Boys Don't Cry

Chapter Twenty-three

"I don't know." I admit. "I didn't want anyone to know." I brush my hand through my hair and then put my elbow on the arm of the couch, resting my head on my hand.

"Do you feel ashamed? Or guilty?" I nod. Not looking at any of them. "Which one, ashamed or guilty?"

"Both." I avoid eye contact with both people in the room. I can feel both sets of eyes on me. "I didn't want anyone to know I was weak."

"Why would you think you're weak?" She's asks, obviously wanting to carry this topic on. I shrug again. Sarah scribbles in her notebook.

"I don't know." I mutter.

"Looking at your file, and looking at all you've been through. I think it's safe to say you're not weak, Michael." Sarah says, I start shaking my head. She's lying.

"I don't think you have anything to feel guilty or ashamed about. I don't think you're weak." My Dad adds in. I don't look at him or Sarah.

"You're just saying that to try and make me feel better." I say, not believing what they're trying to say.

I use the palm of my hand to rub my eye and then rest my head back on my hand.

"Dad, how did you find out?" Sarah asks, turning her head to look at him.

"When Michael went to see the doctor, Dr Peters came back in to the office and we explained all the issues, before we got Michael to come and speak to us." My Dad replies, looking at both of us. She scribbles again in her notebook.

"What were your feelings, towards it?" She asks, looking up at him from her book. My Dad takes a deep breath before answering.

"I was worried and extremely concerned. I know I haven't known him very long, but that doesn't mean I don't care." He takes his hand and runs it through his hair, just like I do. "I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of. Shouldn't feel weak or guilty about it." I still don't even attempt to look either of them in the eye. Everything goes quiet for a brief second.

"Michael, why didn't you want your Dad to know about John?" She says his name as though it's nothing, I close my eyes at the sound of it. I shake my head and say nothing. I suddenly start to feel sick at the mention of his name. Everything comes flooding back. The pain, the shooting pain through my body. The state of my face after it, the swollen cheeks and lips, the black eyes, and broken ribs. My hand unintentionally wanders down to my ribcage, and holds itself there, clutching my stomach protectively. I remember hearing my trousers rip, and my t-shirt. I remember all the torturous tests, the DNA tests, the blood tests, the brain scans just to make sure my fractured skull didn't damage anything. "Michael, are you with us?" I hear Sarah's faint voice, like I'm in some sort of tunnel. I snap back to reality, I manage to blink the tears away. I nod, unable to speak without my voice cracking and the tears flowing. "Why didn't you want your dad to find out?" She repeats in a softer tone. I stare at the floor.

"Why would I want anyone to know that?" I ask calmly, seriously questioning why anyone would want to tell someone that.

"Speaking about it sometimes helps." Sarah suggests. Scribbling for the one millionth time her notebook.

"Well I didn't want someone to look at me and think of me differently - think I was disgusting."

"I don't think that." My dad cuts in. I start shaking my head, getting angry.

"Don't you dare tell me that you don't look at me differently, now that you know." I spit, with gritted teeth.

"I don't think that." He repeats.

"Don't you dare sit there and tell me you don't look at me differently, because I know you do.." I'm getting angry and there's tears streaming down my face. I take my hand and rub my eyes, brushing the tears on to my sleeve.

"Why would I?" He answers back, He's waiting for an answer.

"Because it's disgusting." I whisper.

"It wasn't your fault." My Dad whispers back. I shrug.

"Probably was..." I mutter under my breath. I've calmed down a little. I look at the clock on the wall, ten minutes to go.

"Michael, Why would you think it was your fault?" Sarah asks softly. I shrug and shake my head.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

I say, still shaking my head. Sarah nods her head in agreement.

"I think we could leave it there for today, you have both done extremely well. Such an improvement from last week, Michael." She smiles, gathering her things. I compose myself, ready to leave the room, I stand up and my dad copies me. I walk out and walk down the corridor, I get to the foyer and see Katherine standing with Nicole. I try to walk past them but she noticed and stops me.

"How did the session go?" Katherine asks, stopping her conversation with Nicole.

"Fine." I say, being blunt. I look at the ground, instead of her. My dad walks up behind me and places a firm hand on my shoulder.

"That's good then, you'll be out of here soon enough." She smiles. I hope this means she's made a decision although I don't hold out much how. Especially considering how fucked up I sounded in that room. I go to walk to my room, knowing that Katherine, my Dad and Sarah will want to speak about me alone.

"Michael, can I have a word?" It's my Dad. The others walk away in to the office and wait for him to finish before they start their meeting. I stand in front of him, almost the same height, facing the floor, avoiding eye contact. "I should probably give you this, it's Monday." He hands me my phone, which I put in my pocket without looking up at him.

"Thanks." I mutter.

"Look at me for a sec." I reluctantly look up. His eyes are on me. "I meant what I said in there. None of this is anything to be ashamed of. I don't think you're weak, and it wasn't your fault." I take my eyes off him for a brief second, and then move them back.

"Ok." I mumble, nodding weakly.

"I want you to do me a favour, I want you to go see Hayley and cheer up, because things will get better from now on. That's a promise." He looks at me a gives me a quick smile, which I return. " I'll see you on Thursday, okay?" I smile again and nod. Then he turns to walk in to the office. He better be right.