The Wounds He Mended

Falling Off The Face Of The Planet

I cringed.

“It’s not easy seeing it on someone else;” he began, “is it?”

I shook my head.  The one person I thought was strong was just as weak as I was.

“You need to eat something,” Scott said.  I put a chicken nugget in my mouth and chewed.  “There you go!  Good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I began, “it’s the first thing I’ve eaten in a week.”

Scott’s eyes bulged.  “Seriously?  That’s insane.”

“Yeah, well, when you’re like me, you don’t feel the need to,” I replied.

“Rian, what’s wrong?” he pleaded.  “A story for a story?”

I nodded.  “I was 12 when my dad was diagnosed with cancer and my mom blamed it on me.  She said things like ‘we could afford to pay his medical bills if we didn’t have you’ and ‘maybe if you weren’t here, everyone would be better off.’  So, I started cutting myself when I was 13; I took up burning about 2 years later once my dad died.  My mom continued to blame me for all of her problems and threatened to leave me out on the street a couple times.  I didn’t have any friends until this previous year, which did not help matters at all.  And to put the cherry on top, I was bullied a lot.”

“Wow,” Scott said, looking down at the table.  “You’ve been through a lot.”  I nodded.

“What’s your story?” I asked.

“My uncle was very abusive growing up, and I was bullied a lot in school.  Mitch and Kirstie were my only friends and I had really bad anger issues, so I got in fights a lot at school.  I hit Mitch once and I almost hit Kirstie.  I realized that when I hurt myself, I didn’t hurt the people around me as much, so I took up cutting.  Mitch and Kirstie never knew, and they still don’t.”

“Am I the first person you’ve ever told?” I asked, sitting up in my chair.

“Yes, actually, you are,” he replied, finally meeting my eyes.  “I like you, ya know?” he said, laughing a little.

“Good!  Because I like ya, too!”  We both laughed.

“So, what hotel are you staying at and is someone there waiting for you?”

“Um, actually, my mom booked a room for me, but I changed the reservations for a hotel 30 minutes outside the city,” I said and looked down at my feet.  “I’m not going home.  Ever.”

“Are you running away?” he asked.  You could hear the concern behind his voice.

“I’m 18,” I stated.  “Legally, it’s just like I’m leaving home.  I just don’t know where I’m going yet.”  My voice began to trail off.

“You can’t go,” Scott began.  I looked at him very confused.  “You can’t go without me.”

“Are you suggesting that you’re going with me?” I asked.  He nodded.  “You can’t just pick up and leave.  You have Pentatonix and a tour to finish.  No one ever cared about me; no one does care about me.  You have something to live for; I, on the other hand, do not.”

“And that’s where you are wrong.  I care about you,” the baritone said.

“You just met me,” I replied quite blandly.

“Yes, and despite what you are saying about yourself, I care about you.  You have a life to live.”

I sat there for a minute, unsure of what to say.  He couldn’t just leave.  He had Pentatonix, tour, fans, and his life to look forward to.  Scott’s only 19 for crying out loud!  But when I was being completely honest with myself, I really wanted him to come with me.  He was just like me; he was weak; he was unstable; just like me.

“You can’t just leave Pentatonix,” I said again.

“They could come with us,” Scott replied.

“So, Pentatonix is just going to fall off the face of the planet,” I said quite sarcastically, making lots of hand gestures.

“Yep,” he replied.  I looked at him incredibly shocked.

“It’s not that simple,” I stated.

“Oh, but it is.  Watch.”

He took out his phone began to type.  His phone ‘dinged’ several times and then he looked up at me smiling.

“What?” I asked, smiling.

“We are meeting the rest of the group at Charlie’s in 10 minutes,” he replied.  “We are falling off the face of the planet.  Come on; let’s go!”  He stood up quickly, grabbed my hand, and the two of us ran out of Wendy’s.