Untouched

Christofer

I could see the bright lights through my closed lids, and I really dread opening my eyes and facing everyone that will be here.

Like my mother, she’ll get upset at me, or the twins that’ll scream at me for being so stupid, or Greg that’ll think littler of me. He’ll probably think I’m weak and pathetic; he probably won’t want me as his step-son.

I slowly let my eyelids open but quickly close them when the sunlight burns my eyes. I open them again and squint a bit. Once my eyes have adjusted I glance around the room, to my left is Tom and to my right Oli.

“W-what a-are y-you doing here?” I asked staring directly at Oli.

“I was fucking worried about you; I thought you died on me.” He almost screamed.

“N-not like y-you c-care.” I mumbled under my breath.

“Christofer I love you more than you’ll ever know.” He said more calmly. “I love you so much it hurts me to see you in this condition, I thought you quit doing this to yourself.” He said reaching for my hand.

I tear my gaze away from and look away, “I-thought y-you d-didn’t love my a-anymore.” I whispered gripping his hand more tightly.

“Why would you even think that?” he asked as his fingers brushed the hair from my face.

“Curtis t-told me-“

“Don’t ever listen to Curtis. Ever.” He demanded looking down at me. “I love you, that’s all that matters.” He said lightly kissing my lips.

“Christofer baby.”

We both look toward the door where my mother was standing. She looked so old standing there with her hair in a messy bun and her make-up smearing. I felt guilty for putting her through all this.

“Christofer the doctor suggested you go under a 72 hour suicide watch program.” She said softly. “Then you could come home.”

I could feel Oli’s hand tighten around mine, I look over to him and he looks angry, very angry. “W-why?” I ask.

“Christofer, you tried to kill yourself they feel you need to be watched over for just a few days. You’ll be in the psych ward with other kids and you’ll be given medication.” She says softly coming into the room. “Christofer, you only need to be there for a few days, 30 days tops.”

I glance over to Oli like he’s holding the ultimate decision. “Go.” he says softly. “They can’t legally keep you there after 30 days.” He says.

“O-ok.” I agree.

My mother smiles and comes over to give me a soft kiss. “The more you open up the faster you’ll be out of there.” She tells me.

I know why my mother is begging me to go to the hospital, she would of never admitted me into a psych ward herself. This is her way of being a good parent.

“Christofer we’ll visit every day.” Tom speaks up for the first time. I look over to him and give him a small smile.

“You b-better.” I mumble.



The smell of the Adolescent Psychiatric Ward was disturbing; it was like soap and hospital food. I stood by the nurse station and filled out some paper work. They took my shoes, cell phone and other electronics things and possible things I may use to hurt myself and then they sent me into a private room.

A lady came in and asked about my home life, she asked about school, friends and family. And I gave her honest answers. She finally released me after an hour and I was taken to a small doctor office where they did regular hospital like things.

Finally I was given a room; I unpacked the very little clothes my mother brought me while I was still hospitalized. I was working very slowly, and peeked over the window to see a small open quad with older patients sitting around and lounging some where smoking, others standing alone.

“They’re the older people. 18 and older.” Someone said.

I turned around and stared at the football jock that stood there. He was tall and his hair was a faded blonde color, his bright blue eyes shined as he stared at me. “Sorry.” He apologized. “I’m Zach.” He added extending a hand.

I extended my hand as well but stopped when I saw the small red lines lining his wrist along with other faded white scars. He quickly pulled his hand away and looked down ashamed in himself. “I’m not supposed to be a cutter.” He told me. “I’m supposed to be a stupid jock that uses women and then throws them off.” he said.

“I n-never s-said a-anything.” I whispered. I wasn’t going to judge him for cutting, hell I did it myself. “I-I cut m-myself t-too.” I admitted softly.

He nodded and remained silent. “So uh.” He spoke up. “We should go to therapy.” He added standing up and leading me toward the dayroom, where I would be spending most of my time.

Group therapy was rather boring, everyone explained what problems they were and they therapist suggested ways they could fix it. Finally it came to me and they told me to tell everything.

“I’m Christofer,” I started softly. I glanced over to Zach and he gave me a reassuring smile. “U-um I c-cut to d-deep s-so I g-got sent here.” I whispered.

“Why did you cut yourself?” one of the therapists asked.

“B-because Curtis said h-he d-didn’t l-love me and and t-that he’s j-just u-using me.”

“Who?”

“Oli, m-my b-boyfriend.” I said. I glanced around the room, some of the guys scowled at me while others just seemed bored.

“How long have you been cutting yourself?”

“s-since I w-was 13.”

“Why?

I didn’t like how they keep asking why to every question; it was beginning to frustrate me. I chewed on my bottom lip and glanced around at everyone. Again, some seemed annoyed with me while others just didn’t care. Suddenly I felt a hand clasp down on my shoulder; I jumped away and covered my head.

“Whoa Christofer.”

I peeked over my eyes and stared at Zach, he watched apologetically. I coughed a bit and lowered my hands and shifting in my seat, “S-sorry.” I whispered.

“Christofer what just happened?” a therapist asked.

“N-nothing, it w-was nothing.” I stuttered out hoping they’d drop the subject, but I doubt it. They’re here to pester into my life and everything that has come my way.

“Christofer,” Zach speaks up from beside me. “They’re here to help.” He adds.

“I k-know.” I mumble.