Blood For Blood - A Kellic Fanfiction

Three. Disasterology

Oh, what a waste of a perfectly good, clean wrist.

VIC'S POV

SOMEWHERE IN SAN DIEGO...

"So you won't be needing appointments anymore?"

Nate Green, a young dude with spiky brown hair, is sitting in the armchair opposite mine. I'm taking little sips from the mug of coffee in my hand. I offered Nate one, but he didn't want anything. He said he wasn't going to be here for long, anyway. He looks much happier than when I first started seeing him.

"No," he replies with his thick New York accent. "I think I'm okay now."

"That's good," I smile. "Just so I'm sure you're better, can I see your wrists?"

"Why?" he asks. "What's the point?"

"I want to compare it to your wrists last week, just so I can see the improvement."

Nate takes off his hoodie and presents his wrists to me. I pick up the photo of his wrists from last week and compare the two.

Nate's story was tragic. Earlier this year, he realised he was gay. He dated a guy who lived on his street, the same age as him. He came out on Facebook and told the world that he was gay. But his year group at school is full of homophobic assholes, who bullied him because of his sexuality. He got beat up all the time, and he got so depressed that he started cutting. It got so bad that he came to see me. Our first appointment was twelve weeks ago, and he's had one appointment with me each week since then. Over the weeks, I've been helping him overcome his depression, stop cutting, and cope at school. Judging by his mood today, I think it's worked.

His wrists don't have any new cuts. I smile proudly, but I'm not proud of myself - I'm proud of him. He did it. I knew he could do it.

"No new cuts," I say, my smile getting bigger. "Well done, Nate. You've done really well. I'm proud of you."

"I'm not gonna cut again," he replies, smiling. "You were right when you said it just makes you feel worse. Cutting didn't ease the pain or whatever - it reminded me of how hard my life was, and these appointments made me realise that cutting is wrong. What's the point in doing something if it reminds you of the crappy stuff in your life?"

"Exactly." I fist pump him, put my mug of coffee on the coffee table that separates our two armchairs, and stand up. "Well, I guess you won't be seeing me any time soon."

Nate stands up too, and to my surprise, he gives me a huge warm hug.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Fuentes," he says so quietly it's almost a whisper. "You've done so much for me...I'm gonna miss you. You're like a dad to me."

"Hey," I grin, ruffling his hair. "I've been telling you since our first appointment to call me Vic."

"Yeah, sorry," he half laughs. "But I mean it. I'm so grateful to you."

I wrap my arms around him. "Well, if you ever need me, you know where to go. But I doubt you'll need me again."

"You never know...I might have to come here again."

We stop hugging.

"Let's hope you don't, huh?"

"Yeah."

We exchange a big smile.

"Well, I should go," he says, putting his hoodie back on.

"Okay," I reply. "Bye, Nate. And well done."

"See ya, Vic," he grins. "And thanks. For everything."

When he's about to walk our the door, I remember something I want to say.

"Oh, and Nate?" I call him back.

He turns around.

"If you ever feel like you need to cut again, remember my two pieces of advice."

Nate nods. "Remember the people who love you and care about you. Would they really want you to do this to yourself?"

"And the other one?"

"Don't get a blade, get a pen. Use the pen to draw lines where you'd cut - don't actually make cuts. The next day, draw one less line. Draw one less line each day, until you draw no cuts at all."

"And if those asses in your school ever beat you up, come see me," I add.

Nate smiles. "Will do."

And he leaves.

I sit back down on my armchair and roll up my shirt sleeves to look at my own wrists. Suddenly, I can feel a lump in my throat. I'm gonna miss Nate. I'm always emotionally involved with my clients - as a therapist, it's my job - but I've never been this emotionally involved. I guess it's because he reminds me of me, when I was a teenager. I was like him - I got beat up all the time, and I cut because of that. I can still see my scars now - just. They're incredibly faint, but I know they're there, and I know they're always gonna be there. But I overcame my cutting, and so did Nate, and we've connected. He's not just my client - he's my friend. And I think we'll always be friends, even if we don't see each other ever again. He said that I'm like a dad to him; I hope he fully understands that he's got my protection whenever he needs it.

I swallow the lump in my throat and reach for my necklace. I run my fingers over the smooth wood symbol on the end of it. The symbol is an animal paw with long sharp claws. It's got that symbol so I'll "never forget what I have"...or, that's what Mom said. When she was alive. She made it herself - she was always so talented with that kind of thing. I miss her everyday, as anyone would if their mom was dead, but I'm glad I've got something to remember her by.

And I always keep my necklace close to my heart...so I'll never forget what I have.