Status: Active
Our False Reality
Chapter 4
“Go away Ryan!” she frowns.
“I don’t feel like it.”
“I feel like punching you.”
“Like you can punch anyone. You’re way too tiny. It’s no wonder everyone thought you were in the hospital for an eating disorder. That’s why no one finds you attractive. Your just scars and skin and bones.”
“You’re just an asshole.”
He laughs smugly. “Nice comebacks.”
“Fuck you.”
“You wish you could.”
“Shut up!” she starts throwing things around the room in anger and he laughs more. “You can’t even control yourself. You need to go back to the hospital. They need to lock you up because you’re crazy. Do you really think Brendon finds this train wreck of a person beautiful? He feels sorry for you.”
“Stop!” she screams.
“You’re never going to be anything in life. You’re pathetic. You’ll die alone bleeding on the floor at the rate you’re going honey. I’m just trying to be honest here.”
And he really was being honest. He told the truth and she couldn’t stand it. She hated the truth more than anything. She wants to live securely wrapped up in her false realities with Brendon. None of this is real yet she can’t fight it. She can’t make Ryan stop.
She falls to her knees on the floor and sobs. He leaves her there, gasping for breath as her tiny frame is wracked with crying and tears soaking the oversized tee shirt she wore. She scrambles for the razor with blurry eyes and finds it in her waiting palm. She drags it across every clean inch of skin she can find on her bare thighs, not stopping between cuts. The metal slips and she is cutting deeper than ever before. She can see inside herself and it makes her want to throw up. Instead she places a tissue on it and ties a belt tight to hold the tissue and cut off the flow of red.
Her eyes close and she lies on the floor, hopeless and helpless, crying herself to sleep. When Brendon arrives he is waking her up, lifting her off the floor and onto her mattress shoved against the wall in the corner. He sits her down gently and she blinks up at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“It’s okay,” he tells her, already setting to work bandaging her exposed thighs. All she has on is that tee shirt and panties. It would be sexy under different circumstances.
“I’m fucked up!”
“Ryan doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t see the side of you I do. He doesn’t see in your heart the way I do. You are beautiful, smart, talented, kind, amazing, strong, and thoughtful. You’re incredible and I care so much about you. Please don’t forget that.”
“Ok…” she just takes his word for it because she is tired and she wants to believe everything he tells her. “Sleep with me,” she yawns. He lies with her and holds her tight, singing lullabies in her ear.
---
She was thrashing around on her bed, kicking and punching the mattress, screaming into the pillow with tears drenching her face. “Stop,” he walked in and sat beside her.
“I can’t. No one’s listening to me!” she protested.
“I am.”
“But sometimes even you can’t save me,” she looked at him sadly.
“I’ll never stop trying.”
“I just want someone to help me.”
“I know,” he pulls her into his arms where she fits perfectly. He rocks with her and sings sweet songs in hear ear. She stares at the wall.
“No one cares.”
“I do.”
“I look like a zebra with all these stripes across my skin. How could anyone love me?”
“I love you.”
“But you aren’t real!” she cries and just like that he is gone. She is left alone once again.
“I don’t feel like it.”
“I feel like punching you.”
“Like you can punch anyone. You’re way too tiny. It’s no wonder everyone thought you were in the hospital for an eating disorder. That’s why no one finds you attractive. Your just scars and skin and bones.”
“You’re just an asshole.”
He laughs smugly. “Nice comebacks.”
“Fuck you.”
“You wish you could.”
“Shut up!” she starts throwing things around the room in anger and he laughs more. “You can’t even control yourself. You need to go back to the hospital. They need to lock you up because you’re crazy. Do you really think Brendon finds this train wreck of a person beautiful? He feels sorry for you.”
“Stop!” she screams.
“You’re never going to be anything in life. You’re pathetic. You’ll die alone bleeding on the floor at the rate you’re going honey. I’m just trying to be honest here.”
And he really was being honest. He told the truth and she couldn’t stand it. She hated the truth more than anything. She wants to live securely wrapped up in her false realities with Brendon. None of this is real yet she can’t fight it. She can’t make Ryan stop.
She falls to her knees on the floor and sobs. He leaves her there, gasping for breath as her tiny frame is wracked with crying and tears soaking the oversized tee shirt she wore. She scrambles for the razor with blurry eyes and finds it in her waiting palm. She drags it across every clean inch of skin she can find on her bare thighs, not stopping between cuts. The metal slips and she is cutting deeper than ever before. She can see inside herself and it makes her want to throw up. Instead she places a tissue on it and ties a belt tight to hold the tissue and cut off the flow of red.
Her eyes close and she lies on the floor, hopeless and helpless, crying herself to sleep. When Brendon arrives he is waking her up, lifting her off the floor and onto her mattress shoved against the wall in the corner. He sits her down gently and she blinks up at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“It’s okay,” he tells her, already setting to work bandaging her exposed thighs. All she has on is that tee shirt and panties. It would be sexy under different circumstances.
“I’m fucked up!”
“Ryan doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t see the side of you I do. He doesn’t see in your heart the way I do. You are beautiful, smart, talented, kind, amazing, strong, and thoughtful. You’re incredible and I care so much about you. Please don’t forget that.”
“Ok…” she just takes his word for it because she is tired and she wants to believe everything he tells her. “Sleep with me,” she yawns. He lies with her and holds her tight, singing lullabies in her ear.
---
She was thrashing around on her bed, kicking and punching the mattress, screaming into the pillow with tears drenching her face. “Stop,” he walked in and sat beside her.
“I can’t. No one’s listening to me!” she protested.
“I am.”
“But sometimes even you can’t save me,” she looked at him sadly.
“I’ll never stop trying.”
“I just want someone to help me.”
“I know,” he pulls her into his arms where she fits perfectly. He rocks with her and sings sweet songs in hear ear. She stares at the wall.
“No one cares.”
“I do.”
“I look like a zebra with all these stripes across my skin. How could anyone love me?”
“I love you.”
“But you aren’t real!” she cries and just like that he is gone. She is left alone once again.