The fake girlfriend deal. ||BEING HEAVILY EDITED||

Eighteen~Cuts. (Edited!)

4 Weeks Later.

 

    Riven laid out on the twin sized bed which had nothing much going for it other than the blanket. The mattress itself felt like wood. Seriously, these people didn't care much about comfort. His eyes fixate on the blank ceiling, and he drum his fingers against his chest, Riven spent most of his time in his room- until the staff forced him out to go to group therapy and one on one therapy. They wouldn't allow his new prosthetic in, and wouldn't allow him to use crutches either- saying he could "Hit someone with them". He reminded them he could do the same with a wheelchair, possibly more damage, and he ended up with the ricketiest piece of shit chair he's ever seen. 

   Riven had just finished his once a week phone call, he chose Hayes again. He'd been asking Hayes to take Yuna out to have fun, to get out there. Her friend Diamond was doing the same, but apparently it was a futile effort. 

  "You should see her man, she's pretending to be fine, but the girl is one anxiety attack away from a psych ward." Hayes had sighed over the phone earlier. Riven trusted Hayes with his life, and he knew Hayes was in a very devoted relationship to a girl named Bianca. He knew his boundaries with Yuna and wouldn't take this time to try and force her into anything. 

   "Has she hurt herself any?" Riven barely whispered, praying the answer is no.

  "I don't think so, I think she quit so you wouldn't worry about her." That line caused a pang in Riven's chest, he felt the guilt soak into his bones, because he hadn't done the same. 

  Really, he tried. He tried to stay strong. He knew that he still wanted to be with Yuna after all of this, and he tried so hard not to break. No one in rehab was allowed to have anything sharp, but on his rare trip to the courtyard, Riven had found a small sliver of metal in the bushes, undoubtedly thrown out of a window before room searches were done. 

  What's worse is Riven genuinely took the time to think about it. He knew the wrists were an obvious place to check, and he didn't want to mess up his tattoos. He cut on his ribcage, thin little lines where his shirt would cover it. He chucked the metal out of the window shortly after. 

  "Did you hear me?" Hayes pressed, "I said she's worried about you, gimme something to tell her."

 "Tell her I'm fine."

 "But I can hear in your voice that you're not."

    And here Riven was again, on the bed, staring at the ceiling, debating if he should lean out the window and get that stupid shiv and cut again, do something to get rid of the burning in his chest. He knew he shouldn't, Yuna was holding back for him, he should be able to do the same for her. At the same time, he couldn't use her as a scape goat to get healthy, that never worked and he knew it would only make him a burden onto her. 

   A staff member in gray scrubs paused by the open door, "Riven Morrow, Group therapy time. You've got two minutes."

    He had half a mind to tell them to screw off, but he knew how that would end, so he wheels out to the large room, chairs in a circle with one space open for him. People from every walk of life fill the seats. One girl rants about how she drinks because her boyfriend is an ass to her. The therapist asks what she thinks she could do instead of drinking, and Riven personally wants to drive himself into the nearest wall. 

   "Well, she could tell him to fuck off." Riven stated, speaking out of place. He hardly spoke in group scenarios, and every head turned towards him. Hell, they're probably just shocked he could speak.

   "Riven, we don't use slurs in this room, or speak out of turn."

  It was a cuss word, not a slur? Riven rolled his eyes, "Whatever."