7 4 | J U L I A

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I sat with my head dropped in shame as I played with the sleeves of my sweater, pulling them fully over my fingers and then pushing them back. Braxton brought me some tea and sat next to me, keeping considerable distance between us.

I squirmed as his body heat still washed over me despite the distance. Stopping with the fidgeting, I picked up the tea and bit down on my tongue as the liquid scorched my flesh.

I could sense his gaze on me but I didn't dare meet his eyes. Although he was the kindest person I'd ever met in my life, I couldn't help but trouble myself over the question of what he thought of me and if I disgusted him.

After I had locked myself in my room, he had followed and asked me if I was okay in there. I hadn't answered the door nor replied to his concern. He had left after a few minutes and only after I'd come out after a long time, did he suggest gently that we needed to talk.

"Julia," he began and I tensed. "I don't know how to approach this but what I saw today is concerning–"

"I'm not suicidal," I cut him off. "You don't have to worry about getting home one day and finding me dead in your house."

He was silent for a few moments. "I didn't think you were but I'm sorry if I sounded like I was assuming."

"D-Do you want me to leave?" It almost pained me to ask, knowing if the answer was affirmative then it will hurt more than all the torture I'd suffered under Maira and Dan, because I realized I'd grown accustomed to Braxton. Imagining my life like it is now but without him in it will feel like I was missing a limb or an arm.

"No," he didn't hesitate the slightest bit. "I want you to stay as long as you want."

Grateful tears sprang to my eyes but I quickly swiped at them before he could notice. He shifted a little closer to me.

"Those bruises and burns...are you being hurt by someone?" My fingers instinctively went to the fabric over my stomach where I knew there were a bunch of burn marks from that one day when Maira and her posse decided to put out their cigarettes in the same place. It had hurt the most than other times.

"I was...for a long time ago. But it's over now."

"Back home? In your school? Is that why you ran away?"

I nodded. "It's part of the reason but mostly I wanted to pursue singing and knew if I stayed, I wouldn't be able to do anything for myself."

He had to know I had intentionally dodged the question about the abuse being from home or school. "You don't have to tell me anything you are uncomfortable telling me about."

I didn't say anything because there was all of it that I didn't want to tell him.

"And the cuts. You do that to yourself?"

"Yes," I whispered, tugging at the ends of my pant to hide as much as I can although the cuts only occupied my thighs.

"Why? How does it help?"

"I-It just does. It kind of feels like I'm in control of what happens to me. Whenever someone hurt me, they assault my body and I don't like it...and, and I feel a sort of compulsion to...do it. That at the end of the day, it is me who last hurt myself, b-but it feels great." Fighting pain with pain must make no sense to him but only I knew the relief which washes over me to not feel the injuries inflicted by others if the most numbing ones were self inflicted.

"Do you...know that this is not the right way to forget or heal from the past?"

"I've heard. But I try...and I just do it when it's absolutely necessary." Which was everyday because there had not been a single day for many years now that was slightly better than others.

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