys don't need a chaperone?”

“i’m twenty-”

“We got it, don't worry. We'll text you when we get home, promise.” Athena clapped a hand onto his shoulder.

“Okay, but I expect a text from each of you, Apollo .”

“Right, I've already got two dads, why not tack on a third for good measure,” Apollo muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Uh...I said goodnight. Keep an eye on him for us Trucy. I can be here in 15 if you need me.”

Athena fake coughed.  

We can be here in 15 if you need us.”

“Hey, that didn't sound like sarcasm.”

“Because it wasn't. To be honest Mr. Wright, I'm worried about you. I knew him and... Look I know it's personal, and likely not something you're keen on talking to your employees about but if you want to talk to someone who understands how he thinks and sees him for the bastard he is... I'm here." Apollo shoved both hands into his pockets. 

Athena coughed again.  

"Please just use actual words," Apollo sighed.

"Sorry. I just... I could I get a couple minutes alone with the boss?

"What about the 'we' business?!" Apollo took care not to raise his voice much and sighed. "Yeah. Come on Trucy, I've got a quarter to put in the swear jar anyways."

Phoenix didn't say a word as the two went back upstairs. He didn't know what Athena had seen on the mood matrix, but he was certain whatever it was had been bad. The fearful part of himself wanted her to leave without any discussion, after all it was his personal business and she couldn't make him talk about it. But the fatherhood instinct in him took over. Athena had already been through a great deal herself, and even though her trauma stemmed in part from the courtroom, she was doing her best to face it head on. So he took a seat on the weathered couch and ran his hands through his hair while he gathered his thoughts. He patted the cushion next to him, already assuming that Apollo and his daughter were standing with their ears to this floor like nosy teens in a cartoon.

The two sat in silence for a moment while Athena rhythmically ran her hands through her hair.

“No mood matrixing, right?” She squeaked.

He nodded. His hands were suddenly very interesting.

“Ow!” Trucy yelled from upstairs, and something fell to the ground. Phoenix bolted to his feet. Athena raised her hand to him, almost grabbing his wrist.

“Sorry daddy! We're picking up the wood but it's very rude and splintery! Apollo's wrapping them in towels now though, so it's all good!” He slouched in relief and sat back down.

“What...what did you see?” He asked quietly, like a teen who'd been caught with a nude magazine under his bed.  

“I don't know if I should say.”

Phoenix stared at the wall in calm anger.

“Because I can't remember it myself, is that why?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Tell me something , Athena. You and I still barely know each other and the idea of you knowing something so... invasive, especially at your age…” he trailed off, not even knowing where his point was headed. He saw the eager young attorney in the same light that he saw his daughter, and felt guilty for giving her this burden, intentional or not.

“If I tell you, you may not be able to sleep tonight,” her voice was heavy with tears that threatened to spill.

“If you don't, I doubt I will anyway. I'll probably keep trying to remember it myself.” He couldn't look at her, knowing that if he did they would both burst into tears. The fact was all the more annoying because he didn't understand why .

“I saw…a short clip. Maybe fifteen seconds?”

“28.” Widget beeped.

“he was… on top of you,” her word choice was tenuous but not because of the mature subject. Rather than blushing, she was pale.

Oh great it's a sex thing. Of course it's a sex thing, what else could possibly make the more humiliating than it already is?

“No more! Please!” Widget's voice rang through the apartment and hit Phoenix straight in the gut.

Tears trickled from his eyes without a sound. He was barely aware of it. At the moment all his energy was focused on speaking in a cool detached tone. “and?”

He heard her swallow. Suddenly everything that was outside of him was in hyperfocus, the creaking of the roof in the wind, the hum of the refrigerator, and a shuffle from upstairs as someone shifted their weight from one foot to the other.

“He didn't stop.” Her voice cracked with tears.

He felt like someone had pushed him into a vat of clear molasses.

“It wasn't your fault, Phoenix,” were the last works he heard as he slipped away again. All sounds  faded, except he swore he could hear a music box from his childhood tinging in the background. The sound felt warm, and he knew that the only priority he had in the world was to live inside of that sound.

Athena's tap on the shoulder brought him back to the present with a jolt. He couldn't feel it, but he heard the sound of his body crashing back into the couch after being startled.

“Mr. Wright, Mr. Wright,” Athea spoke gently. He shook his head to put his vision back into focus, and was surprised by the weight of the water on his cheeks.

“I...left again, didn't I?”

“Dissociated. Pretty deeply.”

“But I've dissocated before and I've never...is it possible to leave the world behind and lose all sense of reality, aside from knowing that's what you're doing?”

“Normal, no. Common? Yes. Especially with trauma that your brain is trying to protect you from remembering.”

“But I do remember he...he apologized after. Said he would leave but I wanted him to stay I… I loved him and he said he loved me so he couldn't have…he couldn't have right?” He looked her in the eyes, desperate for her to agree with him. 

Athena looked at the floor. “What does your gut say?”

“I…” he tried to listen, but all he could feel was a void where his gut had been, covered by a door of anxiety and fear.

“When did I forget how to listen to my gut?” It felt like he was falling through mirrors after they broke. He searched and searched but could only find fear in it's place.

Did I lose it? No. I had it. I had it that night when I called him about Magnifi's murder. When all the doubts began slotting together like the architecture of the Globe Theater.

He couldn't call it rape. It would've been easier to unhinge his jaw and swallow a cannonball whole. His throat was heavy like he'd already done so. But he could think it. A hazy memory echoed in his mind.

“Oh my God. I raped you.” He didn't know how he'd forgotten it but, Kristoph had said those words. And then the memory went blurry, like static on tv, and the next thing he remembered was begging Kristoph not to go, begging him to go back to sleep and hold him. The memory jumped again. He was awake, in Kristoph's arms feeling both safe and terrified. Loved and violated, sobbing bitter tears as he leaned into the man he loved but had to face away from for a reason he couldn't remember.

 

Chapter 2: Phone a Friend

Summary:

At some point I'll go into how Kristoph kept edgeworth away from Phoenix in some respects, but for this bit it's just gonna be more implied.
Remember no one's abuse is somehow worse than your own in a way that means you're not allowed to have trauma about it.
And despite the media Portrayl or social "ideal" physical abuse isn't somehow the WORST
All types of abuse Are bad: emotional, physical, and sexual. What an abuser choses to use doesn't make them "less bad". And sometimes they don't use another kind of abuse because they don't "need to" to get the results they want.

Notes:

If you're reading this I care about you. Just so you know.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was the December after Kristoph had been arrested for the murder of Trucy’s father, and despite feeling more like himself these past few months, suddenly he couldn't sleep and his body had returned to the familiar feeling of tense muscles, easily startled, fight or flight response that had been a Hallmark of his time with Kristoph.

He’d relied on the past assumption that Edgeworth would be awake and fighting his own demon, combined with the fact that he didn't know who else to turn to. He'd been violently dissociating for the past couple of days as the deeply repressed scars of Kristoph’s abuse had come up from the depths of the box he'd locked them away in. After his three associates had been taking care of him for the past couple days, he wanted to actually let them get the sleep he couldn't.

To his credit, the prosecutor had managed to sound awake instead of like he'd been asleep for the past two hours. Trucy had informed him of the situation in summary when he'd come to see her magic show yesterday.

“Prosecutor Edgeworth speaking.” They both knew he had called ID, but he valued the moment the phrase gave him to collect his thoughts and steady his heart rate.

“Just... checking in to see how you're doing?” Phoenix sounded like he'd fall asleep any second, and yet it was simultaneously obvious that it wasn't going to happen.

“You’re still having nightmares, I take it?”

“Ding ding ding. Trucy narced on me, didn't she.” It wasn't a question.

“She's worried about you. Obviously, I share those sentiments,” he felt a little warm under the collar of his pink pajamas, but ignored it. He knew that expressing emotion was a reliable way to put Phoenix at ease when he was distressed.

Phoenix sighed in grateful defeat. “I know, I know it's just… she already saw enough of it. And no parent wants to talk to their child about sexual abuse.”

Edgeworth paled. Trucy hadn't given him that detail, she'd equated his recent distress to a mental rehashing of one of Kristoph's more physical beatings. He felt almost hurt that Phoenix had never mentioned that aspect of it to him before. And then pushed the idea aside. He was here to talk about it now. “Undoubtedly. I'm truly sorry you had to go through that Phoenix.”

Phoenix choked up on the other line, and blew into a tissue. “I hate this. I hate that I was doing so well only to have this come back and run me over like a damn train. There are so many gaps in my memory, Miles. I'll get snippets of his face near mine, and then a feeling of utter dread and suddenly I've lost thirty minutes of time.”

“Perhaps that means you should stop trying to remember.” Edgeworth recalled similar advice he'd gotten from his therapist after his own traumatic history.

“But if I can't remember, I don't have any evidence that it really happened. What if I'm just making it all up?” He sobbed.

“Phoenix, you cannot think of this in terms of the law. I'd respect your wishes, but do you intend to have Kristoph stand trial for this as well? Because you'd have to testify right in front of him. And considering that he's already behind bars for life, I don't believe I'd be worth the toll.”

“I wouldn't have enough evidence-”

“Wright. Are you planning on bringing Kristoph Gavin to trial, yes or no?”

“No.”

“Then you have no reason to be thinking about this in terms of the legal system. Especially since it's current means of addressing domestic violence are incredibly broken.”

Phoenix sighed. He knew the man had a point, but he hadn’t yet unwired the stubborn part of his brain that had been programmed to doubt his experiences for years.

“Then how am i supposed to think through this? It doesn’t feel like any trauma i’ve ever gone through. Those felt like a dark cloud or a thunderstorm at worst, but this feels like walking through a minefield in the fog. And each-time I get blown up, my brain respawns like a videogame character. I’m supposed to do some deep breathing exercises, but every time i try my mind decides that following my breath down to the diaphragm is too familiar to something he did and i start to shake and dissociate again,” His voice trembled at the thought of attempting to be inside his own body.

“Is speaking to me helping or?”

“Yes, well i think so? Don’t tell Trucy, but i’m not sure anything is helping aside from my usual medications and a sedative for panic attacks. But I do appreciate you subbing in for the voice in my head.”

“Can you answer a question for me, if you know i’m asking without judgement?”

“Why not,” He muttered sarcastically. He was holding one of Trucy’s favorite stuffed animals, a spotted rabbit, which she’d insisted leaving in his room, just so he could hold something in his hands.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Now? No. If you mean in general, I… tried a handful of times, but it wasn't worth it. Turns out getting drunk to avoid memories doesn’t work when you’ve been assaulted while intoxicated. I can actually remember some of that one too,” The sentence felt hollow, and Phoenix felt like he was listening to someone else speak and move his lips.

“So your speech isn’t slurring from that at least.” Edgeworth got out of bed and walked downstairs to the couch in his living room, where he picked up Pess and set her on his lap with one arm.

“Probably cause i’ve gotten a whopping nine hours of sleep total over the past three days.”

“Have you tried sleeping somewhere else? Not to pry, but i’m presuming that your bed was the site of some of these...events.” Edgeworth didn’t know what to call them, although they certainly sounded like a string of rapes, Phoenix hadn’t used the word once.
“Events. that’s one way to put it,” He chuckled nervously and continued. “you know what's funny? i can call it sexual assault, even abuse, but I still can't use the big r word. If I do I feel like the word itself will come and call me a liar. Or worse, it'd fit.” He shook his head at the last bit, already discreting the idea in self defense.

“There's no need to forge ahead blindly for perfect answers. Or definitions. Right now it's imperative that you get some sleep. Which again, I feel that your current bed may be interfering with.”

“You might have a point. Trucy stayed in here with me the first night, but that didn’t help since i jumped awake a couple of times because an arm was touching me or i could hear her breathing.”

“What about your couch?”

Phoenix shuddered. He’d tried the following evening and once the fabric was at eye level he’d felt a wave of fear and had burst into tears. The nausea was so strong that he sped into the bathroom to throw up. “Worst spot in the apartment. I can only remember being curled up on it afterwards in the fetal position, as he apologized profusely for hurting me.and then everything gets really fuzzy.” He paused in shame. “what I can remember is He’d hurt me and then i’d need him to comfort me. One minute i’d be crying because he…did something, and the next I'd be begging for him to hold me in his arms where i’d feel safe for some fucked up reason that I don't understand. But I'd still be scared of him, almost as if he were two separate people at the same time. Sorry, that’s probably far too much information.” He didn’t know where the words were flowing from, probably his subconscious.

“It’s not an issue. Not that this is at all the same, but whenever Manfred would draw me close in public and act like an actual father i felt such serenity, even though a part of me knew it was always an act. My therapist said it was because of how isolated he kept Franziska and I, combined with how rarely we received any sort of validation, positive reinforcement, or affection. It often was something pitifully small, like holding my hand as we crossed the street. Or buying us pancakes at the mall. Yet in comparison to the way he’d drag my arm with enough force to dislocate my shoulder, my therapist remarked that the contrast is what made those moments feel so special. Perhaps some part of that can apply to your situation as well, or perhaps not.” He trailed off, hoping he hadn’t just invalidated the person he was supposed to be supporting. He didn’t know where the line between describing what had helped him in the past and taking over the conversation was drawn. But the confusion seemed to be eating the other man alive and he couldn't just sit idly in mutual silence.

“He dislocated your arm? Damn, here i am complaining about someone who only raised a hand to me once, meanwhile you went through real physical abuse.”

 

“Apples and oranges, or rather knives and swords?” Edgeworth’s sleepiness let him get lost in the metaphor for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“Regardless, i was perceiving our conversation quite differently. If you insist upon weighing them against each other, my abuse pales in comparison because it has less of an impact on my life in the present. And as much as it did hurt I never had the issue of feeling unsafe in my own body. I'd dissociate to escape at times, but when I returned I had all my memories, and once I got out from under the his roof I didn't have nightmares about him any longer. Even if I have my issues with physical contact, I still can be present in it. And I'm improving.”

“Yeah, but i don’t remember most of it. So yours is way worse.”

“Ah yes, that’s why it’s keeping you awake at all hours, leaving you on edge and in tears, and dissociating so strongly that you cannot hear people yelling for you as they destroy a door. How could i not see how completely unbothered you are by it?” Edgeworth suspected the sarcasm was too harsh, but sometimes the most effective way to snap Phoenix out of his current headspace was to meet him toe to toe.

“...smartass.” He curled his lips inward, half uncomfortable and half overjoyed that Edgeworth had managed to throw the evidence of how hard this was back into his face.

“You claimed to be approaching this in terms of evidence and legality, yet the law requires the utilization of logic. Truly you didn’t think i would let you bluff your way through this.” He almost smiled at the thought of Phoenix sitting in a huff.

“Thanks,” He felt like he could cry, but no tears came.

“No problem. I’m glad you called.” The usual embarrassment was kept at bay by nagging concern. He’d never heard his friend sound this rough and detached.

“Is this the first time I've told you any of this?”

“I believe so. We're spoken about the emotional abuse at some legnth, however the
only other times we've discussed anything about sexual assault have been in reference to cases in my office or the occasional client addendum.”

“Well, now I know why the Mauhler-Saqquine case was so upsetting.”

Edgeworth closed his eyes in memory. It was a relatively typical case of date rape, so much so that the only piece that stuck out in his mind was the sheer number of questions Phoenix asked him about if this truly was assault. It'd thrown him in the moment, Phoenix was rarely the one to question the victim's feelings, but they'd gone back and forth in a strange debate for a half hour about what constituted rape and assault. He remembered a sinking feeling in his stomach when Phoenix appeared almost relieved that the rapist hadn't apologized for his actions and his personality snapped back into place after that understanding. He'd gone from confusion and doubt to abject hatred for the perpetrator so rapidly it had been something Edgeworth had intended on discussing later, but it was a difficult subject to approach and at the time Edgeworth’s mind was busy protecting him from the memories of his own assault, so the conversation never happened.

“I worry that your bed has too many memories associated with it.”

“Wise deduction Sherlock. Let me just give my fairy godmother a call so she can drop one from the sky.”

He exhaled, impressed that Phoenix’s efforts to try his patience were on par with Kay Faraday. “I happen to have two extra guest bedrooms where you might be able to get some sleep.”

“Thanks, but i’m not looking for any booty calls right now,” his usual teasing tone fragmented and left him feeling hollow.

Edgeworth’s ears warmed but his anxiety grounded him. He didn’t need to discount the joke, as the hurt in Phoenix’s voice said volumes about how far the thought really was from his mind. “You need to get some sleep, otherwise you’ll continue to spiral. Trust me, I know.” He looked out the window at Christmas lights that lit up the street.

“Fuck. It’s december isn’t it, which means you’re dealing with your mess and here i am just assuming you have the energy to listen to my emotional baggage.” He’d forgotten the reason why he'd called Edgeworth at this hour to begin with. Guilt swirled in his gut. He was about to hang up, but the man’s next words surprised him.

“Actually, i’m able to sleep with little issue during this month now,” He smiled at Pess, who turned in her sleep.

“Wait seriously? That’s wonderful! I’m glad therapy is working for you.”

The fact that Phoenix sounded like himself stung Edgeworth a bit. “That does not mean you shouldn’t call me, however. If you don’t sleep tonight, I insist that you and Trucy spent tomorrow evening here. If you must, think of it as me repaying a debt to the friend who gave me the opportunity to end those nightmares for good.”

“I was just doing my job,” Phoenix said diminishingly.

“Then think of this as me doing my job as your friend. I was unable to be there for you while all of this was happening, and before you try to dismiss my feelings on account of his threats please bear in mind that nothing you can say will change my mind on this.”

“Rude. Besides, how will you know if i got any sleep or not?”

“I have a girl on the inside. She knows how to acquire decisive evidence,” Edgeworth bluffed, considering that Trucy had simply placed a baby monitor at an angle beneath a chair in the corner.

“You’ve been conspiring against me before i even made this phone call, i see. Shameless, the whole lot of you,” he smiled sadly, truly grateful.

“I’ll pick you two up tomorrow evening, 9 o’ clock sharp.”

“Thanks Edgeworth. It’s nearly four am., I should let you get some sleep,” Phoenix yawned contagiously and Edgeworth followed suit.

“You’re positive you’ll be okay? I don’t have to be at work until ten tomorrow.”

“That’s less than six hours of sleep. Someone has to fix the justice system, and i'm glad it’s you. Besides, I’m going to attempt to close my eyes as well.”

“In that case, goodnight. However, please call me if you're still having trouble. ” He returned Pess to her pet bed, where she yawned and curled up in a ball again.

“goodnight. And thanks, Miles.”

“Happy to help.” Edgeworth reset his alarm clock to 8:30 instead of the usual 6:15. Sure, his secretary might be surprised that he elected to come in at the time he was supposed to on a Friday for once, but she usually accepted a fabricated excuse without prying into his personal life.

Phoenix felt his eyes closing and took the now hot phone off of his ear, as he'd been lying down already. He slept for four and a half hours that night.

Notes:

I was with my abuser for 5 years. I loved him. At the time I considered myself bi, although he was the only person I'd ever been attracted to in any way. After leaving I figured out that I was a lesbian. While it might seem odd for a woman(ish? I'm still figuring out my gender) to project her feelings onto a mlm relationship, it just fits for me and I don't exactly understand why.

Notes:

0. Prioritize your (and your child if you have one) safety. Domestic violence shelters have space for victims of every age and gender. Sometimes the resources for men are different but they can still provide you safe shelter somewhere. Get out of there.
1. Read Why Does He Do That by Lundy.
Even if your abuser wasn't a man, it's a validating look at what abusers do and WHY THAT ISN'T OKAY.
2. Go to therapy. Go to therapy, go to therapy. If you're stuck in the America with bs health care, many therapists offer a sliding scale for those who cannot pay due to shitty insurance or otherwise. There are lots who only charge $20 a session. But pick an abuse specialist.
3. Research what a healthy relationship is. Seriously, everyone deserves a healthy relationship. This includes researching what consent means, what love actually is in terms of actions, and what respect feels like.
4. Forgive yourself for doing what you needed to survive. Forgive yourself for not knowing what you know now. Forgive yourself for staying. Forgive yourself for loving them. It's not your fault. You were decieved.
5. Go to an abuse support group. I wouldn't be where I was today without that.
6. Don't be ashamed to take psych meds if you need them. You deserve to live and not feel so shitty. Don't hate yourself for 'being on them too long' either.
7. Don't force recovery by trying to force yourself to relive traumatic events. You mind blocks shit for a reason. If you're really struggling, find a therapist that does EMDR therapy. It's amazing, and one of the few things scientifically proven to help the majority of trauma victims.

I'll add more as time goes on, but the path from victim to survivor is different for everyone. You can do it. You made it this far.