Haunting You - Boys of Tommen

Numb

TW: Depictions of Self Harm In This Chapter

"Every corner of this house is haunted" - Gracie Abrams 

May 19th, 2000 (Five Years Ago)

Lizzie:

It had been over a month since my sister had taken her own life, and in the process took mine too. Except unfortunately I was still breathing. 

Hugh was the only light in my life these days and it was getting harder and harder to accept his help. He was attending Tommen and I missed being in the same school as him, it was difficult to just get through the day. I had taken two weeks of school off, but my parents thought it would be good for me if I had some sense of normalcy/

Although, I would hardly consider being the subject of constant gossip and stares normal. I felt like I was in a fishbowl, and the teachers were the worst, it was like they were expecting me to break down crying every five minutes, and were almost disappointed when I didn't. I wondered if it would make them worry about me less if they knew about the frequent breakdowns in the bathroom stalls and in my bedroom. 

Claire did the best she could, but she wasn't equipped to deal with me when I was like this. She thought she could help me the same way, she had helped Gibsie when half of his family passed away. But I didn't want anything remotely to do with that family anymore, and Claire's loyalties would always lie with her precious Gerard. If it weren't for Hugh, I don't think I could stomach being in her presence. She would bring me extra snacks and try to distract me by making jokes like I had seen her do for Gibsie a thousand times.

My best friend, Shannon Lynch definitely understood what I needed. She was quiet and secretive but extremely perceptive. She allowed me to be silent and gave me the space I needed.

Hugh was a combination of them both, and I hated and loved him for it. I knew I was lucky to have him for a boyfriend, we were young and immature, but it didn't stop me from loving him, and him from loving me. 

I knew I was a burden to him now, I was difficult and mean but he was always there, unwavering. He had shown up for me and even my parents in ways no twelve year old should ever be expected to, but Hugh was like that. Protective and caring, and way beyond his years in every way. 

"Here, eat," Hugh says to me, as he puts a bowl of soup down in front of me. He rarely came to my house empty handed these days, usually bringing food his Mam had sent over, and her cooking was a lot better than the onslaught of casseroles that had been showing up at our door. 

"I'm not hungry," I say, picking at the piece of bread he had handed me. Along with the numbness that had taken over my mind, feelings like hunger and thirst were dulled too. 

"You have to eat, Liz" Hugh says, and somehow he never loses his patience with me, we've had this exact conversation everyday this week, and he somehow always finds it within himself to be patient. 

I picked up my spoon and sunk it into the opaque liquid and observed as the steam clouded the metal of the utensil, before finally bringing to my lips and swallowing the sustenance that I desperately needed. 

"How are you feeling?" Hugh asks tentatively. 

"The same." I answer, feeling the monotone of my voice in my very soul. 

"Um, you mean you feel numb?" He asks to clarify. I hated this portion of him checking in on me. 

I had come to categorize how these visits with Hugh went. The first step was to make sure I was fed, and hydrated, and making sure there was food in the fridge. The next part was what I had come to think of as my psych evaluation, he would ask how I was doing and feeling and identify the emotions, honestly he would probably make a good therapist is he wanted. After the impromptu therapy session, he would literally start doing household chores. Considering neither of my parents got out of bed much these days, was very much needed. Lastly, was what I had come to classify as 'quality time', we would watch movies or he would try to coax me into playing a game, sometimes he would just hold me.

"Yeah, I feel numb." As much as I'm grateful for Hugh doing this, I feel like he's a psychiatrist and I'm his bloody patient, I guess I'm not doing anything to help with that dynamic but I hated it nonetheless. 

"All of the time?" He questioned, as I finished the last of my soup, I guess I really was hungry. 

"Um, yeah." I say sheepishly, because it's a lie. I felt numb all of the time, except for this morning, I was rushing to get ready and haphazardly putting my earrings in, but on the second ear, I went in too fast and missed the hole entirely and it hurt like hell. But for a minute it all just stopped, I felt like I could see clearly for a minute and like I could think. 

It felt so real, for the first time in over a month I  felt like I was actually alive and not just a walking corpse. 

I don't know what it meant, but for the rest of the school day, I periodically pressed on the small abrasion on my ear and felt the intoxicating sting once again. I did it whenever I needed to focus or to calm my mind, by lunch the wound had opened up again, and had dripped blood down my neck. 

"You can tell me anything, Lizzie" Hugh says and I know he means it, but he won't understand this, I don't even know what it is, but he'll freak out and I need him too much right now, and he certainly doesn't need anything else to worry about. 

"I know, thanks." I reply, taking one last bite of my bread, and then I join him in doing the dishes and straightening up the house. 

"How does cards sound?" Hugh asks, easily locating the deck of cards.

I shake my head, "can we just sit?" 

"Yeah of course," he answers and we settle into the couch and my head easily finds his chest, and he just holds me, while mindlessly stroking the ends of my hair.

We don't even bother turning the TV on, we just sit there for hours until he carries me up to my room, and puts me in my bed.

"Goodnight Liz, it will get better, I promise" he says, leaning to kiss my forehead, and I want to believe his pretty words, but I'm drowning and it doesn't feel like I'm getting any closer to the surface, in fact it feels as if every passing day, I'm getting pulled down further and further.

"Goodnight, Hugh."

"I'll see you tomorrow, I love you."

"I love you, too." And with that he closes my bedroom door and my fingers immediately find the open wound, and I revel in the feelings it brings.

I'll stop doing it tomorrow, but for tonight, I need this.

Thanks for reading! - H <3