PROMISES » #MeToo ✔️

EIGHT // Piper

HOW HER TRAUMA MANIFESTS

I think it's safe to say things between Micah and I are better now.

Don't look at me like that. No advances in relationships or anything, sorry to disappoint, but I kinda want to get to know him better. For all I know he could be one of those guys that are really, really attractive and then once you get to know them they are actually total assholes.

If I'm being honest, though, I really don't think that's the case with Micah. But you can never be too sure.

Based on that, you can probably guess that things are still short and slightly awkward with us. We say hi if we see each other in the hallway, or the occasional smile when we both have headphones in, but that's the extent of everything.

He has come over to my table at lunch a couple of times though, mainly because him and Tyler are best friends, and Tyler usually had to ask Taylor something, or just wanted to talk to her. So Micah tagged along – not that I minded.

Okay, that's a lie. Some days – like today, for example – I mind. I mind a hell of a lot.

Some days, I can talk to boys without issue. I can talk to Luke and Tyler without hesitation, or even ask my male teacher a question without thinking, other days, though, it's too much.

On those other days, like today, a boy's voice will throw me out of whack. Miller's doesn't usually mess with me because I know him so well, but others like the random kid sitting next to me in history or Micah (I hate saying that, but I haven't known him long enough for my brain to truly say, 'Okay, this one's safe.'), really, really take a toll on my mental state.

I know that's bad and not normal. No need to point it out.

That being said, I feel like a terrible person.

Micah is trying his hardest to have a conversation with me, but I can't focus because my brain is too busy blaring the danger sirens.

When Micah stops talking, I turn to look at him, and I know I look tired. I know he can tell because his face does this weird thing when he gets concerned where his eyebrows furrow and his eyes become soft and his lips part slightly like he wants to ask what's wrong but isn't sure if he should.

I so haven't noticed that, by the way.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, sighing deeply. "I don't mean to be rude, Mic. M'just really sleepy today."

He nods, his face still doing the concern thing, "S'okay. Is everythin' alright?"

I nod, shake my head, but then nod again. It's not, okay? Everything is not alright, but I'll be fine. I'll fix it.

"I'm okay," I finally say, but he doesn't look too convinced.

"You sure?" He asks softly, still staring at me.

I avert my eyes, hating myself for not being able to look him in the eyes. "Yeah," I pause. "I'm sure."

His lips part again like he wants to protest, but he doesn't. Instead he says, "Want a hug?"

I chuckle. It sounds so innocent, and again I feel terrible for turning him down, but I really can't hug him. Not right now, at least. Maybe on a better day. "No, thank you though."

"Okay," He smiles gently, and thankfully he doesn't seem mad or anything. That's a relief.

He's so weird.

The bell rings to end lunch, and we go our separate ways.

I sigh heavily as I watch him turn down the 200 hallway. I've really got to get this under control.

+++

After relaying to Neoma what happened during lunch today, she smiles both proudly and sadly at me. I can't figure out which emotion outweighs which in her expression.

"That's good that you noticed that," Neoma begins, tapping her pen against the arm of her chair, trying hard not to stare me down.

My eyes avert to the window almost instantly, knowing the conversation that is coming next. Actually talking and dealing with this. Sigh.

"What was going on in your head when you noticed it?" She asks, pressing the tip of her pen to the paper as she waits for me to answer.

"I mean," I chuckle, remembering one thing I was thinking. "When he asked if I was okay, I had a mental debate about it, but I remember I just kept saying 'I'm not okay, but I'll fix it.'" I pause, watching warily as she writes this all down. "And when he asked if I wanted a hug, I know I declined politely, but God, I know my body tensed up and I probably looked like I had seen a ghost."

"Was it the question that scared you or the idea of it?"

I think for a moment, blowing a sigh past my lips. "I think just the idea of physical contact with him freaked me out. M-Miles—he never touched me – that I can remember, I guess – but he still scared me enough to where hugs or any slight touching with a guy freaks me out."

"Freaks you out, how?"

Geez, we're really going full 'therapy-session' today, aren't we? "It freaks me out," I repeat, laughing. "I know it's a bad explanation for it, but it just does. In the past when guys have tried hugging me – like my dad, one time – it does nothing but make me feel like I'm back in fifth grade with him there." I don't say his name this time, and mentally curse myself for not being able to let it slide past my lips. It's just a name, but it holds so many bad memories.

Neoma nods, writing down what I explained to her. "That actually is helpful, and a perfect explanation."

"It's a good thing," I laugh shakily, running my fingers through my hair. "Because I think I'm done for now."

"Okay," She nods, understanding. "Can I ask one thing before we fully close off the topic for today?"

I nod, even though I don't want her to. It's just one question. "Sure."

"How have the nightmares and flashbacks been?"

Wow, I should have known that question was coming sooner or later. Um, okay. Wow.

"Fine," I say, and then immediately want to retract the word back into my vocal chords. "It—they've been okay. I haven't exactly thought about it either, though," I breathe, shrugging casually. "Kinda trying to avoid it." It's what I do best.

"Alright," She nods, writing it down. "Try to start the article sometime soon, if you can. It would be a huge help."

"I'll try," I promise, and this time I mean it. I'm going to try.