Just A Dream

32

TW's:
-Mentions of a suicide attempt (alcohol)
-Eating disorder (weight loss/numbers)
-Mentions rehab/hospital
-Mentions self harm

Clay's POV

I recovered slowly, but after three days I could go home. I stayed at George's place for a day before returning to school. I was having a lot of trouble with not drinking and self harming and I had self harmed five times again. I couldn't drink, but it was literally making me crazy. Luckily George was with me, because otherwise I would have been drunk like ten times already.

It was morning and I looked at George next to me in bed. 'You look really thin, Georgie. Did you lose weight?'

George looked up to me. 'I haven't weighed myself,' he muttered. 'I'm scared.'

'Shall we go look together?'

George nodded slowly. 'I have been trying so hard,' he whispered with tears in his eyes. 'I have been eating a sandwich, an apple and a small bit of dinner a day.'

'That's still not enough, Georgie.'

George nodded slowly and he stood up. We walked to the bathroom and I grabbed the scale. George stood on it. I looked at the 98 pounds and I kissed his cheek. 'Is it too low?' George whispered.

I hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. 'It's really low, Georgie. Maybe, Georgie, maybe it's better for us both to seek help.'

'Help?'

'You need help, sweetie. You keep losing weight.'

'I'm trying.'

'I know you're trying, but the anorexia is still too strong.'

George nodded slowly. 'Clay, can I tell you something? Please, don't get mad at me.'

'I won't get mad.'

'When you were in hospital, I threw up all my food and I started exercising two hours again.'

'Georgie,' I whispered. I lifted him up and I sat down on bed with him on my lap. 'You really don't have to throw up.'

'But I'm really fat, Clay.' He started poking his belly.

I lifted my shirt slightly, I had hundreds of scars on there, but George didn't mind. I grabbed my own fat and I looked at George. 'You don't even have fat, Georgie. I can see your bones,' I whispered. I touched his hip bones and his ribs. 'Those aren't supposed to show.'

'I want to look like you, you're thin.'

'You would have to gain pounds to be the way I am. I know you still don't believe what I weigh, do you want me to prove it? I might have lost a little, because I have been throwing a lot because of the alcohol.'

George nodded. 'I think you weigh 100 pounds.'

'Not even close.' I grabbed the scale and stood on it. George looked at the 168 pounds in shock and he looked up at me.

'I think the scale is broken.'

'It isn't, Georgie.' I stood on it again and it showed the same number.

'You're wearing clothes,' George muttered.

'Clothes don't weigh sixty pounds, George.'

'Maybe your hoodie is already ten pounds.'

I shook my head and took off my hoodie. The number dropped with one pound and George looked at it in sadness.

'You're way too thin, Georgie. You have to gain a little bit to be healthy.'

'How much?'

'Thirty to forty pounds.'

George looked in the mirror and really slowly took off his shirt. He was way thinner than I expected him to be and I was startled a little. 'Georgie, your bones are showing everywhere. You really need help. I see it too now, I need help too. I'm really addicted.'

'But what are they going to do when they help me?'

'You're very thin so they will help you gain weight and eat more.'

'How?'

'I don't know how, but you're very thin. You might get a tube again.'

'I don't want to be away from you.'

'Georgie, even if you choose to not get help, I will choose to get help. I'm very addicted to alcohol and self harm. I don't want to anymore, but I think about it all day. I need to go into rehab to let this feeling pass.'

'Can we still see each other?'

'Maybe once a week,' I smiled as I kissed his forehead.

'Clay, can I tell you something?'

'You can.'

'When I went with Jared, he was really mean to me again.'

'What has he done?'

'I had to undress again and he was very mad at me. He hurt me and he started kissing me really roughly. It hurt a lot and I was really uncomfortable.'

I nodded slowly. 'I understand, Georgie.'

'Has the PE teacher done the same to you?'

I looked at my hands and nodded. 'That's not important, we were talking about you.'

'No, Clay. I don't want you to bottle everything up, talk to me about what happened.'

I stared at my hands without any meaning for seconds straight and I sat down on the ground, hiding my face behind my hands. I felt tears rolling down my face within seconds and George hugged me tightly.

'Five years, George,' I whispered. 'He touched me without my permission for five years long. He touched me everywhere, his goal was to have sex with me. I could stop him from having sex with me, but at what cost? Five years are ruined,' I whispered. 'I was thirteen or fourteen, George. I'm eighteen and he still touches me.'

'Come here,' George said. He held me tightly and I rested my head on his shoulder.

'Please, never touch me when I don't want you to,' I whispered.

'I won't, I will never touch you unless you ask me to.'

'Am I gross? Am I disgusting?'

'You aren't, why would you be?'

'Because of what I did to my teacher,' I whispered and I bursted into tears.

'You got forced, you were so hopeless that that was your last option.'

'I really didn't want him to touch me anymore.'

'I understand, Clay. I really do, he needs to go to prison and that's why I want you to go to the police.'

'They won't believe me,' I whispered. 'I'm a boy.'

'So?'

'That's the harsh truth, George. Sexual assault and boys is just a no for the police. I wish it wasn't like that, but it is.'

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