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54

Edited.

Lucy's Pov

I look into Gregg's eyes; they're filled with curiosity and worry. "Before I begin," I sheepishly say, tears still flowing down my cheeks. "I warn you, what I am about to say is not pleasant. If at any moment you feel like you cannot stand to hear any more, tell me." Gregg nods in understanding, waiting for me to continue. I shut my eyes for a few seconds and take a long, deep breath. "There is no proper way to begin so I suppose I will have to start with where the cutting began. " I gulp, "It began with my father." This catches Gregg's attention but he doesn't say anything. "A few years ago, my father had barged into my bedroom." Gregg frowns, I plead him with my eyes to be patient. "He entered my room completely drunk."

"Did he molest you?" Gregg impatiently asks.

I breathe, "No, he beat me. I don't know why, I never found out why he beat me. He threatened me to remain silent, when he finished beating me, he left my room. The moment that he did I locked my bedroom. Since that day, I started to fear him."

"Did he leave bruises?" Gregg interrupts and I nod. "Didn't your mother ask you what caused them?" I nod again, "Yes but I lied to her and said that I was a klutz and had fallen roughly. She believed me. That same night that he had beaten me, I began harming myself. I began cutting myself. At school I made sure no one noticed them; I would wear a jacket even if the sun was blazing hot. My friends would ask me why I wore a jacket, I'd lie to them as well and say I was cold. They would try to take the jacket from me but I never let them get to close to take it from me."

"You did everything you could to keep the cuts out of sight from everyone." Gregg whispers. "Even from me?"

I look down and nod. "As time went by, cutting had became a habit. I would only cut myself on occasions but.. lately I have been cutting myself almost every day."

"Why!?" His voice begins to get louder, "Why on Earth would you do that!?"

His tone of voice is unknown to my ears. "I-"

Gregg shakes his head. "I don't understand, Lucille! There is no reason valid enough for you to be cutting yourself!" I proceed in telling him about Sherry and my fathers affair, the bullying at school, Jake, Daisy and everything that basically turned me into the self-harming monster that I have become. Gregg still shakes his head in disapproval. "Why haven't you told your mother?!" He asks when I finish telling him everything.

"I can't cause her this pain!" I yell back, desperately. "I know she will blame herself!" She'd come up with a million reasons to put the blame on herself but it isn't her fault.

"You need to tell her, Lucille. I'll be there with you to tell her."

I shake my head, "No, Gregg. I won't tell her."

"Then I'll tell her. You -" I interrupt him before he goes any further. "I said no." I frown.

♡♡♡♡

The ride back to my house is silent; not the comfortable silence either. I quickly get off of his car and slam the door shut before he gets the chance to say a word to me. I don't want to hear anything from him; our conversation at the field was enough for today. I march my way to my bedroom, ignoring everyone who I pass. My mother gives me a worried glance as I pass her; I make my way to my room and slam the door securing it with lock. I throw myself on the floor and allow my tears to flow down my cheeks.

"So that's it? You won't tell her?" Gregg glares at me angrily.

I nod my head, "I made my decision, I won't tell my mother anything. She doesn't need to suffer in pain."

Gregg sighs frustrated, "I'm," He takes a breath, "I'm disappointed in you, Lucille." His words cut my like a knife.

"I don't live to make you proud of me." I talk back.

Gregg's eyes open wide, "Lucille -" I interrupt him again, "I want to go home. Take me home. Please." I want to be home, I don't like this conversation anymore.

"No," Gregg denies. "I'm not done talking to you about this."

I blink rapidly to avoid tears to run down my cheeks, "but I am."

I drop myself to the floor beside my bed and reach under it, sliding out the hidden box from under my bed. I take the lid off and grab the blade. For a moment, I just glare at it, angrily. Desperately. How can this small thing cause so much trouble? I wipe my tears away from my eyes angrily and slide the blade across my arms again, without stopping.

Again and again.. and again..