I thought I knew

5

"Kit Kat!" Leah shouted from the back yard, "What is taking you so long?"

What isn't taking me so long? I thought, too focused on the task before me to give her a verbal response. We were supposed to be going out again for another girls night, having some drinks in the yard with a few friends over. How was I going to get out of this? Apparently while I was off at the doctors yesterday the girls organised a get together without my knowledge and now I am in a really difficult spot. I don't find out my results for another two days! What if I am pregnant? I can't drink in case, it could be harmful to my unborn baby. Instinctively I wrap my arms around my torso as if shielding my baby from all the evil in the world.

"Katherine, are you Ok?" Leah was right outside the bathroom door now, I held my breath, what do I do? She knocked on the door.

Once. No no no, I'm not ready yet.

 Twice, oh god I can't do this.

Thrice, I threw my head into the toilet bowl and let it all out. Everything I had managed to eat today just came right back up.  My feet were banging against the tile floor, my throat feels tight, I can't breathe. 

I felt a comforting hand on my back and sweet nothings were whispered in my ear as I fought off my panic attack; the voice was like nothing I had heard before, you would think that would freak me out more yet oddly enough helped me to calm down. The source of the voice played with my hair as I lay with my head half in the toilet; I should be mortified right now, I try moving to see who it is helping me, as I try move my head in their direction however the world starts to spin again and I throw up bile and phlegm. 

"Don't move, just relax" they whispered to me, again the voice calming me. It was the last thing I heard before I promptly passed out from exhaustion. 

****

I opened my eyes slowly, the events from before I passed out catching up to me and my face heats in response; how embarrassingly disgusting!

Lifting my hand up to my face I notice that someone had changed me, my arms were no longer covered by my maroon turtle neck sweater; my arms were bare, my scars on display. I sat up, pulling the sheets off of my body frantically; I was in a nightgown. My legs bare. Arms bare. Every scar on clear display. Most were an angry red colour, long lines; jagged not straight in every direction.

This is bad, someone has seen my scars they will make fun of me now. I slowly make my way from the couch to the bathroom, my breath short and shallow, my footsteps uncoordinated but determined. I have to get ready and hide again. I have to ask the girls who helped me last night. Did they change me? I need to know who saw me at my most vulnerable state.

Turning the hot water on I take off the nightgown staring at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes following the movement of my fingers as they glided over the faint scars on my abdomen. My eyes zero in on the scar his hands had left when I refused him one night; he was drunk and got really mad, he grabbed a box cutter and sliced across my abdomen; it was a deep cut and took weeks before it started to heal. My fingers dig in either side of the scar and I grimace, as I come out of my memory. The bathroom was now full of steam, quickly hopping into the shower I washed my body and got straight out.

With a long bathroom robe wrapped securely around my body I made a move to get dressed, only to mentally face palm in realisation. I didn't bring any clothes in with me! Gripping the sleeves of the robe I open the door and make my way back to the lounge room, where I came face to face with a very upset looking Leah.

"Kat, are you ok?" She asked her glassy green eyes looking over my body. Her eyes broke my heart, usually a light green colour and full of life; now a dull green, glassy with unshed tears.

"Yeah, I wa-was just no-not feeling very we-well," I stuttered back, moving my covered hands around my torso. This is why I don't like people knowing, they start to feel sorry for me, say it could be worse. But no one knows what goes on in my head. No one knows the daemons I face everyday, they just assume I am young and dumb; I have no idea of the problems life has in store. I hate it. I hate the sympathetic looks. I hate when they try help. No one can help me, I am not worth the effort, I mean that's why he left me after all; I cut, I was unhappy and I overthought. Every. Single. Thing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks cautiously, slowly easing herself onto the couch as she waits for my response.

I look at her unsure of what to do. I mean where do I start? How do I start? It isn't exactly like I can tell her about my messed up life. She has seen my scars yes but she has yet to hear the reasons behind them; each one has it's own painful memory, another reason as to why I am who I am. They are a part of me, my past did this to me. I did this to me.

"I think you should talk about it," I feel my body stiffen in response to his voice, and then the words register in my brain; that means he saw too! I slowly turn around and stare up at his face, he was a lot closer to me than I originally thought, our bodies mere centimetres apart. His eyes are like pools of dark chocolate, and they held me captive, they also brought up a lot of pain. This mans eyes remind me of him...

"I can't," I was supposed to sound tough, my voice was supposed to be hard and void of any emotion. It wasn't though, my voice was raw and painful, those two little words and I felt my composure slip; the dam broke and my tears started to flow.