What to do now. *book two*

A lot of Problems

*warning! Depictions of violence, suicidal thoughts and abuse! Be cautious before continuing!*

I eventually found someone. He too, was taking a break of sorts from a relationship. His partner was in England.

I'm in the kitchen chopping chives for omelettes and he wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles his face against my back.

I end up jumping slightly because I wasn't expecting that and slice the palm of my hand open.

He's squeamish about blood and so I clench my hand and wipe the bloody knife on my jeans.

"Hi..." he murmurs

I reply to him in morse code, *hey sleepy head*

"I'm tired..."

*well how about you go back to bed and I'll bring you some breakfast in bed, yeah?*

"Okay"

He kisses my neck and leaves the kitchen.

I put the knife down, run my hand under cold water and then carefully dry it and apply spray plaster to it.

At least it didn't cut that deep, but it still stings.

I wave my hand to make the plaster dry quicker and then I continue with the omelettes.

When I'm done, I bring them to him.

"Thank you love."

I smile and continue with my day...

I get home from a terrible day at work. My boss let me go home because I was extremely upset.

A customer came in and tried to ask me where something was, and I tried to answer her in sign and she got angry and thought I was just waving my hands about.

So my boss came over and asked what was wrong and she said that I wasn't being helpful and I was just being stupid and it's all I could do.

He calmly asked her what she wanted and she said "no, I want this idiot to answer. I asked him, so he can help me."

And he explained that I couldn't speak and she started having a go at me and insulting me and calling me a useless waste of space and other cruel names and generally making me feel really shit about myself.

So now I'm at home. Crying in the bathroom. With old scars open.

I hear a knock on the bathroom door, "Damien?"

Shit.

Nate walks in and I try to hide my arms.

He folds his arms, "what are you doing?"

I shake my head to say nothing.

He crouched down in front of me and places his hand on my wrist.

He lifts my arm.

"Look, Damien, whatever sort of... 'depression' you are going through, it's just in your head, okay? You'll get over it."

I don't... did... did he just... wait... but...he just dismissed the fact that I was upset... he's... he's joking... right?

"Clean yourself up, and cheer yourself up, okay? Be happy!"

He smiles, pinches my cheek and leaves the bathroom.

I don't understand. He has to be joking...