A/N: Understand that I refuse to have this story go over fourty-five chapters, because I'm scared that I'll never let it go if I do c:
Also, come on, guys. I wasn't going to go through this entire story and not have this happen. And, no, Josh isn't going to just automatically heal Tyler with his magical love. That entire idea is bullshit, ugh.
Stay safe while you read it, though, and please don't do anything idiotic/harmful. Just message me first, alright? I'll answer you. Ask anyone. Talking to you guys is very important to me.
***
And, very suddenly, a month went by. Josh and I remained close and careful and undestined, and my mom went back to what I was prepared for her to to back to. She eventually gave me my phone back, but I didn't even consider touching it right now. In fact, I kind of wanted to throw it somewhere very very very far away, or drop it from a tall building. In fact, I wanted to do that with everything in the world, and I never wanted to see it again. It, being the world.
I felt like I've been standing in the same spot for years, unyielding to the wind and the turmoil being whipped around me, and I never tried to block my face, or shield my eyes. Maybe it's because I felt that it hadn't mattered, but now, it kind of did. And I don't think I've ever thrown up this much during the entire time I've lived, and I don't understand how I could be so repulsed by the thought of myself, when I was okay a few days ago.
I understood the fact that relapsing was a part of recovery, but that didn't mean I had to be happy about. And I knew my mom was going to be very upset when she discovers the fact that I haven't attempted to move from this very spot in two hours. I don't know what she's going to think when she sees me, but I didn't care, and I needed to care, but I didn't. I didn't I didn't I didn't-
Seeing as I knew what was going to happen, I rolled over the toilet again, the contents of my stomach lurching out of me at a ridiculous speed. I hated this. I hated this because it felt like choking, and that's one of the worst ways to die, and I'm not dying. I am sad and bleeding and puking and I just relapsed after five and a half months, but I am alive, and I should probably keep it that way. Sometimes, I don't want to, but I am aware of the fact that I have to. That's one of the things I have to constantly think in order to make sure I don't end up dying because of something careless and dumb. And I applied it now.
Because red liquid was smeared over the tile of the floor, I had blood in my hair, but I physically couldn't bring myself to care. I didn't have a shirt on, knowing I was going to make a mess, and I folded my shaking arms on my flat, pale chest, trying to catch my breath in the silence of the bathroom. My house was at that deadly quiet again, but I didn't have a television to break through all of that, and I didn't need one. I just wanted to be able to walk around like a normal person and live like a normal person and not freak out on the inside when I see knives or scissors or anything potentially dangerous, and I didn't understand why that couldn't happen. I think I deserved it.
I haven't actually allowed myself to even look at blood since the last time something like this happened, and so it felt like such a foreign thing to me now. But just because it was new, doesn't mean it wasn't comforting. And because I care about you, and the story you're receiving, I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I didn't miss it. I did.
It's like having your best friend move away, and missing them, but thinking you're over their absence, only for them to show their face again. Either way, you feel both happy and sad, because you're getting to see them, and it feels great, and you missed them and everything, but then you're going to have to deal with the healing process all over again. The reappearance makes the entire thing so much harder to suffer through a second time, and you might start to lose your patience, and tell them to go away. But then they come back, and your best friend is forever carved into your head with the force of a moving car, and it sucks.
And who knows what I'm supposed to do after this? It was unrealistic of me to think that I'll wake up really really really happy and never have to deal with anything like this ever again, and so I shouldn't be this upset about it. But, I was, and I couldn't make that part of this any better. Or worse.
I propped myself up on my elbow, trying to ignore the feeling of agony that shot through the skin of my arm, and reached for the towel being hung above me. It was white, because that's just the kind of thing that happens to me, but I yanked it down anyway. It cascaded to the floor weakly, and I bit back the tears in my eyes as I set it under my head. I didn't want to have to feel completely on the ground anymore, but I was.
Oh my god, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that, sometimes, you just don't get up. But now I was crying, which I didn't want to do, and my stomach was empty, and I was shedding a complete version of myself, and giving it away to whoever was in control. Because if I'm not, then who is, and why is this happening to me? Right now, of all times, and I didn't know if these were angry sobs or sad ones. It didn't make the biggest difference in the world at this point, but I knew I was choking again.
~~~
I sat in the bathroom, until my mom came home, and realized the bathroom light was on upstairs. I still hadn't moved, and it was eight at night. Why I picked the week she didn't have the night shift to get upset, I'll never know. But I don't think I'll ever forget the terror in her voice when she opened the door. I wasn't facing her, but the blood was still as ample on one side of me, as the other, and I kept my eyes open against the white of the bathtub. I was almost touching it with my forehead, and maybe it would have helped, considering I really wanted to cool down, despite the fact that I was freezing.
And she gasped. An honest-to-god gasp, so pained, I could almost hear it shatter her lungs. I still didn't move.
"T-Tyler?" She said quietly, falling onto her knees. The vibration moved through my body, and I tried to muster up some clever sentence to say, but it wasn't worth it, and so I just spit something out.
"What?" I croaked, wanting to push the stray lock of hair from my eyes. I didn't want to move my arms, though, because I didn't want to have to deal with another round of pain, and I also didn't really want her to see what just went on.
"Oh my god. We have to get you to a hospital." She breathed shakily, kneeling in my puddle of crimson. I just shook my head, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling from the expanse of my stomach, and I pulled my head towards the floor, praying I wouldn't have to look at her in this state. But her hands reached out to pull me up, or something, and I glared at the tub again.
"No. Don't worry. This used to happen all the time." I chuckled, my voice scratchy from laugh of use, and a lot of crying. "You wouldn't know that, though. Course not."
"Tyler, could you just explain to me what the hell is going on?" She asked.
So, I did. I decided I no longer cared about how she saw me, seeing as she'll probably always look at me through lenses that don't have anything to do with what I am, but I can't change that. Only she can, and that's the most terrifying thing.
Ignoring the excruciating pain radiating through me, I pushed myself into a sitting position, trying as hard as possible not to get my butt soaked. It didn't really make a difference in the end, though, because these clothes were ruined anyway.
"You're seeing a therapist," she said quietly, shaking her head down at my arms. They hadn't moved from there, even though I wasn't exactly displaying them. "Because I know you don't want to tell me about it, and I know you don't want to discuss it with me, and I understand." She stood up, her legs trembling, and took a deep breath, finally pulling her eyes up to mine. For the first time in a long time, I saw something in them. I don't know what, because it was probably just more anger, but it was something.
~~~
I haven't dreaded getting in the shower in a long, long time. It felt so strange to wake up and be mildly terrified of hot water. But, seeing as I wasn't a fan of cold showers, I dealt with it. It felt like literal fire, considering they weren't the most shallow marks I've ever put on my own body, but I just gritted my teeth, and watched some of the red seep down into the shower drain.
I tried not to look in the mirror too much when I got out, because I knew I looked disgusting and suspicious, and it would just make me upset all over again. During this past month, there are times when I've been upset, to a level not even remotely extreme, and Josh could tell. So hiding this from him was stupid, and I knew I couldn't do it, but I was going to try.
After I got dressed, I threw on the green sweatshirt from him, sliding the warm fabric over the damaged skin of my arms, and grabbed the bag I always kept on the floor. I tossed bandages in it last night, just because I knew there could very easily be an incident. And now I was ready to go act like I was okay, and I was also very mad over the fact that it was pouring rain.
~~~
"What's up?" Josh asked lowly, taking his keys out of the ignition. I made small talk with him the entire drive, but didn't go into anything important, and tried to focus on anything but the pain I was in. It was simple, though, once I grew used to it again. "There's obviously something wrong. Out with it."
I shrugged, shaking my head at his question. "Nothing. Nothing, why?"
He gave a sad smile, blinking down at me. He had nice eyelashes. "You know why I'm asking you. Things would be much easier if you'd just t-what is that?"
He was pointing down at my pocket, and my heart dropped to my stomach when I was met with the sight of that idiotic pamphlet the counselor gave me, and then, I discovered that the universe just wants me to be unhappy. Or, maybe I deserved this. That made a lot more sense, seeing as nothing could go my way even if I asked it to.
"Oh, um," I stammered, shoving it further from his sight. I didn't want him to know what it was, any more than I wanted to get it in the first place. But he just moved my hand from the way, and I wasn't in the position to put up much of a fight, so I let him have it.
"Tyler?"
"Yeah?"
"Where did you get this?" He asked me quietly, hurt spearing every single one of his words. But I didn't want him to be hurt over it, because me getting too upset over Josh's absence really isn't anyone's fault but mine. "No, let me rephrase that. Who gave it to you?"
I stayed silent, knawing on the inside of my lip. "Tyler."
"Josh, what?" I snapped, turning to face him at a rapid speed. "They thought you were abusive. That's it. There's nothing else to it. You're not mean to me, we know that."
He sat silently, his lips pressed into a thin line. His body seemed oddly relaxed for this kind of situation, seeing as I was yelling at him, and he just laughed, shaking his head. But now I felt bad, but I was just on edge right now, and I felt terrible. In every sense of the word.
"Is that what's bothering you, then?"
"No, Josh. No. D-don't treat me like that."
"How am I treating you?"
"Much better than I deserve, that's for sure," I scoffed, grabbing at the door handle of his car. But, because he's smart, he locked the doors. "Could you let me out of here?"
"Look, I care about you, Tyler. And I feel that what you need, is someone to see you how you really are. Which is a brilliant, gorgeous, incredibly sweet, amazing human being. So, I'm going to treat you like that. You deserve it."
Get mad at me, I thought, the words blaring in my head. Get mad at me, and treat me the way I'm supposed to be treated.
"Shut up."
He bit his lip, narrowing his eyes. "Okay."
The people outside of the car were disappearing quickly, vanishing into the school building. "Unlock the doors."
He looked me dead in the eyes, but smiled to himself, nodding. The recognizable click sounded through the vehicle, and I got out before I could actually stop myself from turning around, and confess to him that I needed help, because even though I acted independent, that didn't mean I was. My hair was soaked by the time I got inside, and my clothes were drenched. I needed the bandages.
~~~
All day, Josh didn't avoid me, but I avoided him. Honestly, I was just amazed at the fact that he was so calm when I got mad at him for essentially no reason, and I was waiting for him to storm up to me and demand to know what my problem was, but that didn't happen. In fact, he didn't walk at me once, despite all of the classes we had to together, and I missed him. Even after all of that, I was just craving his presence, like always.
Because he drove me to school, I had to walk back by myself, in the rain. I took my time, knowing my mom wasn't home yet, and ignored the cold shuddering through my body. I couldn't think too much about the fact that I was freezing, and just focused on walking, keeping my steps steady and slow.
And maybe I threw up again, on the side of the road, but it didn't matter much by the time I got home. God, everything became so incredibly insignificant as soon as I saw the tears on my mom's face, and I wish I didn't care about everything as much as I did.
***
A/N: LOL SHIT I FORGOT WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT SMUT OOPS OH WELL WAIT UNTIL Deep Breathing, okay? Okay.
And, (no offense to anyone, seeing as I have more scars than I can count), I feel that kissing someone's cuts/scars isn't really a statement to the suffering human being as much as its a statement to the other person ?? I just don't like it ?? I'll edit later c: