by TT Kove
But the part that liked the scars was bigger, admired them even. Blood was fascinating. The other part, the one that was horrified and ashamed, didn’t emerge until the first part had done its job properly.
‘It’s a trial and error, I guess.’ There wasn’t any guessing about it. One wrong word and my mood would flip to the exact opposite.
I knew it, Damian knew it.
Maybe he was just being nice to me to keep me from flipping out again?
But, no. I didn’t think so.
Both Mum and Grandma had told me, after we left the Café, they’d liked him and he seemed like a good bloke. They were good at reading people. They understood other people in a way I would never be able to. They’d said he seemed to like me a lot.
And if he said it and they said it, then it had to be true, right?
The rest of the members of group started filtering in, which made Mal clamp down. I wasn’t particularly interested in talking anymore either.
I went home after group.
Mum was at work, but Grandma was there.
‘Hey, love,’ she said once she realised I was hovering in the doorway into the kitchen. She’d been puttering around, cleaning and putting everything from the dishwasher away. ‘Are you hungry? I can make you something?’
‘We only had lunch a little while ago,’ I pointed out.
‘True. But you can never eat too much.’ She smiled.
I tried to mimic it, but I couldn’t. My mood had plummeted fast after lunch.
‘Are you feeling all right?’ She must’ve seen my struggle.
‘I think I’m going to go have a nap.’ I motioned my head towards the general direction of my bedroom.
‘Okay, love. I’ll be here if you need anything.’
‘Thanks, Grandma.’ I shuffled to my room and all but fell down on my bed.
My whole body felt weighted down. I hated this feeling. This empty, yet so very heavy, feeling of nothing. I couldn’t even describe it.
I tucked my duvet over me and curled up under it. I wanted to sleep. Sleep was good. When I slept there was no commitment to anything, no feelings. Unless the nightmares came. Then sleeping could be the worst thing there ever was. I hated reliving my nightmares.
I really hoped that for once I would just fall into the darkness, be consumed by it, and wake up feeling refreshed. That was what I always hoped for, but it rarely happened. If only it could happen now…
I groaned in pain as I was shoved to the floor, but I quickly opened my eyes to stare up at the man towering over me. I quivered in fear.
‘Joshua,’ Andrew drawled, gazing down at me with dazed eyes. Lust or sadism, I couldn’t decide. I couldn’t even decide which one I hoped for, which one would hurt me less. His lust was evident in other parts of his anatomy too, but he got off on causing me pain just as much as he did fucking me.
I trembled violently as he reached down to grab me. He pulled me to my feet. I tried stepping back, away from him, but he grabbed me again and started ripping my shirt up.
Tears fell from my eyes, but I stood there quietly as he undressed me. It would be over quicker if I just let him do what he wanted to do. If I didn’t fight back, he might not even hurt me as much.
Big hands grabbed at my skin and threw me down on the bed.
‘Good boy, Joshua,’ he muttered. ‘You’re such a good boy.’
I shot up in bed, eyes wide and tears streaming.
‘No, no, no.’ I sobbed as I untangled myself from the moist duvet and stumbled my way through the room and into the bathroom. I had an adjoining one and for that I was grateful.
I turned the shower on with trembling hands and I couldn’t even muster the strength to take my clothes off before I stepped inside. I sat down in the corner and drew my knees up against my chest. I rested my forehead against my kneecaps and just let the hot water pelt down over me, soaking me all the way through.
I didn’t care that I was wearing clothes, that they were getting drenched. I didn’t even feel the water.
The dream, the bloody memory, was still playing in my head, on fucking repeat.
It had been over two years now. Two years since the last time he touched me.
Why couldn’t it ever stop? Why did I have to relive everything every time I fell asleep? It wasn’t fair.
I didn’t know how long I sat there. Could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours. But when I finally calmed down enough to at least be aware of my surroundings, I turned the water off and stripped out of my clothes inside the stall.
The air was chilly once I stepped out and I found a big, fluffy towel to wrap myself up in. I sat down on the toilet and stared down at my arms. I had discarded the old gauze inside the shower, so I could see all the scars and all the cuts struggling to heal up after my last bout of cutting.
I wanted to cut again. The urge was so strong but I couldn’t find the strength to get up. I wanted to cut. I wanted to resist. I wanted to forget.
I wanted Damian. He made everything a tiny bit easier to bear.
I did find my strength eventually and I walked out into my bedroom. The towel was discarded somewhere on the way and I put on clean boxers and socks, then found a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a tight tee, and a loose shirt.
I found a bag in my closet and I stuffed a couple of changes of clothes into it. I had the toiletries I needed at his flat, since he’d bought everything for me after the first night. I grabbed my journal from the drawer in my bedside table and stuffed that into the bag too.
After a brief hesitation—at least I did hesitate—I also put my razor in the bag. I couldn’t resist. I might need it.
‘Joshua?’ Grandma stuck her head out from the living room once I was putting on my outerwear. ‘Are you leaving?’ She eyed the bag that rested at my feet.
‘Yeah. Don’t expect me home.’ I couldn’t stay. Whenever I slept in my own bed, the nightmares consumed me. I couldn’t let that happen.
I took out my phone to check the time.
Damian would be done at work soon. We could head back to his flat together if I hurried up.
I had been in too much of a hurry and arrived at the Café before he was done. I stood outside, unsure of my decision now that I was there.
What if I was too pushy? What if he didn’t appreciate me showing up once again? What if he had plans?
‘Hey, Josh.’
I whirled around. I was surprised—shocked even—that someone spoke my name. I immediately went into defence mode.
But it was only Leslie, Damian’s co-worker, the one with the light hair and the northern accent.
‘Oh. Hey.’ My heart beat a mile a minute. I had to calm myself down before it beat out of my chest.
Or before I had a reaction that would prove to the world once and for all that I was mad and belonged in a mental hospital.
‘Waiting for Damian?’ He didn’t seem to notice my erratic behaviour.
I was still raw from the memories, from not having cut. I couldn’t take much. Apparently not even a conversation. So I just nodded.
‘My shift starts when his ends.’
My heart calmed a little. My palms were sweating though, so I wiped them off on my jeans.
‘Do you like working here?’
‘I do. I’d rather be in the kitchen, but I need an education for that.’ He grinned wryly. ‘I’m starting culinary school though, so it’ll happen soon.’
‘That’s great.’ Really, it was. I was in awe of everyone who knew what they wanted to do with their life. I didn’t have a clue. Not even a single, little blink of one.
‘What are you going to do now?’
‘School,’ I replied vaguely.
‘You’re not done with A-levels yet?’ He seemed to be sympathetic.
‘No. One year left.’ I refrained from mentioning that I should’ve been done had I not failed them the first time around.
‘It’s only one year, then you can do whatever you want.’ He smiled and headed inside.
I leant against the wall next to the windows.
One year. Right.
As if I had any idea what I would be doing after that year.
Try to keep myself together, more than likely. Try to keep myself out of hospitalisation.
No wait, that was something I was trying to do now as well.
Try to keep my relationship with Damian intact. If we even had a relationship. I wasn’t sure how it worked, exactly. I’d never been in one before.
‘Josh!’
My head snapped to the side.
Damian stood there, eyebrows drawn into a frown.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’ He kept frowning at me.
‘What?’
‘You were checked out. I tried saying your name several times.’
‘Oh.’ I turned my head away so he wouldn’t see my complete humiliation. I hated when that happened, when I was so deep in my thoughts time just flew past and people couldn’t get through to me.
‘Hey, come on. I was going to get us take-away. You like curry?’ His frown had smoothed out.
Maybe he didn’t mind my dissociation?
That’s what Vincent called it, anyway.
‘I do. Curry’s great.’
We started down the road, side by side, but not touching. I wanted to keep us talking, say something that wouldn’t be completely lame.
‘Silver had fun last night.’ It was all I could think of.
‘What’d you mean?’
‘Well, with his sleep-over.’
He looked at me.
‘He told you about it?’
‘Eh, no.’ I had to chuckle, even if I was embarrassed. ‘I woke up last night, so I went to the bathroom. And I heard them.’
It took a couple of seconds for it to dawn on him, but when it did a heavy blush came over his cheeks.
I couldn’t help but smile. No matter what had happened to him in the past, there was a certain subject he was so very innocent about. One I was thoroughly not innocent in, one I was very familiar with.
But with him it wasn’t on the table.
And, for now at least, I didn’t even mind. I would go so far as to say I was grateful for it.
Is this what it feels like to fall in love?
I’ve never been in love before, so I don’t know. But whatever it is, I like what I’m feeling now. I’m only feeling it with him, so it has to be, right?
He seems to be feeling the same. He even kind of said it, didn’t he? But I can’t help but worry.
Broken, ugly, good-for-nothing me… Whatever would he want me for? He could have anyone with looks like his. So why me? There isn’t anything special about me.
Unless special means a particular skill in freaking out about every single thing. There’s nothing attractive in that.
Yet he still wants me around.
I must be doing something right.
9
We All Have Scars
Damian
‘D!’
I groaned as my shoulder was shaken. It felt like I’d just gone to sleep, so why was I being forcefully woken up already? It was clearly dark, so it was still night. I was supposed to sleep at night, not be awake.
‘D, come on. Damian! It’s Josh.’
My eyes shot up at that and I pushed myself up on my elbows.
Silver was crouched down in front of the bed and though the room was dark and I couldn’t see him, I knew it was him. It couldn’t be anyone else.
‘Josh?’ I felt the bed next to me. It was empty—and cold. Josh must’ve been up for a while. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘He’s in the bathroom. Come on, mate. I’m not sure what to do.’
I was out of the bed in seconds.
Silver stepped back, letting me pass him as I hurried into the bathroom.
Josh was curled up on the floor next to the bathtub. His sleeve was rolled up, baring his forearm. I could see the blood trickling over the scarred skin. Then I zeroed in on the razor clutched in a shaking, blood-stained hand.
Josh looked up, his green eyes shining with tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ he sobbed. ‘I’m so sorry!’
‘Hey. Shhh.’ I crouched down beside him and slid one arm around his shaking shoulders. The other I put on his hand, gently prying the razor from his bloody fingers. ‘You don’t have to apologise, Josh.’
He rocked back and forth. I pulled him close to me and his face came to rest against my collarbone, while his tears wet my T-shirt.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ Silver stood just inside the door, hesitant and uncertain.
‘Get me bandages, clean cloths, and some antiseptic, please?’
He nodded and started going through the cabinets. He deposited it at my side and crouched down next to us. He had even wet one of the cloths and now he held it out to me.
I pressed it gently against Josh’s bleeding forearm. It sucked up most of the blood, but the minute I moved it away, the blood trickled again.
Josh still sobbed against me, though he had quieted down a bit.
‘Here, let me help.’ Silver put antiseptic on one of the dry cloths, and together we managed to get Josh’s arm cleaned up and bandaged properly.
‘Did you cut your other arm too?’ I gingerly felt under the sleeve of his shirt, but there was no blood. The scarred skin was rough under my touch, reminding me that there was no smooth skin left on either of his arms, only rough scars.
‘I’m sorry,’ Josh whispered brokenly.
I ran my hand through his blond hair, caressing his scalp, while Silver finished by cleaning up Josh’s bloody fingers with the wet cloth. He hadn’t cut them, thankfully, but they’d been smeared with blood.
‘What happened?’ I knew what the answer would be, it was always the same, but it was good for Josh to get it out.
‘Dreams.’ Just as expected. ‘He was—Andrew was—I don’t want to remember what he did to me!’ The sobs increased again. I held him tighter. ‘I d-don’t want to re-remember.’
There wasn’t anything I could say to that. There wasn’t anything I could do. Forgetting wasn’t something that would ever happen, no matter how much Josh wanted to.
I exchanged a look with Silver.
He held the bloody cloths.
I glanced down at the razor I’d deposited on the floor once I’d pried it from Josh. I had no idea where he’d got it from, but it hadn’t been from our flat. I picked it up and when Silver held out a cloth, I dropped it atop it. Silver threw it all away in the rubbish.
‘Do you need more help?’ He turned back to look down at us. ‘Or do you want to be alone?’
‘I’m taking him to bed. But thank you. For everything.’ I hoped he understood just how thankful I was. For waking me, for helping Josh. For… yeah, everything.
‘You don’t have to thank me, D.’ Silver’s eyes went to Josh, who was still crying in my arms. ‘I care about him too, you know. He’s important to you. I’ll do whatever to make sure he’s okay.’
‘I know. But still, thank you.’ I couldn’t have asked for a better best mate.
Silver left the bathroom.
I listened for his bedroom door to close before I looked down at Josh.
‘Want to come back to bed?’
He nodded jerkily. I helped him stand and I kept my arm around his shoulder as we made our way back into my bedroom. I held the duvet up for Josh to crawl under and I slid in after.
He instantly rolled over to rest against my side. I wrapped my arm around him again.
‘I’m sorry I’m such a mess.’
‘You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Cutting has always been your way to deal, so it’s not something easily given up. You’re going to have setbacks. I know it and I don’t blame you.’
‘How can you even stand to look at me?’
‘Josh.’ I sighed. Hadn’t I answered that before? Several times at least. I didn’t mind his scars. They were a part of him, they told a history of just how much pain he�
�d been in. That he was still in.
I did mind that he cut, of course I did, but that was because I cared about him. I knew he couldn’t turn a switch to stop it. I knew it took time. I knew he might never find the strength to stop, that he would likely always have setbacks.
I’d read up on it online, so I would know. Knowing made it that much easier for me to understand.
But I didn’t judge him for what was wrong with him. Not at all.
‘I wish I never knew him. I wish he’d never touched me.’
‘Josh…’ There was a lot I wished for too, like that my mother had never been mentally unstable. Maybe if she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have done what she did.
But thinking like that never served any good. Not for me and certainly not for Josh. It only brought him further into the downward spiral that was his constant depression and switching moods.
His hand gripped my side tightly.
‘I want to go back to sleep. Can you hold me, please? I don’t know if I can sleep otherwise.’
‘Of course.’
He rolled over to lie on his side. I mirrored his movements so that I could press up against his back. My arm held him tight.
He relaxed slowly.
‘Thank you.’
I let my eyes fall shut when I’d felt him relax, but now I opened them again.
‘What for?’
‘For talking to me that night. For bringing me home. For putting up with me. For making my bad nights and days so much better. You have no idea how much better you make my life. I know I cut, but I haven’t cut so deep I’ve had to go to A&E in a while now. You’re there when I do cut, and you fix me up.’
I closed my eyes again.
‘That’s good to hear. That I’m some help, at least.’
‘You’re a lot more than some help. A lot more.’
I squeezed him tighter. I didn’t know what to say, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
‘We all have scars, Josh. We all have stories to tell.’ I whispered it against his hair.