Save me Romeo (bxb)

Chapter 12 - Buddies

Fortunately, mom was still at work when we finally got home. She sure as hell shouldn't see my cuts. She would only worry and I didn't like to see her like that. Maybe she would even think I did it on purpose. I mean, to be fair, I kind of did. But not to hurt myself, but just to let some of my anger out. The pain was just a side effect. A side effect I didn't mind too much in the moment, to be honest. I know how bad it sounds and I can't say anything that would make it better. It just wasn't good, I know. And if mom would think, or maybe know, that I did it on purpose, I sure as fuck would have to go back to therapy again. 

Don't get me wrong, I think therapy is a great thing and it can actually help you get better. But I didn't want help. Simple as that. I needed to prove to myself, that I could take care of myself. As dumb as it sounds, but I felt like accepting help was like giving up and admitting to everybody, especially yourself, that you are defeated. That you are done. Broken. I didn't want that. I needed to be strong and to show everybody that I was fine. No need to worry, not about me at least. 

When mom caught me cutting myself the first time, she broke down. Half yelling, half crying she broke down on the cold bathroom floor. It was shortly after we had moved and I guess she thought everything was suddenly ok again. Or no, she wasn't blind or anything, but I think she really hoped I was doing better. Boy was she wrong. It wasn't the first time I had cut myself. I just knew how to hide it. I had my tricks on how to cover it up and I had thought of so many different excuses to tell, if somebody would ever notice my cuts. But then she caught me. Live. While I was doing it. There was no point in denying it, now was there? 

After that, she had forced me to go therapy at least three times. I didn't want to go and I didn't really open up to the therapist, but at least I had mom off my back for a few weeks. As I said, I didn't try to get better. I just wanted to be silent. The three times I went, the therapist tried to convince me to stay and finally talk about what had happened. 

Then she wanted to talk about my childhood with my dad. I didn't like it. Although I didn't answer her, the questions really bugged me. And then I quit. Mom wasn't too happy about it, but hey, it was my decision. I was old enough to know what I wanted. She had agreed, that after I went there three times, I could still quit and so I did. 

I never went back to that damn therapist. Of course I knew I couldn't really improve my mental situation by myself. But I just didn't want to get better. My only goal was to keep it inside and be strong for my family. And I was pretty capable of doing that on my own. The therapist wanted to open old wounds, so the bleeding would stop. No thank you!

But this time it wasn't like cutting myself. And mom shouldn't know. So I went into the bathroom and unwrapped the bandages. I winced as it stung a little. What I saw wasn't very pleasing. The back of my hands were cut by uncountable little wounds. They weren't bleeding or anything, but still, they were fucking painful as fuck.

I carefully washed the dried blood off, which by the way was sooo much more painful than I ever imagined! Not to be a little bitch or anything though. Afterwards, my hands didn't even look that bad anymore. Just small cuts that could easily go unnoticed if you don't look too close. 

Then I remembered. Romeo 

He would be here any minute now. Yeah I was excited, although I really didn't want him to know that. After today, I needed to act a little cooler again and earn myself some respect back. I hated the thought that Romeo would think any less of me now. But I wouldn't blame him. 

I went to my closet and quickly changed into some grey sweat pants and a simple white t-shirt. I wanted to look chill, like I wasn't trying at all. Pff it was just Romeo. My dude Romeo. Yeah... Ok I was a mess. Fuck off.