Help Me Feel

Help Me Feel - Talking With Brandon

Chapter 9 – Talking With Brandon.

My body felt heavy. I could feel every thin piece of fabric that was covering my body, and the insistent beeping in my ear was something I would happily do without.

I groaned as I tried and failed to move my body. I must have cut badly last night to be in this much pain...

“Andrea?” A voice said, making my frown. Why would someone be next to me? “Andrea, come on. You can open your eyes. Please,” it begged. A flash of images and words crossed my mind, helping me connect it to Brandon. He was here? He was still here after...

After what? What had I done?

I opened my eyes, squinting against the light. “Brandon?” I asked, my voice slightly low.

“Andrea! Thank God you're okay!” I felt him hug me as the world came back into view. I'd expected to see my room, but was greeted instead by a hospital room, covered in white and machines.

“What am I doing here?”

Brandon swallowed hard, worry in his features. “You... you cut yourself. Badly. Three cuts. You almost bled out. It was too close.”

The memory was quick, replaying the last few moments in my head. “I'd needed it... I hadn't done it in a couple of weeks...” I murmured, freezing when I realized who I was talking to. Brandon hadn't known, but there was no way he was unaware now.

“What do you mean? Wait, hold on, you haven't been... you know... before? Have you?” He asked, sounding scared.

I looked over at him, biting my lip at how worried he looked. So Evie hadn't told him. Good for her.

“Brandon, I think I have to tell you the truth,” I began. I wanted to sit up a little, but when I tried to push up on my arms, it hurt.

“Careful!” He stood up quickly, helping me get into a more comfortable position in a way that meant I didn't have to use my arms.

“Thanks. Brandon, I really do have to talk to you. I was supposed to tell you the day after your birthday, but...” I trailed off.

“Just tell me,” he said, taking my hand as he sat back down.

I sighed, thinking the words over in my head until finally I said, “It started when I was six, I guess. That wasn't when I started cutting, but everything leading to now started then. I don't really remember too much, but I do remember that my mother died when I was that age.”

“Oh, yeah. You said she died...” Brandon commented.

I nodded. “I never told you how. Brandon, she killed herself. She took a gun and shot herself. I saw the whole thing.”

His mouth fell open. “You saw your mom shoot herself?” He sounded horrified. “No one, especially not a six-year old, should have to see that...”

“I know. But it happened. That's also the day my father started ignoring me. He didn't say a word. Other people planned the funeral, and then when he finally spoke he told me he was going out. He's barely home because he works all the time, and when he's not working he's drinking. I started taking care of myself when I was young, and I've been practically living alone for years. I was bullied from the age of about seven until I was around twelve. At least, when I was twelve I stopped fighting them.” I took a breath, also making sure Brandon was still paying attention. He was. “When I was twelve, that was also the first time I cut. See, my father checks in every so often with a drunken phone call and he tells me I'm exactly like my mother. I don't like being compared to her. She gave up, she didn't even try to be there for me or my father. She just shot herself and ended it.”

“That's why you got mad at Anna...” Brandon said, the realization in his tone obvious. “It's a small town, everyone would know...”

I nodded. “Yeah, that's why no one talks to me. I was bullied, until I stopped fighting because when I stopped, the teachers noticed it more and told them I had a delicate situation, so I wasn't allowed to be bullied. Everyone thinks I'd break at the wrong word, and in a way they're right. But I wouldn't do that. I thought I wanted to end it when I was twelve, but I realized if I just cut and bandaged it up, I could get some sort of release without having to take my mother's way out,” I explained. I knew this was the most Brandon had heard me talk, but he was letting it go. He was letting me tell him everything.

“Did you know my father doesn't even know when my birthday is? I only know because he used to call to tell me, but now he doesn't have a clue. His mind is too messed up from the alcohol. He doesn't recognize me, he just sees my mother in my face. I have no one, Brandon. Cutting is all I've known for the past six years,” I told him, almost pleading with him to understand. It wasn't even just help anymore, it was something I relied on.

Brandon was silent for so long, but his hand stayed in mine. Was he going to run? Think I was crazy and never want to see me again?

“I'm sorry for all you've had to go through, Andrea. But you have me, okay? Always remember you have me. You're my best friend, and I've got your back for life.”

I felt the tears in my eyes, but this time was happiness. I'd never cried for a good reason before, but here I was.

“I know. I've got your back too. I didn't aim to die, Brandon,” I said, needing him to know. “I just hadn't cut in what felt like a very long time, and I needed so much more than one could give me. I didn't even realize how bad it was until I heard the phone ringing and almost passed out trying to walk to get it...” I trailed off, noticing how pale Brandon's face was getting.

“That was me... I was trying to call you because you left your bag in the classroom. I went through it and found the number, but then I found the knife and just kind of knew why you had it...” Brandon swallowed. “I called Evie and she told me that if you weren't answering the phone I should get to your house and fast. I'm glad she made me do that. I have no idea what I would have done if you hadn't survived that...”

I was shocked to see there were actual tears in Brandon's eyes too, but at the same time I understood it.

“Do you know why I hadn't cut in a while?” I felt the need to ask. When Brandon shook his head, I continued. “Every time I went to, your face or Evie's face would appear in my mind and tell me not to. I'm addicted to it, Brandon, which is why I had to do it. I kept myself clean too long, and I couldn't handle it.” I'd never said it aloud, never even thought about it, until this second, yet I knew it was true. I'd thought it was a release, but it wasn't just that. Maybe it had started that way, but now it was also my own drug. I was hooked.

“Andrea, would you consider getting help?” Brandon asked, softly.

I looked at him, the pleading in his eyes, the desperation etched into his expression. He wanted me to get better, and now that I could admit I had a problem, I wanted me to get better. I wanted to laugh when he was funny, I wanted to stop being the person I was now. I wanted to live.

“Before I met you, I would have said no,” I told him, honestly. “But I'll do it. I'll enroll in some sort of rehabilitation and get help.”

The smile Brandon gave me was incredible. “Really? You mean it?”

I nodded, unable to resist smiling back at him. “I mean it. Thank you for not leaving.”

Brandon laughed, giving me a quick kiss on my forehead. “Never. You're my best friend for life, I promise.”

“You're mine too, Brandon. For life.”