Numb (DreamNotFound)

11

TW's:
-Mentions self harm/suicide attempts
-Mentions mistreating/abuse

George's POV

I spent days like this, Clay came every day at least for an hour. No one had caught me having contact with someone luckily. To be fair, I just really liked Clay a lot. He was beautiful, I even dared looking in his eyes for a second sometimes.

His hair was cute, it seemed fluffy and messy and I loved it. He was always sweet for me and he always tried making me smile a little. He even made me a little happy somedays. It was easier to behave myself when I had something to behave myself for. If I could go outside shortly, I could maybe talk with Clay.

And today it finally was probably the happiest day in weeks. I was able to go to another place, it was still here in this building, but I was allowed to go outside once a week now.

A man came in my room and I stood up immediately, smiling brightly. 'Can I leave this room?'

'You can, but if you don't behave yourself, you go back here immediately.'

'Can I go outside today?'

'Maybe for five minutes with two security guards.'

'What the hell? I'm not a criminal, did you forget?'

'Fine, maybe one security guard and ten minutes.'

I rolled my eyes, but I was already happy to go outside. I would try and see Clay for a little, I didn't care how mad they would get at me.

'Can my parents visit me again?' I asked.

'No.'

'Can I call them?'

'You can't have contact with anyone.'

'But it's good for my mental health to see people, it makes me really happy.'

'Not the first week. If you're well behaved and you don't get mad anymore, we will see.'

'Do I get therapy now?'

'No.'

'But I need therapy. I would like to see someone or I would like to have trauma therapy.'

'But you have nothing to decide here.'

'But I'm here to get better, right? It helps me to see people.'

'You're not going outside today if you don't stop arguing.'

I sighed a little and walked with him. They showed me a different room. I had a normal bed now, I had a really small bathroom with only a toilet and I had a big window with some curtains. I was still looking at the rehab centre in front of me, I would have to tell Clay where I was.

I sat down on my bed, it was a way better bed than my last one. I looked up at the man. 'Can I ask something?'

'What?'

'Can I uh- maybe have a pen and paper? I like drawing and writing. I'm so bored all day.'

'Fine, but if you do anything weird with it, you will go back to your first room.'

'I won't, I promise.'

He nodded slowly and walked off. Now I could write back to Clay. I thought he would like that too instead of trying to read what I'm saying.

The man came back with a notebook, a pen and a pencil with an eraser. I nodded thankfully and he looked at me.

'Do you want to come outside for a little?'

I nodded heavily and stood up. Clay knew I was moving rooms and I was able to go outside today, so maybe he was somewhere waiting for me. I really hoped to see him, even though they wouldn't want me to speak with him.

'Can I have a coat? I don't want to walk outside with my scars.'

'You can't have a coat.'

'What? Why not.'

'You could hurt yourself with it.'

'What the hell, what kind of coats do you wear?'

'You can't have a coat.'

'Ugh, fine.' I rolled my eyes and sighed. Clay had already seen my scars, but I still wanted to impress him. I wanted to be beautiful for him, but no. I couldn't, because I couldn't wear a coat.

I walked with the man outside and the wind brushed through my hair. I immediately started smiling and started running around a little.

'Stay with me.'

'Please, let me enjoy the air. I have been locked inside for weeks.'

'Fine. I really have to go to the toilet, if I'm back and you're not here, you go back to your other room immediately.'

'Okay,' I said, rolling my eyes. I wasn't going away, I was only going to look for Clay.

The man walked away and I ran to the rehab centre. I looked around me and I saw Clay sitting with his therapist.

'Clay!'

Clay looked up and he saw me standing. He said something to his therapist and he nodded. Clay stood up and ran in my direction, he stopped running right in front of me, doubted a little, but then hugged me tightly.

'I'm so happy to see you. How are you?'

His eyes glanced down to my arms, but he looked back at my face right away. He smiled softly and held my shoulders.

'I feel hopeless,' I whispered. 'I'm happy to see you, I'm happy to be outside, but everything seems hopeless. There's no light in my life but you, and I don't even know you.'

'We can get to know each other. I'm down to wait months for you.'

'Why me? I'm just ugly and messed up.'

'You're beautiful, George. You're not messed up.'

'I am, I constantly hit people and I can't stop attempting suicide.'

'Well and I was a drug, alcohol and smoking addict when I was just sixteen.'

'I feel ugly and they wouldn't let me wear a coat. I wanted to hide to stupid scars for you, because I know you would never like me with those scars.'

'I already saw your scars, I don't mind. I still don't think you're ugly at all.'

'How? I'm really ugly.'

'You have to see those scars as battle scars. Without them, you wouldn't have been standing here, talking to me. Drugs, alcohol and smoking were my addictions, making me forget my pain. Without it I would have been a different person. Some things need to happen in your life. I wouldn't have met you otherwise.'

'But I could have met you everywhere but here. What does my trauma help?'

'What do you want to be later?'

'A therapist.'

'Would you have wanted that without this happening to you?'

I shook my head slowly.

'Battle scars,' he said as he kissed them.

1095 words