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

“What happened?” Gerard asks, staring down at your position still on the floor and crossing his arms over his chest. You didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know what to do as well, or if he was angry or upset with you. You hoped it was the second one.

You stare up at him blankly, seeing him search the carpet at your feet for answers instead of your face. You pull your knees into your chest and cross your arms over them, resting your chin on top of them. You didn’t know what to do now. You didn’t know how to act, how to feel at this moment. You knew you should feel scared. After all, this was one of the things that you most certainly didn’t want to ever happen. Your heart was still beating out of time in your chest, and your breathing was still heavy, but this sudden apathy that washed over you made everything seem unimportant.

You couldn’t feel anything anymore.

You take a deep breath and sigh into your lap, shaking your head and biting your lip, attempting to hold back the sudden bout of tears that decided to assault your eyes.

“Come here.” You hear Gerard say forcefully.

But you didn’t move. You didn’t even know if you were still capable. All of your limbs felt weak and refused to obey any command you gave them. Besides, you felt that if you moved then you would break down in front of him. So you stayed put.

“Kendall, get up.” You hear Gerard say, his voice still sounding strong, but a bit softer than the words he previously uttered.

You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, mentally preparing yourself.

Okay, just get ready. Just move and stand up. but your body refused to comply with your wishes. Like you discovered before, you had no control over your limbs.

You waited several seconds before trying again Okay, do it now.

Again, nothing happened. It seemed your body was still stuck in autopilot, playing dead and shut off from the world while your mind reeled for it to start moving. Please? You nearly begged yourself, nearly bringing the tears to your eyes once more as you continued to rest your head against your arms. You took in another shuddering breath, biting back the tears with more difficulty.

Please….do something.

You felt a hand wrap around your bicep, pulling lightly until your arm fell from its perch on your knees. Gerard grabbed you and pulled you up to your feet, while you still kept your head down, trying to calm you breathing and hold back the rest of the tears. You didn’t want to look even more pathetic in front of him. You didn’t want him to become even more disgusted with you. You wanted to look mildly presentable, even if he was the one that was holding you up at the moment.

“What are you doing here?” You hear him ask, not registering a tone, but your mind immediately cracking and firing off with assumptions and hallucinations.

Why was he asking you that? You thought that…you thought he would be okay with you showing up. Didn’t he once say “If you ever need anything, then just stop by.”

Yes. You clearly remembered him saying that. But now…it seems as if he never meant it.

“I’m sorry.” You utter feebily, making an attempt to stand up on your own, even if you were currently leaning heavily against the wall.

You hear him sigh, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. All the while…you were waiting. You were waiting for him to tell you that you shouldn’t be here now. You were waiting for him to tell you to leave right now. And you were waiting for him to start getting after you for showing up.

But why wait for him to do it? Why not save him the trouble?

“I’m sorry.” You say again, barely above a whisper.

His grip on your arm slackens as you pull yourself up, standing independently from the wall. You keep your eyes closed as you walk past him, breaking your arm free from his hand as you step toward the door. You could have literally walked through this entire house with your eyes closed, so you weren’t worried about opening your eyes. Besides, the light was giving you a migraine already.

You had composed yourself enough to do that, but inside your mind still waged its torment. You could feel a pain so heavy weighing down on your heart and pulling it deep within your chest so that everything felt constricting. This pain, wherever it came from hurt so bad. You didn’t know what it was, but somehow you felt rejected. You felt as if you had just been pushed away and let down by something you placed so much faith in.

Yes, it was rejection. You knew the feeling well. You felt it so many times before with your father, too many to count. You must have put so much confidence and faith in Gerard without knowing it that now that you know he doesn’t really want you here, you feel as if there’s nothing much left. You hated when you did this. You didn’t even realize that you were starting to depend on him. You must have been building hope in any type of relationship again. Only to have it crushed now. You don’t know why you had to do that. Faith always let you down before.

You built up that wall, the barrier in your mind as you stepped over to the door, keeping your eyes closed all the while moving him out of your way. You reached out and wrapped your hand around the door knob, preparing yourself to be embraced by the wind again, when he grabbed your arm once again.

He dragged you around and pushed you down on the couch. The edge collided with the back of your knees as they buckled underneath you and sent you falling backwards into the cushions. Your eyes snapped open and you looked up at him, shocked and slightly fearful.

Was this it? you wondered.

He was standing there, still looking upset with you as he stared down at you. He looked like he was contemplating something. You could see it in his eyes. He was upset with you. You could immediately tell the way they were hardened over. You never really noticed before now, but his eyes always seemed so soft and kind to you. But now…

Look at what you’ve done. you tell yourself, feeling as if you were unable to look at him much longer. You turn your head away and close your eyes again.

“Sorry.” You apologize again, your voice cracking suddenly. You regret speaking, feeling shame all over again.

“Stop.” He says, his voice sounding as hard as his eyes.

“Tell me what happened.” He orders. You bite your lip, being completely unprepared for this.

Why does he want to know? Why does he suddenly have to care about you so much? Can’t he just leave it alone? You didn’t want to think about the state your face was probably in. You figured there was blood, and probably a quickly forming bruise. You didn’t want to end up trying to explain what you can barely remember happening.

“Ken, what happened to your face? Why is it red like that?” Gerard asks, again trying to force a reply out of you.

Wait, red? You reach up and touch your lip. It didn’t feel busted or swollen. You found no dried blood. You didn’t have any immediate pains anywhere. You lightly grazed your fingers over your eyes, but there was nothing wrong with them. It wasn’t until your fingers ghosted over your cheek that it happened.

A sharp flare of pain surged up the side of your face, making you wince and cringe. The skin felt raw and was extremely sensitive to your own touch. However, the immediate surge of pain the flitted its way around your face quickly brought back a clearer memory of how it must have gotten there.

“Ken?” his softer voice came, as you feel the couch sink underneath his weight as he sat next to you, his hand lightly resting on your shoulder.

“I tripped and fell.” You tell him.

“But why is it red like that?” He asks, wanting more detail.

“I tripped on the couch and ended up sliding my face against it. I guess its just rug-burn or something.” You say, opening your eyes and sniffing your suddenly runny nose.

It was all the truth though. Every word of it. You felt your panic slowly subside as you convinced yourself of it. After all, that’s what really happened. You must have panicked earlier when you imagined your father running at you down the hall. You remember now how that was only a hallucination that caused you to panic and lose your footing, ending with you getting the burn on the side of your face. You couldn’t remember it all earlier. So that’s why you jumped to conclusions.

Then again, maybe you did really see your father charging. Maybe he beat you up, but the most damage done to your face was that he had slapped you, leaving a large red mark on your face. You’re tempted to ask Gerard whether or not the mark looks like a hand or not, but that might bring on more unwanted questions. Besides, the couch/rug-burn is the most vivid memory you have, so that must be what it is.

“Ouch” came Gerard’s empathetic reply.