my roommate [cth]

chapter sixteen // scars and cigarettes.

(a/n: ok i have no idea if this chapter is considered triggering or not, this chapter basically talks about scars and mental illnesses so if that makes you feel some way you don't want to feel, please skip over this chapter.)

it was saturday afternoon and calum and i were still on winter break, which was great since i was not in a hurry to go back to that hell that people call school.

i sat myself down to watch 'princess protection program' and yelled at the tv because of how frustrated i was getting with the movie.

calum had come back upstairs with a box of pizza hut's pizza, which was my favorite.

after a while, we had started to eat and watch the movie.

"ella, pull your sleeves up, you're getting them dirty with the pizza oil." he said, pointing at my oversized sweatshirts sleeves.

"it's fine, i don't mind." i was scared, and i hoped he wouldn't ask me to pull my sleeves up again.

he looked at my sleeves and said, "you probably just don't want to do the work, here i'll do it for you."

i only realized what he said while he was actually pulling my sleeves up.

"calum! what the hell are you you doing? i said i don't mind!" i yelled, putting down my pizza to be able to put my sleeves back down.

"ella.. im so sorry i uh i didn't mean to, i had no idea." he said, looking like he was about to cry.

"it's fine whatever i don't care about it just leave me alone." and so i walked into my room and started to cry.

the last person i would ever want to know about me self harming was calum. i didn't want him to think of me as weak.

i heard soft knocks on the door.

"ella, please let me in, i just want to talk."

and so i got up from the bed, opened the door and said, "talk about what? how im weak? how im the bad person for not telling anyone about this? how i fucking cut myself? no, i don't want to talk." and i slam the door shut and sit myself onto my bed again, starting to think things over.

-

when i finally walk out of my room, two hours later, i felt ready to talk to somebody, specifically calum.

i knock on calums door.

"it's open."

"calum im sorry, i didn't mean to sound rude i swear, i just didn't want you to know, but im ready to tell somebody.." i said, looking down at my fingernails.

"no ella, it's fine, i understand i do, i had a friend who did the same thing so please don't think that this is all new to me, it's not."

so i sat down next to him on the right edge of the bed and thought about how i'd put it, how i'd say it. and just thinking about it caused me to cry before i could let a just single word slip out of my mouth.

"i-im sorry, just give me a minute." i said, trying my hardest to stop crying.

you know that feeling you get when you cry real hard and then in the middle of you crying, you kinda just gasp for air? yeah well that's what was happening, and it was so hard to make stop.

"it's fine ella, you have all the time you need, im here, it's okay." he said, hugging me and rubbing my back.

once i finally caught my breath and could somewhat talk clearly, i said, "okay, here it goes, this whole story is pretty stupid, there's no huge 'wow' to it, yanno? it all started in april of seventh grade. i started to constantly get upset and get all of these crazy mood swings and such. it went on like that for a about a month and so twelve year old me thought 'hey, let's go take some quizzes for this' and so they all said i had depression. trust me i know this sounds dumb but i was twelve, remember. and so i denied the fact that i might actually be depressed. for example, say that there were fifty symptoms, i had fourty eight of them. there weren't fifty but oh well it's an example. anyways, i let it go on like that for a few more months. in september of eighth grade, i decided to tell my mom and so she took me to the doctors and turns out, i was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. i now thought of myself as the 'sick mental child', 'the sad child who couldn't call the pizza place herself', and it sucked. to cope with my feelings, i decided to cut myself, and it felt good when i did it, i got addicted and i couldn't stop. i tried to, i even flushed my blades down the toilet one night, but i always found a way to find another one. i couldn't stop, i can't stop. now i know this wasn't some huge story as to why i do this, but that's why." i then start to cry, again.

he hugs me and while his arms are still wrapped around me he says, "im so sorry ella, im so sorry." and when he lets go he says, "i know i can't just tell you to stop, but seeing you this way hurts me, a lot."

i think for a while and say, "look, i'll flush down the blades, all of them, as long as you try to stop smoking." it was one of calums bad habits, i hated the smell and it's dangerous but at least he didn't smoke for years, he started a month before he moved in.

"okay, i promise i will, you'll throw out my pack of cigarettes and i'll throw out your blades, deal?"

"deal."