Verboten

Jack looked over at Alex. The boy was working hard; he was a determined student, which Jack liked about him. He was also a kind, warm-hearted person, and Jack admired how strong he was, dealing with all of the issues he had. Right now, he had a crease in between his eyebrows from staring at his work, and his lips had a slight downturn.

“Relax,” Jack said softly. Alex jerked his head up, obviously startled by his teacher. “You were frowning down at your work, Alex. It’s not that serious – ease up and stop worrying so much.”

“I’ll try,” Alex replied, looking unconvinced and resuming his work. Jack watched his student for a few more minutes, admiring the way the sun caught his hair as it streamed through the window. It was warm in the room, despite having all of the windows open, but Alex resolutely had his jumper on, even after removing his blazer.

Yesterday, despite the temperature being lower, Alex hadn’t bothered particularly to cover up the bruise on his wrist. The only assumption Jack could draw from him wearing his jumper today was that there were more. Jack removed his glasses and set them down on his desk, bored with marking essays. He needed to ask Alex about the bruise, now possibly bruises.

It seemed like he had chosen the right time: Alex set down his pen, looking satisfied. “Finished,” he announced, looking proud of himself, and Jack couldn’t blame him; it was a difficult activity he had set him.

“Great.” Jack dragged his chair from his desk so he could sit next to Alex. He hesitated. “Can we have a chat quickly, Alex?”

Alex nodded, although he suddenly tensed and swallowed nervously. “Of course.”

“Don’t feel anxious about it,” Jack said softly. “It’s nothing you’ve done.” He hated seeing the boy worked up, but he feared he was going to make Alex stressed with this conversation. There was no way around it, though.

“Is it about the conversation we had yesterday?” Alex asked, curling his legs up onto the chair and hugged his knees with his arms.

“Partially,” Jack answered truthfully. He had been intending to ask Alex how he was now feeling after yesterday, but that was only the start of the conversation. “Are you still feeling suicidal?”

Alex smiled faintly, although both of his legs were now jumping up and down nervously. “Thanks for saying it straight and not avoiding the word like most people do.”

“Beating around the bush doesn’t help, and don’t avoid the question.”

Alex sighed. “I’m still feeling suicidal, although the urges aren’t as strong now.”

“So, is that better? Do you feel better?” Jack regarded the boy in front of him, wondering whether rubbing his back would be crossing the student-teacher boundary. When Alex blinked rapidly, as if he was going to cry, Jack decided that it didn’t matter whichever way.

Alex jumped when he felt Jack’s hand on his back, stroking up and down comfortingly. He sucked in a deep breath and answered, “It’s better but I don’t feel any better. I know it sounds weird but…” He shrugged, not knowing how to finish his sentence.

“It’s just how it is,” Jack finished. “I get it. I meant to say, Alex – when we’re in these after-school sessions, just call me Jack.”

“Oh. Okay…Jack.”

“Good.” Jack bit his lip. “I need to ask you something that you might not really want to answer.” Alex stiffened instantly, his back becoming tense. “It’s not about eating,” Jack added, wondering if that was what Alex was concerned about. It wasn’t – his muscles didn’t loosen.

“Can I see your arms, Alex?” Jack asked cautiously, ready to react if Alex tried to flee. He didn’t, but he didn’t do anything else; he sat as if he was frozen, not making any movements. Jack reached over hesitantly and pulled Alex’s sleeves up, still not receiving any reaction from the younger boy. “Oh my God,” he muttered when he saw his wrists.

He was right: the reason he was hiding his arms was because the number of bruises had increased. Jack couldn’t quite wrap his head around just how many there were; the majority of his arms were black or purple or blue, bruises overlapping each over.

He finally got a reaction from Alex when he brushed against one of the bruises; the boy hissed and withdrew his arms, clutching them close to his chest. “Hurts,” he said by way of explanation.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, doing his best to keep his voice level and calm. Experience of teaching had told him that becoming agitated around a distressed student was like becoming agitated around animals: they picked up on it and it added to their stress. “Can you show me your arms, please, Alex? I promise I won’t touch them if you don’t want me to.”

Alex extended his arms gingerly, “Can you not touch them please, Jack?” The name slipped out easily, without him even thinking about it.

“Of course, anything you want,” Jack reassured, taking Alex’s hand instead. He bit his lip when he saw the damage: it was like a tattoo sleeve of bruises. “Does it go any further?”

Alex nodded, but didn’t make any move to roll his sleeves up any more. Jack took it as a signal that he didn’t want him to see, and didn’t ask him to show him. “Who did this to you, Alex?” There were a thousand and one ideas running through his head, mainly concerning whether Alex was being bullied here, whether his old school’s bullies had somehow come into contact with him, whether he had gotten in street fight, whether this was some form of self-harm…

Alex merely shook his head at the question. “Alex, I need to know,” Jack pressed. “I know this isn’t easy to talk about, but please, I need to know.” Jack was becoming dizzy from all of the thoughts racing around in his head, and he knew that if Alex didn’t tell him what had happened, he wouldn’t tell anyone.

“I can’t,” Alex choked out, and Jack realised that his breathing had become laboured and shallow, quick pants in and out. Jack forced Alex’s head up to look at him, stroking his jawline with his thumb soothingly.

“Breathe in,” Jack ordered. “That isn’t a choice, Alex, you have to breathe in.” Although he had only known the boy for a short time, he had figured out that what Alex needed during a panic attack was clear, concise orders. “Feel my thumb along your jaw. Feel that and nothing else: just my thumb along your jaw.”

Alex reached out and grasped his teacher’s free hand, bending over in his chair. “Jack…” he gasped.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Jack soothed. He was pretty terrified by the situation to be honest, and he wasn’t sure if he was capable of calming Alex down right now. “I’m here, don’t worry, I’m so proud of you, keep trying to breathe deeply…” Jack kept up his meaningless chatter until Alex’s breathing was less laboured and he wasn’t gasping for air anymore.

“Feel light-headed,” Alex muttered, swaying where he sat slightly. Jack helped him down to the floor, sitting behind him so Alex could rest against his chest. Alex’s breathing was, after a few more minutes, back to normal and he nuzzled into Jack’s chest. Jack smiled at the contact and stroked Alex’s hair.

“Dad,” Alex said suddenly. “It was Dad.”

It took Jack a moment to realize what Alex was talking about. He glanced back down at the bruises that decorated his wrists and closed his eyes to comprehend the situation. “Your dad did that to you,” he whispered, not wanting to believe it. “What about your mum?”

“She watched,” Alex replied nonchalantly, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m used to it Jack, it doesn’t bother me anymore.” The tears starting to run down his face contradicted that statement.