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

55

Kenzie's POV

I can't believe I broke down like that. I've done that way too often, and I'm sick of it. I'm sure Mom is, too.

She told me she was proud of me. How could she be? I just went to her and practically begged her to give me back my blades. And she's proud of me?

The only reason why I didn't cut was I didn't have a choice. I had already gone to Mom, and she wasn't going to give me anything. I knew she wouldn't have let me be alone that night, even if I didn't ask to stay with her.

I just don't see how someone as perfect as her could be proud of me.

There's nothing to be proud of.

I wanted to tell her that, but I was so tired, and I know what she would have said. She would have told me that there was plenty to be proud of. I knew I wouldn't believe anything would say, so there's no point in her saying it.

The next morning, I woke up with a massive head ache, and the light coming in from the window wasn't helping at all. I groaned as I rubbed my eyes. Mom started to stir, and she eventually opened her eye.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," I said in a hushed, morning voice.

"You didn't, honey, I was going to get up anyway." She pulled me in for yet another hug, but I didn't complain. I love her hugs. She kissed the top of my head like she always does. "I'm still so proud if you."

Here we go again.

"Mom, I'm really sorry for last night," I said quickly. "I don't know what was happening. I just-"

"It's okay," she said soothingly. "I understand."

Do you though? Do you really understand?

I wanted to ask her this, but decided against it. There had already been enough drama from the night before.

We sat there a little longer, cuddled in each other's arms. I stayed there as long as possible. These cuddles were the kind that always made me feel better. The kind that always fought the bad guys away when I had bad dreams. When I was little, whenever I got scared, it was these cuddles that always comforted me.

And they still do. Except lately I've been pushing Mom away so much that I've forgotten how good it felt to be wrapped in her arms, how safe I felt with her.

"I love you, Mom," I said out of no where.

She responded with a simple, "I love you, too, more than you could ever imagine." We exchanged smiles, mine weaker than hers. "How about some breakfast?"

I sighed. "I'm not really hungry."

"It's not good for your body to skip meals," she said cautiously.

I wanted to continue arguing, but I knew I wouldn't get anywhere. Mom is stubborn like that.

I have been looking in the mirror more lately. I've been getting bigger. I don't like it. If I go out, and a new picture of me is taken, that twitter account is going to find it and make a big deal about it.

I haven't told Mom about that account. She'd make me block it or delete not account. As much as I wanted it to stop, I couldn't ignore it. I needed to see what was being said about me. It always hurt, but I couldn't stand not knowing what was going on.

I could just find a way to skip meals. If I became thin enough, that twitter account wouldn't have anything to say.

Sorry for the long wait for this update. I've had some issues I've had to work through recently.

Thanks for reading.