I'll Make You Feel Beautiful Once Again

It was Friday and we were all sitting in our circle having another fucking group therapy session at the overnight facility. Jaime was rambling on about his job at Cosco, and I, well, I was trying to not make it obvious that I was staring at Vic. He wasn't sitting next to me like he normally did; he was across the circle next to Jaime and I was next to Jesse who was shoving his finger in my ear over and over again. “Would you fucking stop?” I hissed at him under my breath. He smirked at me for a second before proceeding to flick my earlobe with his index finger. I sighed and turned my attention back to Jaime, occasionally sneaking a glance over at Vic.

The first thing I noticed about Vic was that he was more anxious about his sleeves. He would yank on them and pull them over his wrists repeatedly, and then he would cautiously slide his fingers into his flannel and scratch harshly at the skin on his arms. He wouldn’t stop tapping his foot or chewing on his bottom lip either. Overall, he just looked so scared and nervous.

Before I could look away, his bloodshot eyes flickered up to meet my stare. He looked at me accusingly, never blinking as he tugged on the rubber band around his wrist and let it snap back onto his skin. I flinched at the sound and winced when I saw the huge, red welts scatter across his skin quickly. I let out a shaky sigh and turned away, gazing at the fast approaching black clouds and the swaying trees that were close to the playground. Rain drops began to hit the big windows, and thunder rumbled the ground underneath us. Jaime continued to ramble on as I shifted uneasily in my plastic chair.

“Okay Vic,” Mr.Williams sighed after Jaime stopped talking. He shuffled the papers in his hands and let his pen hover over them even though it was no use; Vic wasn’t going to say anything. “Would you like to share anything?”

“No,” he mumbled, sounding very annoyed. I watched him gain sudden interest in his Chucks as everyone groaned at his stubbornness. Lightning struck outside the window, and thunder cracked right after it. The rain began to beat against the windows, forcing us to yell over the sound.

“Would you just say something?” Beau suggested harshly. “It’s not that hard.”

“Well, maybe he doesn’t want to say anything,” Oliver shot back at Beau defensively.

“He’s gunna end up failing the damn class if he doesn’t,” Beau retorted, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists. I watched as everyone stared at the three with wide eyes, waiting for the first punch.

“I don’t think any of us care about this class,” Oliver smirked, leaning forward in his chair. “He’s shagged, just leave him alone.”

“Well it seems like YOU care,” Beau added with a smug grin. “We all know that you keep on comin’ back to this class every single fucking year. And the funny thing is, you don’t even fail… you pass but you keep on comin’ back. Seems like you fucking care, Oli.”

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about me, Beau,” Oliver hissed, rising from his plastic chair.

“Oli, c’mon. Settle down,” Mr.Williams finally said, staring at Oliver with a blood-curdling stare. He nodded solemnly after flicking Beau off then sat back down in his chair with a huff. “Now, Vic,” the old man started again. “Are you sure you don’t wanna say something.”

“I’m sure,” Vic managed through gritted teeth.

“Dude, just say something,” Jenna chimed in. “Beau is right, you’re gunna fail if you don’t say something. Just let it all out. It’s not that ha-“

“What if I don’t wanna say something?!” Vic suddenly snapped. “You’re fucking wrong; all of you. It’s not easy to spill my fucking guts to you people. What if I’m scared that you will judge me? What if I don’t want to say anything because I’m afraid you’ll think of me as a crazy, fucked up, mental, suicidal freak?” Vic’s cheeks were red and his hands were tightened to fists at his sides. Tears spilled from his eyes as he heaved and choked, obviously trying to get air into his lungs.

“Vic, calm down,” Mr.Williams told him softly yet sternly. We all stared at Vic, watching as he let his head fall into his hands.

“No!” He sobbed, standing abruptly from his seat, making us all jump as he kicked it and the plastic chair went sliding across the floor and into a pile of desks with a bang. “I’m tired of all this bullshit therapy. It fucking sucks coming in here every single day.”

Mike rose from his seat calmly and walked over to Vic, wrapping his arms around his older yet shorter brother. Vic struggled and squirmed in his grasp, trying to shove him away. “Leave me alone, Mike,” he hissed, and sure enough, Mike let him go and let his arms fall to his sides. “Fuck you people,” he spit before walking swiftly towards the door, tears rushing from his bloodshot eyes. The door only locked from the outside, so Vic was able to yank on the handle quickly.

“Go to your room and calm yourself down, Vic,” Mr.Williams called after him nonchalantly.

“Fuck you, old man,” Vic cursed from the hallway. Mr.Williams sighed and began to write down some notes in, what I’m guessing, was Vic’s file. I tore my gaze away from the door to stare at the wheezing man, silently asking for answers as to why Vic suddenly flipped his shit.

“Next time Beau,” Mr.Williams scolded. “Leave the kid the fuck alone. Can’t you see that he didn’t wanna talk?” Beau rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning back into his chair. “Now, I think that’s enough therapy for today, let’s head back to your rooms.”

As we approached our door, I shifted my weight uncomfortably and twiddled my thumbs. Mr.Williams shoved his key into the lock and revealed an empty room. “Wait, where’s Vic?”

“One-on-one therapy, Kellin,” he explained with a sad sigh. “I need to figure out why he decided to go fucking apeshit, ya know?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I whispered, staring at my combat boots.

“He’ll be back, don’t worry kid… and hopefully, he’ll feel a little better,” he finished, then shuffled down the hallway.

I honestly don’t know what I did wrong. I sat at the edge of my bed and hung my head in my hands, thinking of the other night. I mean, hell, from the way he was moaning and digging his nails into my waist, I thought that Vic wanted me to keep going. But apparently not. A part of me was screaming that I shouldn’t be angry, and that I should respect his actions. I couldn’t though, which was the problem. I was pissed and sad and confused. I just didn’t know anymore...

I felt so fucking empty.

Even as I ran to the bathroom, hunched over the toilet bowl and shoved my fingers down my throat, I was having a hard time emptying the contents of my stomach. I heaved and choked but nothing came out. All I had was a half of a grapefruit for breakfast, and a rice cake for lunch, but I felt bloated and as if the food was growing and growing in my gut until I would finally explode and fucking die. Tears slipped down my pale cheeks as I leaned back and slouched to the floor. I sighed and ran my fingers through my disheveled hair. As sobs rumbled in my chest, I brought myself to my knees and hovered over the toilet bowl again. I stared at its white rim and bleached water. My eyes stung as I choked on my shaking fingers. My shoulders met my ears and my muscles tensed. A horrid sound erupted from my throat as the acid made its way up and into the toilet. Heaving and balling my eyes out, I tried to turn away from what I would flush, but I couldn't help but see the blood that swam around with the bile. "Fuck," I muttered. "Why am I like this? Why do I screw everything up?"