Club - a Breddy Fanfic.

23) 1/2

Warning: talk about domestic abuse/mental issues

Brett is fast asleep within minutes, but Mason has some more difficulties to fall asleep. He's lying on his back with his hands under his head, staring at the ceiling.
He ponders about Brett and what he just said now about being broken again. He hasn't heard that phrase for some time now, and hoped it would be gone forever. He thinks back at how it used to be and how they came to this point.

He remembers when he and Brett were teenagers. Brett always had a girlfriend and even sometimes a boyfriend since he was 15 or so. Granted, some relationships lasted longer than others, but he was always in love with someone, and someone with him for that matter. He was just so easy back then: he was easy to be around, easy going himself, and easy on the eyes. Admittedly, the latter only after the pimple explosions he experienced in puberty had subsided, but even then he never had to complain about a lack of admirers. The fact that he also was a musician, turned out to be a big turn on for every teenager within a mile radius. That until they found out that Brett wasn't really into pop music, but more into classical music. But because he was so laid back, it usually didn't matter: they fell hard. Mason was there. He had seen it happen countless times.

After school they went to Uni together, and not much changed. He and Brett got even more into music than before. It was always that practicing, rehearsals and concerts took more time from him than he devoted to the romance he was in, that time and time again the partner had to admit that Brett simply loved playing the violin more than the relationship he was in, resulting in another break-up. However, Brett was never very heartbroken about it.

It could have been so easy to be jealous of all the attention Brett was getting. Fortunately, as a friend, he was also fun to hang out with. Brett was witty, funny, sassy. They often laughed so hard together, that they cried. Mason's love life also improved with Brett around: Brett was so good socially, he worked wonders as his wingman. They made a good team. They respected and understood each other. And they both put music for someone else. Brett his violin, Mason his piano. They were the best friends one could wish for.

Then they graduated. Brett moved to Melbourne where he got a job in the orchestra there, got into an serious relationship with a girlfriend and they lost touch for a while. Mason tried again, but Brett seemed preoccupied. He let it go, busy himself with his orchestra and building a life in Sydney.

Then, out of the blue, he got a call from him early one morning. Mason will never forget that call for the rest of his life. Brett spoke hurriedly, mostly whispering, crying softly between sentences, begging him to come and get him, repeating the address until Mason had written it down. It wasn't clear why Brett couldn't just go to Sydney himself, but Mason understood that for some reason he couldn't and that his friend was in a lot of trouble. Of course he immediately arranged a car. It was an ugly thing, held together with duck-tape and optimism, but it drove him for all nine hours without a hitch.  

When he finally arrived at the address and rang the doorbell, the door was opened by a tall, very pretty looking lady with fantastic blond, curly hair. For a moment he wondered if he had made a mistake in the address. After he introduced himself and asked about Brett, she kindly told him he wasn't home and he wouldn't be back for the rest of the week, so he had to try later. She closed the door and as he stood there all confused, thinking about what had happened, he heard some commotion on the right side of the house.
To this day he still doesn't know why he went to look, but he did. He saw a violin case and backpack lying in the grass, and when he looked up, he saw Brett climb out of a first-story window, lower himself until he was hanging from the window frame with his arms outstretched, and then let go. He landed with a thud and quite painfully on his feet, one smashing double. Mason ran over to see if he had broken anything, but was startled by the sight of his friend. He had a black eye and his cheek was swollen. He had bruises all over and a bandage on his bow hand.
Brett didn't even greet him, just yelled a desperate "Car! Go Go Go Go Go!" He had slung the backpack and violin case over his shoulder and supported Brett to his car. The moment he turned the key to start the engine, they saw the door open and blond curls emerge. Brett almost started to hyperventilate and yelled a high-pitched "GO!" and Mason had hit the throttle full power and sped away like they belonged in some kind of action movie or a remake of Thelma & Louise.

The first hour they drove Brett just cried, softly, tears running down his cheek, not being able to stop them, not being able to talk.
For the second hour he slept from exhaustion. Mason couldn't help but glance at him time and again, and wonder what the hell had happened to him.

After waking up, Brett tried to tell him about the life he had lived for the past few years. Prior to this conversation, Mason had always believed that domestic violence was inflicted by men on women. But now he saw with his own eyes and heard with his own ears that it is also possible the other way around.
At the start it had all seem perfect, but gradually thing changed and in the end she had taken everything from him. His job, his friends, his self-esteem, his joy. Because her looks were so angelic and beautiful, and her stories so convincing, no one did anything to get him out. She had everyone eat out of her hand, including Brett's family. She had even convinced their GP that he suffered from anxiety and depression, so that he even had prescribed antidepressants for him.
No one had believed him when he said he was in trouble and needed help, and after a few encounters and subsequent repercussions, he was afraid to speak up. He couldn't get out of this narcissist's clutches and was sucked deeper and deeper, losing more and more until there was nothing left but himself in an unsafe home.
She also displayed some sadistic tendencies, which manifested themselves one night when she threatened to break his violin if he didn't do what she wanted. His precious violin, the only thing left in his life of value to him. It was the last straw. He then called the one remaining person he trusted who had not yet had her poison injected: Mason.

And as a knight in shining armour he had rescued this prince out of his prison tower. 

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Author's note: Sorry for the heavy stuff. Wednesday the rest of the story (2/2). After that it will be lighter again.
Remeber this is fiction and has nothing to do with the real life of Brett. But it's based on something in my life. One of my friends got into this situation. It still bothers me I didn't see it. We weren't very close at the time, but I still feel bad that I didn't notice it. After almost 20 years she got out herself. I am so proud of her!
If you find yourself in a similar situation, please keep trying to get help,  never give up.