Irony, therapy and a little bit of Jeremy

chapter 8

***warning chance of slight heart break ***

Chemotherapy wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Obviously it was no walk in the park, I was having poison dripped into me! But really it just felt like I was having a drip for dehydration. Occasionally I would get a horrible taste in my mouth and I would want to gag and be sick but when I had a drink it usually passed. Apparently I was the first person here because as more people filled the red recliner chairs more staff came. They even had a masseuse! It's to help with circulation but I want complaining. It was over before I knew it and I was told I would need to come back in one week.

Humming aches pin pointed my bones and I couldn't face the walk back to my ward. My nurse wheeled me back and asked me if I wanted help getting back into bed. "No thanks" I said as politely as possible.

Silence vibrated through the ward and as I sat inbertween mine and the nameless boys bed I got curious. Maybe to curious. Picking up the boys notes I scanned for his name. I was normally good with names but I just couldn't remember his. Finally I found it. 'Jermery Thomas Wesley' It was a nice name and it seemed to dance of your tounge. "Hello Jeremy Thomas Wesley" I whispered. Uncertain if he was awake I poked his foot and his dark eyelashes fluttered up revealing his warm summer sky eyes. Rising with his eyelashes his mouth tipped up to reveal his snow flake white teeth.

"Hello Willow-Sage Melrose" Grinning mischievously. How did he know my name? he continued " I peaked at your notes to see what your name is, btw you have a friend request on Facebook, and now I don't feel so bad for prying, found what you were looking for?" Laughter echoed in his voice but the accusation still made me blush. He thought I was prying.

"I was only looking for your name" I said defensively "Anyway is Thomas your father's name or something?" I said smoothly trying to change the subject.

"No he was my grandfather. He died seven years ago" Rapidly his eyes changed from happy to sad and I felt bad for bringing it up, they were obviously close.

"I'm sorry me and my big mouth, he must have been a great man" Sounding sheepish I put his notes back in the holder.

"Ha. No he wasn't" His words caught me of guard. Firstly because of the genuine hatred laced in them and secondly because such words came out of his mouth. When he looked at me he saw my confusion " Thomas was the man who put the first scars on my back, I was four..." When he started to take his top of my confusion only deepened. "If I remember correctly I broke his favorite pint glass. He always had a cigar in his mouth and as he got up he kicked me down. My shirt was ripped of and I felt the worse pain of my life. Stinging, soul shattering, exploding pain traveled through every nerve in my body as he branded me with a 5cm deep hole from his cigar." His hands brushes over what could only have been the most scarred back I will ever see. His skin looked like it was going to fall of and it was creased with scars I couldn't see a single unharmed piece of flesh. Scars on top of scars. Finally his finger found a faded hollowed out burn. Gasping I put my hand on his shoulder and instantly regretted It when he literally shuddered under my hand. "But to Thomas that wasnt enough so he continued to hit me ten times with his steel belt buckle. Then he took my blood covered t-shirt and burnt it in the fire. It was the middle of winter and he chuckled chucking me out into the pouring rain late at night, it was all apart of the punishment... He told me if I cried it would happen again and I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. I did of course , I told my teacher and Thomas went to prison. Would you believe I have never cried since?" His story brought tears to my eyes and I was speechless. What sort of person would torture a four year old over a smashed glass?

"But theres got to be at least seventy scars on your back..." I new I was pushing him but I had to know who would do this.

"Let's just say opening my mouth was the biggest mistake I ever made and I paid for it day after day. But that's a story for another time." It seemed his child hood was even more shity than mine and I felt bad for bringing the whole thing up. "Do you want to get out of here?" Looking up at him through misty eyes I nodded and he smiled. It was hard to believe someone who had been through so much could be capable of happiness.

The Great Escape wasn't that great. Really it consisted of a greasy cafe, a trip to a old fashioned sweet shop and we snuck into a wacky ware house. But it was perfect! He was perfect. I'm not going to lie and say when I looked into his eyes the world slowed down. It didn't but I can say when he smiled at me my heart fluttered and when I wasn't thinking about him I still ended up thinking about him. It was like he was a constant buzz in my mind. Every song I heard became about him. Truthfully I can say he was the only person I wanted to spend time with and the only person I wanted to be with, in every sense. Every flaw that he embedded himself in became a perfection when I looked at him. Seriously I'm 17 years old I have know Idea what love it but I'm pretty sure I'm in love with Jermery!

Dirty windows distorted the light and made the cafe look dark and drab. After the wacky wear house Jermery got a bad head ache. He explained that it was a side effect of his tumor. So in 3 hours we did a circle, we started of at the cafe and now we have ended back at the cafe. Looking down into my sweeted sewer water like tea I mused what life would be like if we were normal. Us but without the cancer. Would we know each other? probably not. Would I change us? probably not. Burnt bacon basked in the air and the only sound to be heard was the radio chucking out none stop nonsense about football.

"You asked me about the scars on my back. If I tell you, you promise you won't look at me like Im a kicked kitten?" Starting casual his voice got more urgent and his eyes searched mine.

"Of course I won't. You know you don't have to tell me anything, Right?"

"I know that but we are friends now and I don't want you to find out from anyone else." All traces of happiness that were previously lingering left. "Well when my parents first found out what my grandfather did to me they went mad. For the first couple of weeks they stayed in and were basically normal parents. But then it ended." His eyes turned hunted and he looked down into his own drink "Eventually they got board, you see my grandfather was their babysitter, he looked after me but with him gone there was nobody. So they left me on my own. I don't remember this but apparently they went away for the weekend. They left me with 3 cans of beans In the cupboards and the backdoor was unlocked. After one night my neighbors came around. They told the social worker they thought I might be home alone but I wasn't crying. I was singing. It wasnt a happy song and when I was asked why I was singing it I said 'because I'm sad and I don't know how to cry anymore' After two months in care my parents got me back." He stopped to collect his thoughts and all I could think of is a petrified little boy with messy brown hair and eyes the color of a tropical ocean. He never mentioned being poor but I can imagine him in raggy dirty clothes singing a sad song because he was never aloud to cry. How can someone become that emotionally damaged they get striped of basic human instinct. "Like before it was ok until my dad got layed of his job. My mum had just had a baby and apparently she had post traumatic stress or something. Anyway they decided to take a leaf out of my grandfathers book. They told me I was a bad person and it was my fault they were ill. People say if you tell a duck it's a dog enough times it will start to believe it. I got told I was a disgraceful human being everyday for five years. So naturally I began to believed it. I believed I deserved to get whipped with a leather belt and steel buckle and even now I still do. You know, they even told me everyone got punished and if I said anything everyone would think I was a cry baby! I was there outlet, if something went wrong it was my fault."He paused to have a sip of his drink and see my response. I was horrified by the stuff he had to go through. As he was recalling each part his eyes took on a defeated look. "The worst time was when my mum got pregnant again and she went into hospital my dad got mad he couldn't go to the bookies so he grabbed a glass bowl and smashed it onto my back. The cuts wouldn't stop bleeding so he had to take me the hospital with six shards of glass lodged in me. This was when I was nine. They denied any previous accusations and got to keep my little brother and baby sister. Now I'm in foster care. Kate and Will have appealed to adopt me since my first tumor and my parents won't give their rights up." His eyes were bone dry and I was shellshocked.

After several moments of me looking at him like a kicked kitten, the exact thing i said i wouldn't do, I said "So why do you still cut yourself?"

"I guess because I believe I deserved it. It's like I know I don't but there's this brain washed part of me that's telling me I do. So when my farther could no longer hurt me, I began to hurt myself. I Became my own out let." And the boy that couldn't cry started to hum  the most heart breaking sound I have ever, will ever, hear...