believe

3. kids

"I think you need some therapy or something, Chlo." Beca mutters, laying on her back in our bedroom, all the lights off and neither of us wearing many clothes.

I shake my head while smiling. "Sweetie, I'm okay."

"Are you? Do you know what I found in the bathroom again?" She continues.

"I don't."

"Blood. In the bathroom sink. And that lines up with you wearing a hoodie while we made out. Oh, and the razor missing the actual razor part. Can't do much with just a handle." She mutters.

I roll my eyes before laying down in the bed and turning away from her. "I'm fine. Stop worrying about me."

"Stop lying to me then." She snaps back.

"I'm not lying, Beca."

"But you are."

"No, I'm not."

"So lying isn't telling me you were okay even when you were cutting your wrists?!"

"I~"

"Don't defend yourself. You know I'm right."

"You're not though!"

"Chloe. Don't try that. I know you've been hurting yourself, don't try to tell me you aren't!"

"Fine, I cut myself. Are you happy now?"

"No, I'm not! Why? Why are you doing this?"

"I keep having flashbacks and nightmares, I can't cope, I'm getting stressed out and I don't want you to worry. There's your answer. I'm going to sleep."

"Fine."

"Goodnight, Beca."

"Is that all? No goodnight kisses?"

"No."

Beca groans and turns over to face away from me. "I really do think I married a child sometimes." I mutter.

"What was that?" She asks. I laugh softly as she rolls over and glares at me. "Seriously, what did you say?"

"I said sometimes I think I married a child."

"Would a child understand the dangers of self-harm and want to desperately help you?"

"That's just much more deep than it actually is."

"Well, would they?"

"Probably not, unless they were taught about it."

"We're definitely explaining to our kids what it is so they don't get fed lies about your scars."

"Why?"

"They deserve to know the truth."

"Fair enough."

"So when are we having kids?"

I practically choke when Beca asks about when we're going to become parents. "What? It's a genuine question."

"I-I don't have an exact date for you, babe." I splutter, trying to stop laughing and catching my breath. "I know, but, do you think you're ready for them now?"

"Not really. I don't want my kids to be raised by someone who cares more about their appearance and how much they weigh than them. And I couldn't be pregnant while I worry about my weight, it would kill me." I reply. "I could carry them." Beca mumbles quietly.

I raise an eyebrow while looking at her. "You want that? Baby, you're still not fully healed from the accident."

"So? Chloe, if you want to start a family then just tell me and we can start now. I'll make some appointments and we'll do it."

"Okay..maybe we should wait a month or two."

"Alright. Whatever you're comfortable with."