Perfectly Wrong || Shawn M.

Part 25

WARNING: mention of self harm. Please don't read this chapter if it will make you upset❤️

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Everyone noticed.

There wasn't one person in the house that didn't suspect that something happened between Shawn and me. It was clear by the semi-permanent frowns we carried around as we carried out our routines, the way we distanced ourselves from each other, and how we came out of different rooms in the morning.

For the next three days after visiting my parents, Shawn and I were practically strangers. We greeted each other with emotionless "hello"s in the morning and said our "good night"s when it was getting late.

It hurt to see someone I cared about so much ignoring me. Of course, I was being hypocritical considering I was doing the same, but that only made the ache seem worse. Every time I stared at him and he didn't even spare me a glance, it felt like someone was squeezing many heart in the worst way possible. I physically hurt to not communicate with him.

Everyone asked us what was going on, whether it was privately or with the whole group. Every time, we would just dismiss the questions or change the subject, some things I happen to be very good at.

They knew something bad happened, and they wouldn't give up until one of us caved. They thought that if they kept bothering us, maybe we would give in at some point.

Unfortunately for them and luckily for us, Shawn and I are unusually good at keeping secrets.

I wasn't sure where Shawn got that gift, but I know for a fact that I got it from isolating myself. There were too many secrets for me to keep and no one for me to tell them to. So even if I had wanted to tell my friends what we had done, I couldn't of. I sounded bitchy and whiney by saying this, but for some reason, I couldn't find myself trusting the group with such a big event. I knew that they wouldn't even think about doing something harmful with the information, but I couldn't even trust my own thoughts at this point.

This situation reminded me of why I cut myself off from others. The fear of people and how anyone could be just like my mom. God, even wholesome little Geoff over here could've be abusive for all I knew.

So, instead of trying to conquer my habit of hiding from my problems, I drowned myself in them.

I had spent most of the past few days in a local library. I sat in the corner, pretending to read a book while telling myself what a horrible person a was for getting myself into the situation I was in. Let's be real, most people my age would stressing over which college they would go to. But me? I was falling deeper into my own toxic thoughts about problems that I caused. I was dating a famous kid, more concerned about him than the multiple college scholarships I had received.

I had a pocketknife in my bag, and I debated whether I should delve more scars in my skin with the tool. I needed another source of pain, and a few deep cuts wouldn't cause too much harm. I told myself I wouldn't do it after I moved to Nebraska, but I couldn't particularly control myself over the thought of sharp objects now that I had been brought back to my childhood trauma.

I ultimately decided against it, the biggest factor contributing to my decision being that I was extremely exhausted from not eating anything since the day of the incident. I simply didn't have enough energy to tread all the way to a private place like the bathroom.

Instead, I just sat there in my men's large blue sweater with the hood over my head. I tried to fall asleep, but my brain wouldn't stop talking to me. I was just a product of what my head and society told me to do, so I couldn't shut out my thoughts.

In the midst of wondering whether my parents would attend my funeral not, I receive an unexpected-yet-unsurprising text message from Andrew.

Today 2:31 PM
Andrew😁👓
Hey Leila. Just wanted to check in with you and make sure you're ok. If you need anything, just tell me.