butterfly// 5SOS

16

Elijah

The sadness I felt was indescribable.

I'd lost my brother.
I'd lost my sister.
I'd lost my friends.

Everything around me was crushed.

"Here you go buddy," mum said, passing me a bowl of soup, "I think we need an important chat,"

"Why?"

"Dad and I are really worried about your mental health. Foster care, Jasper leaving, now this- you're not okay, but does this feel temporary to you or do you have a constant worry?"

"I can be happy,"

"Struggling with things doesn't mean you can never be happy. Everytime a kid comes to our home, we offer to take them to a psychologist, to help you work through everything. Would you like that?"

"No,"

"No? I think it would help, and it doesn't make you stupid, or weak,"

"No, please mum,"

"Elijah... we've seen your medical records. You've felt beyond hopeless... twice, and we want to avoid a third time,"

"I don't wanna go,"

"For now, it's your choice, but dad and I desperately want you to talk to someone. Jasper did,"

"I'm scared,"

"It can be scary, and you are in a vulnerable position, but it will be better in the long run. We want you in our family, and we want you to be happy,"

"Am I really staying?"

"Hell yeah," she laughing quietly, tucking into her own soup, "We're sticking with you as long as you stick with us,"

We settled back with a movie on, and I thought about the conversation. I'd not been offered it before, and my mental health had been horrible. Even though I felt like crap right now, it was probably better to give it a shot when I was still able to look after myself and focus. If it stopped me hitting another low then perhaps it would be good.

To put it simply, though, I was terrified of telling anyone how I felt.

"How's your head feeling?"

"My whole body aches,"

"I think I'm calling all their parents later," she said, her phone blipping, "That's your dad, he says... is your binder broken?"

"No," I lied.

"Buddy, it's not safe to be broken. You still have another one!"

"Fine. It is broken,"

"Go and take it off then,"

I went to my room and undressed, staring at my body in the mirror. Now, it was purple, and blue, all swollen and puffy. I slid on joggers and a top, then stepped closer, studying my face.

I knew I didn't deserve this, deep down, but I still felt like I'd done things wrong. I still felt like it was my fault.

Inside, I felt gross, and disgusted with myself. They were right, I didn't even look like a boy. Mum and dad said I did, but I didn't.

However, I didn't want to start testosterone- it was daunting for me. Another big change in my life that I couldn't take right now.

Everything about the experience this morning made me feel even worse, and just as I was accepting myself, it had tumbled away.

My lip twitched, then trembled, and I shook my head, tugging at my hair. Stupid fucking hair.

I took a few steps back and grabbed a hardback book, holding it in my hands for a moment before lobbing it at the mirror, sending fragments of my reflection to the floor. That's where they belonged.