His Broken Angel

Chapter Twenty-Nine: You Need Help

A/N

I'm not really happy with this chapter, but moments of freak outs are needed!

I forgot to mention in the last chapter, we got over 800 reads! My eyes are literally dying to see the number 900, so let's all get it to that number.

Please read, vote, comment, and enjoy!

Next Update: Friday (it's when I culminate and I'll be in a cheery mood. Plus it gives me time to write a good chapter!)
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His Broken Angel

Chapter Twenty-Nine: You Need Help

Alex hugged me tightly to him while we sat on my bed with our legs stretched out. I sighed as my hand touched my stomach. The texture of it made me cringe.

"How long?" Alex finally asked.

I looked up at him with glassy eyes. "W-What?"

"Maggs," he sighed. "You know what I'm talking about." He unwrapped his arm and sat beside me.

I tried looking away but Alex met my gaze. My heart thudded against my chest. "Since we left the foster home-"

"Why? Why do you do this to yourself?" He pointed directly at my stomach which made it turn. "After we left? We got a family. . . We finally got a family and you decided to do this?"

"Because I needed to!" I shouted. "I didn't feel like Claire or Harry were my parents! I didn't feel anything for them, but you started to and I felt even worse. I felt like the worst kid ever!"

More tears escaped my eyes as I choked backed more. My cheeks were getting hot and I felt them go red instantly.

"So I started cutting! I started cutting because I wanted and needed to. That's why!"

Alex ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrating sigh. "You need to talk to a psychologist. Or a therapist at least."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Not that fucking shit again," I muttered.

"You need to talk to someone! You have to stop this. What if Claire or Harry or both hear about this? What if they see you doing this? Then what would you do?"

I bit my lip nervously. "T-They don't have to know-"

"And how would you know that?"

My mind raced with thoughts, all these ideas popping into my head. I wanted them to disappear, to leave me alone. Alex simply stared at me while waiting for an answer. 

"I'll stop," I finally said, more confidently than expected.

My brother looked at me with raised eyebrows. "You'll what?"

"I'll stop. I promise you that I'll stop." My mouth kept spilling lies. Lies and lies that made me want to cut even more right now. "If I don't, and if you see new scars in a week. . . Then you can take me to a psychiatrist or therapist, whatever."

Alex sighed as he crossed his arms. "There's nothing else you're hiding from me?"

I bit my tongue before saying, "No."

He looked at me once more. "Even one new scar by tomorrow and I take you to see a psychiatrist." He walked out the door, my head getting buried in my pillow as I sobbed into it.