She Told Me Not to Worry (SEQUEL to He Told Me Not to Tell) COMPLETE

40

WARNING
May be triggering towards the end.

Kenzie's POV

He hasn't changed. I can see it in his eyes. My father is still no dad, and never will be. I didn't know what he wanted, but it wasn't to take care of me.

I didn't say a word the whole way home. Even if I wanted to talk, I didn't know what to say. Mom kept apologizing for what happened, but she shouldn't. It's not her fault. It's my father's. I just wish he'd leave us alone.

We got home and watched TV. I still didn't say anything.

"Kenzie, are you upset with me?" Mom asked.

I shook my head. "No, I just..." I trailed off.

"What?"

"I just wish he'd go away," I responded, tears welling up in my eyes. Mom pulled me in close, and I hugged her back.

"It'll be okay. He'll go away eventually."

But Mom didn't know him like I did. He's persistent, and he always gets his way. He won't stop until he gets what he wants.

"Can I go take a nap?" I asked.

"Of course," Mom responded. I got up and went to my room. I closed the door and fell on my bed. I curled in a ball and cried. I didn't want to sleep, I just wanted to cry. I wanted to cry without Mom seeing, without worrying her more. And that what I did, until I didn't have the energy to she'd anymore tears, and I eventually fell asleep.

I woke up to my mom opening my door. "Kenzie?" She asked.

"Hmm?"

"Dinner is ready."

"I'm not hungry," I said without even thinking about it. I was in no mood to eat.

"You can sleep after dinner if you'd like, but you need to eat."

I didn't know what to say, so I just got up and did what Mom wanted me to do.

I are the dinner she made, slower than usual. After I was done, I went straight back up to my room. I didn't know what to do. I had all of these emotions running through my head. I wish some of them would just stop.

Why can't I just be normal?
I thought to myself.

What did I do?

What did I even do to have such a cruel father? Why wouldn't he leave me alone? Why did he want? Why me? Why me? Why?

I couldn't get that out of my head. I came up with the conclusion that there just had to be something wrong with me. How do I fix that? How can I have a normal life? How can I forget about that man and what he did?

I picked up my phone to check the time, and saw I was tagged in a twitter post.

Don't read it. Don't read it. Don't read it.

I couldn't help myself. I opened up twitter to see what it was. That same account that posts all of the crap about me, which is probably true.

Why me?

Because there's something wrong with me.

How do I fix that?

I noticed myself scratching at my thigh. I went to my bathroom, shut and locked the door. I picked up a razor I use for shaving my legs, and broke it, picking up a piece of metal.

I shouldn't. Mom would be so crushed.

But she'll never know.

Something's wrong with me.

Just do it, she'll never know.

I'm worthless.

She'll never know.

Before I knew it, I had made my first five. I never thought about this before. I always saw it as insane, how could anyone do this to themselves?

But now I know.

It was a relief in some weird way.

Mom's going to be mad if she ever finds out.

And that's why I have to hide it.

Just thighs. She'll never see the thighs.

Ok, I was not planning this at all, it just kind of happened.

This book might be ending soon.