Help Me Feel

Help Me Feel - As Time Went By

A/N: I know this is super cliche, but it's also a short story and written for two reasons. First, I wanted to write something that wasn't a player falls for ____ or a romance. Second, I wanted to spread awareness for this kind of thing. So it's very short (after this, there are two chapters), and the end of this chapter is cliche. Just  a warning.

Chapter 8 – As Time Went By.

I was supposed to tell him. Just over two weeks ago, I was supposed to have said something to Brandon, told him everything, but I hadn't been able to. He'd made me happier, and I knew he was happy. So why did I have to tell him?

I hadn't cut at all in the past couple of weeks, and it was starting to make me jumpy. I was getting paranoid about everything, and that was why I needed to tell him. I felt like an addict trying to recover from drug usage, but I was keeping inside. It was like I was too... normal.

I didn't know what to do, because every time I tried to cut, I thought of Evie, Brandon, John, Michelle... They wouldn't want me to, and that put me off.

However, I needed the release. I could feel it building inside of me every day, like a time-bomb just waiting to explode.

“Are you okay?” Brandon asked me, making me jump in my seat. We were sitting at lunch, the Friday before some teacher Monday, and I hadn't been paying attention to anything. I'd been too busy subtly scratching my hand to try and get something out of it.

“Yeah, fine,” I said, smiling. I could talk more now, smile often. It was weird, having a friend that made me this happy and comfortable, but I liked it. I liked knowing he was there for me, even if his presence limited the amount I cut. It should have been a good thing, but I couldn't see the positives. Not cutting was making me worse. I needed it to survive, as ironic as that was.

“Maybe you should go to the nurse? You look a little pale.” Brandon frowned, reaching over to place his wrist on my forehead.

I backed away. I didn't want skin contact, not right now. What if his hand slipped and I revealed a scar? It was a long shot, sure, but I couldn't handle the risk.

“I'm fine, Brandon,” I repeated.

He nodded, the obvious disapproval in his eyes. He knew I was lying, but he was going to let it go because he was my best friend. He trusted me, though I knew he had no reason to.

“So, Evie wants to know if you could hang out with us on Monday? We have something going on over the weekend, so can you?” He asked, taking a bite of his pizza.

I nodded. “Sure, sounds good.” It wasn't like we were doing anything else on that day, I might as well see him then.

The bell rang as Brandon took a final bite of the pizza, and he sighed. “Great, more school. See you in an hour!” He got up and hugged me before waving and heading off to his next class. I knew he knew there was something up with me, and I knew he was leaving before he demanded an answer.

I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. I wasn't hurting anywhere right now, which was an odd feeling. I had a couple of scabs, but other than that I was mostly scars. It was odd, not having to worry about bleeding out if someone bumped into me the wrong way.

It was also weird walking down the hallway and having no one stare at me like I was crazy. These days I was just another student, and that was because of Brandon. He really was amazing.

I got through my next class silently, actually answering a question out loud. There was the negative side; teachers also thought I was less likely to burst into tears over questions so now I was forced to pay more attention than I did before. That was good in the singular sense that it kept my mind off of the non-existent recent cuts.