Care For Me Not, I'll Hurt You Too Much

“Let go.” You attempt to hide the tremble in your voice.

“Ken.” You can hear something in his voice. It’s not trembling as if he had been crying (like you were now), but there is sadness in it. You could practically see the frown on his face, as he holds you in place, for what? You don’t know. You can tell by the way his grip repeatedly loosens and tightens around your wrist that he’s struggling with something, but you just want him to let go.

You tug at your wrist, but his grip tightens automatically. You suddenly felt helpless against his grip. He was so much stronger than you, emotionally and physically. You felt so weak now that you were actually hoping you bruised from his grip. You were hoping that he would just squeeze your wrist harder and make bruises of his own. You were actually wanting that pain to come to you again. You wanted him to hit you across the face, or kick you into the dirt at your feet. It would prove to you exactly what you were…nothing.

Maybe with him, the physical pain you so suddenly lust after would match the mental torment you went through on a daily basis. Maybe if you made him tighten his grip more, maybe then you’d bruise. Maybe then you’d scar and bleed. Maybe then you’d get the right amount of pain you deserved for making not only your dad suffer, but him as well. Maybe then, you’d get to actually feel the extent of your own torture on them.

He doesn’t deserve this. That thought was constantly running through your mind, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. It was always there, and with what you were going through now, you just seemed to be justifying it. You deserved it, everything you got.

It seemed that all you ever brought someone was pain. You could see it in your father’s eyes and in his face every night. Now you could hear it lacing Gerard’s words. He didn’t deserve that kind of pain. He had a life; he had the potential of making and having friends. He had a family that loved him and cared about him. He was special to people, and you weren’t. He didn’t deserve to sink this low to actually be friends with you. He could do anything he’d want to you, but you wouldn’t care. It would be your payment, your karma, for doing these things to him and wounding him like this. It wouldn’t matter to you, because you knew you deserved it…even from him.

You tug helplessly at your arm again, trying to make him let go in one last effort. The better part of you told you that if you just got away and never came back then he wouldn’t get that chance to hurt, and he wouldn’t get that chance to hurt you. Your father would never get a chance to hurt you, and you wouldn’t hurt him anymore either. You just needed Gerard to let go, then you’d get away forever.

“Ken…” his voice is calmer and more relaxed than it was before. He seemed to be trying to keep something inside, or at least make you realize something.

Was this it? Was this where he says the famous last words “stay away from me”?

“Stay with me?” You nearly catch your breath as the words leave his lips.

The response however, is automatic. “No.”

It came out so quickly, and so confidently that you weren’t even sure Why you said it. You didn’t even know if you really said it at all. Then you reminded yourself He has a life. And just to shut up that little voice inside, you add He didn’t mean it anyway.

“Why?”

Why is he even asking that? Can’t he realize how bad everything around you is? You just wish that you didn’t have to tell him so. You just wish that you wouldn’t have to make him see how bad his life will get if he continues to try and spend more time with you. You just wish desperately that he didn’t have to ask that, and that you didn’t have to tell him why.

“Because I’ll hurt you too much.” With this, you’re hoping to finally make him see something. Anything at all that will make him at least start to let go of his insane thoughts of changing the way you were. Nothing could change you. Nothing.

“I’ve been hurt before.” His tone, his words, they were all set. You knew that the look on his face was one of determination, because that’s exactly what you heard. He wasn’t giving in. You hadn’t even noticed his grip had loosened until he tightened it again around your wrist, pulling lightly in an attempt to make you come closer, to make you come back…but no one can bring you back.

You didn’t move as you spoke, clearing the tremors and sadness from your tone, making it as calm and clear as his. You just never turned your head to face him. You knew that your face would give you away. The tracks of tears and the redness in your cheeks were scars just as much as the bruises around your neck were. You couldn’t bring yourself to trust him with these too. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, but persist in pushing him away.

“Not like this.”

He doesn’t respond. His silence is unnerving, but needed. He needs to be silent to think about what you’re saying. It was a fair warning. You would hurt him if he began to care about you. That’s what happened to everyone else who tried, something bad always happened to them. You were doing this for his own protection. The powers that be want you to be miserable, and will punish anyone that’s willing to change it. You had the gravestones the prove it.

You were so sure that something would happen if he cared. He can’t care. You couldn’t let him.

You can feel his grip around your wrist slacken. It was still tight enough though, that you couldn’t pull your hand free. It was still strong enough so that you couldn’t just walk away. You had already wondered if you could get away if you just suddenly began to run, but you didn’t run because you knew your chances were slim. You just needed his hand to loosen a little more for your getaway, and for his wellbeing.

Please, just make him let go.

The tears started again. It seemed to be taking an eternity for his grip to go. It seemed to be torturing you, like it always did, for him to finally see enough that he will be disgusted with you. You needed that though. You needed that hate, and you needed to be despised. You needed it because you deserved it.

You caused all the pain in your life just by existing.

Nothing was ever right in your life.

You could end it now though. You were sure. It wasn’t a matter of how far down you would go before you ended your life anymore. It was a matter of how far down you brought everyone else around you before you finally woke up and realized that this really was all your fault.

You brought him down though.

So that was enough. You were sure of it.

Silent sobbing, that’s all that you could do. You didn’t even care if you were in public. That’s all that you could do was cry. You felt the tears on your face and tasted the salt in your mouth. You were crying silently, but furtively. You hang your head down, and are reminded of the pains in your neck, but you don’t care. You cling your arms to your chest and hug yourself in an attempt of comfort. You can feel yourself ready to fall, just teetering silently on the edge, waiting to just fall and have the rest of your soul die. That’s all it would take, and you could feel yourself swaying in the non-existent breeze, just hugging yourself and waiting.

Hesitant hands reach around from behind and wrap the arms attached around you. These arms pull you back into something, so that you hugged yourself and the hands clutched at your arms. Your back rested against this thing. It was soft and warm. It offered you comfort you hadn’t felt in a long time. It protected you from yourself. It protected you from the world.

The hands loosened, and then tightened their grip along your wrists, clutching desperately at the fabric of your sleeves.

Your wrists.

You wouldn’t let yourself admit what was happening. With the realization of how weak you really were, you escaped your mind like you never had before. You were ready to die to protect them, to protect all of them…from yourself. But even then you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you allowed him to do this.

Gerard just held you there, not letting you go, but not forcing you to face him all the same. He just held you there, with your back against his chest.

The sobs still racked your body, still as silent as possible. You barely even heard yourself breathe. You made yourself do this to save whatever remnants of dignity you had left. He just held you close to him as you cried.

You don’t know how long ago he released your wrists, and you don’t know how long you stood there crying, and you don’t know how long you just stood there and allowed him to embrace you like that. But you were just thankful you didn’t see his face. This way, in the back of your mind, you could just tell yourself that this was all a dream, and that it didn’t happen.

You could tell yourself that none of this was real.

You could tell yourself that it wasn’t him.

You could pretend you ran away.

You could dream you were dead.

You could tell yourself he didn’t pull you back to life.

You could tell yourself that he didn’t break you.