The CEO's Shy Girl (Editing)

#ThePast

"What?" I said confused and glanced at him but my eyes didn't stay.

"...After my mother was... taken care of... I went through a tough time. I thought if my mother didn't love me, that I was unlovable. So I started to cut. Just like you. I would do it anytime I felt desperate, or lonely. Anything that was a trigger to sadness made me want to cut. My father wanted me to stop but I couldn't. I never wanted to cut. But I would never win the fight that was up in my mind" he struggled to say. He took a deep breath and continued.

"One day I cut too deep and ended up in the hospital. After that my father sent me to a therapist. The therapist helped me stop for a while. I've had three relapses but when Carly was born it made me want to stop for good. I haven't done it since." he said and I felt his eyes staring at me to say something. There was silence for a look time until I got the courage to look at his eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?" I said through foggy eyes.

"I mean.... Isn't this why we go through things? To share with others and try to help them. All I know is that when I was going through this it was annoying to try and talk to my father because I thought he wouldn't understand. And I guess I'm telling you just in case you feel the same." he said and squeezed my hand lightly. Suddenly I felt myself relax by his words. This never really happened around him because... well you know.

"Jeanette... I think you should go see a therapist" he said in a soft voice and my body immediately went rigid. My Grandfather tired to stick me in therapy and I hated it. I felt like I was being pitied and that brought along hostility in me which irritated my therapist. That bitch had it coming when I threw her notebook at her. And then she tried to recommend me for a group of angry people. Anger management she called it.

"Therapy isn't for everybody" I said and took my hands away from him. He didn't seem pleased by that reaction and took my hands again.

"Just consider it" he said with hope in his eyes. But it was a waste. After my first therapist I promised myself to never go again.

We sat there in comfortable silence until I asked him a question.

"If you use to cut deep... how come you don't have any scars" I questioned. I mean I have seen his toned body a couple of times and I didn't really see any scars.

"I have at least one scar that I kept to remember my past. The rest are covered with tattoos" he explained.

"I'm sorry I ruined your meeting. I know this was a very big deal to you." I said changing the subject.

"Martin rearranged them so I could have all of them in the two days that you were unconscious. Your notes were very helpful and they were the main reason I considered the deal in the first place" he explained.

"The doctor said that you came here to stay with me at nights... Why would you do that?" I said as I looked down at the hand that was on top of mine.

He took his other free hand so I would look at him in the eyes "Because I..." he was about to say but stopped there. After a couple of minutes of looking at me he cleared his throat and looked away from me.

He cleared his throat and said "Because I signed a contract."

"What?" I said confused. I don't know why but I wanted him to say something else. The contract wasn't even on my mind. He might as well have stabbed me in the gut because that was how I felt.

"Yea the contract says I have to be here for everything and this is one of those things" he said as he let go of my hand so he could scratch the back of his neck.

"Yes of Course. Thank you Michael" I said as I cleared my throat.

"So how long do we have for this trip?" I continued to say.