Growing up (Get Scared- continued)

I'm sorry, Nick

Nick's pov.

I sit on the couch in the therapy room. The same one as always. The same damn posters, the same coffee table, the same dreaded feeling of not wanting to be here. It's been months, and I don't believe I've made any true progress. I just come in, and talk about some BS event for an hour, and leave not feeling any different. Time waster, money spender. That's what I am. 

Delilah hasn't walked in just yet. She told me to go make myself comfortable as she finished up something's from her previous client. 

It's quiet. Dead, thick silence slides down my spine and holds my throat. It's the kind of silence I'd usually get at night when all the lights are off and I'm trying not to cry. It's empty and lonely and down right depressing. 

I really don't want to be here.

The door finally opens. Delilah walks in with a smile as she says, "Hi, sorry I took so long."

I shrug my shoulders and tell her its fine. She sits down and flips the paper on her clip board to a new page. I wonder how many pages of disappointment I've filled up. 

"How are you today, Nicholas?" she asks for the 800th time. I hate answering. Fuck, I just wanna be honest, but being honest eats me alive and makes me feel vulnerable and naked. Lies keep me safe and clothed because I don't need to face the reality of things.

Once again, I just shrug.

"Not so good?" 

I shake my head a bit, looking down so I wouldn't have to look at her. That action on it's own feels like my stomach is being cut from the inside out.

"What's bothering you?" she asks.

"I don't know, I keep having nightmares and shit." Like a knife called "not being a fucking liar" stabs deeper into my stomach.

"What about?"

It's like I'm coughing up blood. The pollution must be cleaned before I can bleed the truth. All those lies and feelings I've hurt need to be fixed. 

But tearing my walls down feels impossible. 

I want to be honest.

Then be honest.

How?

I've done it before, I can do it again.

"When I was a kid, my mom's brother and his family were at our house. And I was with my cousin in my room. He was like 19 at the time, so you know naturally, I looked up to him. But then... That night... He tried to... You know.. I guess. .. Molest me?" I explain feeling like I'm going to vomit, "but I screamed and my dad broke through the door, that he apperanlty locked. And nothing happened. He didn't even touch me. But in my nightmares ... My dad doesn't come... And he does things to me... So now I don't know if I'm misremembering or if my mind is just being a total Dick to me."

"Sounds like you've been dealing with a lot. How long have these nightmares been going on?"

"A few days. And now I hate being touched in anyway possible. Which is pissing of my girlfriend because I refuse to tell anyone that I've been going through that shit."

"Maybe you should talk to her about it," she suggests.

"Maybe I should not."

---

And that's exactly what I did. I'be gone a week without telling Sheila, or anyone else, about the nightmares, about the memory, about anything I've felt. For every time I open a door in my walls, I add another lock to make sure no one else can come through. So "lock the doors so thug nobody knows where we are."

I've gone right back to imprisoning myself inside my room all day and night. pushed away that irrational fear of getting fucking raped in there enough to sleep my life away. These four walls are my only friends now. School is the only reason I will leave, and it just makes me more miserable. Being there is like getting shoved into an elevator with ten other people when you know its going to get stuck. I don't talk unless I'm spoken to. I don't move, unless it's necessary. I don't do anything. 

How did I let myself fall so hard again?

"Nick, Sheila is here!" my dad shouts from the front door.

Sheila? She didn't say anything about coming over today. Probably because I don't function enough to talk to her.

I go down the stairs and see her dressed in a black shirt that kinda falls of her left shoulder and Grey skinny jeans.  Her hair falls perfectly past her shoulders. 

"Hey," I greet, "what's up?"

"Nick, we need to talk."

My stomach sinks to the bottom of the ocean. This can go to ways, either she will make open up, or she's about to break up with me... Neither of the two are good.

"Oh.. Uh.. Okay," I stutter, "let's talk outside."

We step out onto my front porch and sit on one of the steps.  The air has finally started to cool down, and it feels nice. The cold is finally coming from external factors and not my dying body. 

"What's been going on with you?" She asks, "you've been super distant. And not just from me."

"I don't know how to answer that."

"Well fucking try, Nick!" she snaps, "I've been really patient with you, but you keep shutting me out."

"I'm- I'm sorry."

"What's wrong, Nick, this isn't like you," she says.

No, it definitely is me to shut people out suddenly and isolate myself for extended periods of time when I'm more depressed than usual.

"I don't know, Sheila, I'm just.. Sad, I guess. And it's fucking with me, so I like to just handle it alone," I explain. 

"You shouldn't do that," she says, "you can't do shit like this alone."

I shrug my shoulders. This conversation is rather difficult and tense like standing on a tight rope over the Grand Canyon... And its full of lava.

She touches my back and I twitch. I can't help it. It scares me. It scares me to be touched, or held, or anything that's remotely physical. 

Nothing happened. Nothing happened that night....

"And that too, do I disgust you now?"

"No, of course not, I just-"

"You just what, Nick?"

"I wa- I don't know." how do you tell your girlfriend you think you were abused as a kid but aren't actually sure. "Just drop it."

"I love you, and I support you, but I think I'm gonna have to do that as a friend," she says, "you're being kind of a dick."

"Wait what-"

"I'm sorry, Nick." She stands up from the step and starts walking always. Turning around slightly she says, "see ya around."

Did she just break up with me?

My heart starts racing until it feels likes going to break through my chest.

What the fuck did I do? I fucked it up. I hurt her. I'm such a piece of fucking shit. Why the fuck am I even alive right now...

(A/N its getting darker for a reason just hold on.. 

Okay so I'm gonna take a bit to update Goodbye Soul, so if you read that one, sorry for the delay. Writing two fanfics, a work on the side, music, and school work, is surprisingly time consuming so sorry about that

So my friend and I are thinking of making a video for the members of Get Scared. We want to show them how much they've meant to us, to all of us in hopes of cheering them on through their hiatus. And maybe get them to possibly end it on a good note and not break up. What we want from you guys is to send us videos about what they mean to you so we can edit it into a long video. If you want more details, dm me at lostally_ on Instagram, or send me an email at priscillaintheworks@gmail.com.)