The Pieces He Needs

Chapter eight ↠

I look at myself in the mirror, trying to take in what I see. Black, purple and blue covers my left eye.  I lift my shirt up to reveal my stomach, and am once again shocked at what I see. A red and purple bruise is tattooed onto my chest. I take a deep breath in and out, trying to hold back the tears. I was going to be okay. 

I attempt to pull out makeup but my hands are shaking so much I spill it all over the ground.

Idiot.

I apply a thick layer of foundation, covering my black eye the best I can. I looked like a cake face but it was the best I could do. I was going to therapy today, who knows what Ben is going to think. It doesn't matter, I would just go through the session and then get out of there. No questions asked.

I quickly grab my keys and hop in the car, hoping with all my heart that the day would go well. I had taken quite a liking to Ben, but today there was no way I wanted to see him. But it's for Sam. I start the car

***

"I have an appointment to see Mr Davis."

"He'll be right with you." She grumbles, typing continually on her keyboard and indicating with her head for me to sit down.

It felt like everyone was watching me today, like everyone was judging. I felt vulnerable, and nervous, and a little light headed. Every thing was swirling around me; my head thumping.

Thump, thump, thump.

'Please let this be over, please let this be over' I think, fiddling with my thumps and rocking on my chair nervously.

"Hello." I look up to see Ben, with his normal, beautiful smile. And for just a split second the pounding in my head stopped, and his face was the only thing I could see. But then it started again, and all I wanted to do was go home.

"Hey" I mumble, forcing myself to stand from my chair. I wince in pain.

"Are you okay?" He said, looking at me with his eyes tight and worried.

"Yeah." I say, forcing a smile and walking down the hallway in front of him. 

My stomach ached, and my head hurt so bad I felt I could throw up, but I knew I had to fight through it. That's what Sam would want; for me to try as hard as I can for him. I didn't want to disappoint him again. I hated disappointing him.

We take our normal seats, but something feels different somehow. Maybe it's because of last nights coffee situation, or maybe it's just because I'm feeling nauseous. 

"How are you feeling?" 

I feel like rolling my eyes, but I fight back the urge. This was the same thing he said every time we started, and I just wasn't in the mood.

"Fine." I groan, moving uncomfortably in my chair.

"Are you sure because you look a little pale-"

"I said I'm fine!" I snap, my un-patience getting the best of me.

I sigh, sinking into my chair and scratching my head in frustration. How could I have been so rude. 

"I'm sorry, bad day I guess." 

His brows drew together and he bit his lover lip. His face looked pinched, his eyes glassy. I couldn't tell what emotion was running through his mind. Was it concern? 

"You know that's what I'm here for right." He says just above a whisper, "I'm your therapist, you're suppose to tell me when your having a bad day."

He was right, that's what I came here for. So that he could dig deep and find the source of my problem. How was he suppose to do that if all I was doing was lying to him. Granted, I wasn't going to tell him what happened last night, but I would tell him about my past. If that's what I had to do to fix myself.

"How bout you just start asking some questions?" I suggest, looking up at him in what I hope is a genuine smile.

He looks down at his notes and writes something, though I can tell there's something bothering him. Something he's not happy with. Why do I have to share my emotions when he can't even share his own?

"You told me you were abused when you were younger." He looks up at me for a second, before continuing, "Who abused you."

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. If there was any way I was going to get through this without crying I would have to take it slow. 

"My father." I reply, biting my lower lip and looking down at my hands.

"What sort of things did he do to you?" He questions, leaning back in his chair and waiting for my response.

I remember when I was one year old. There were only five words in my vocabulary. Mumma, dadda, higher, hurting and stop. A weird selection for a one year old I must say. On rare occasions I remember my father would pick me up and spin me around. He would laugh and I would laugh and I remember screaming, "Higher dadda! Higher!" And he would lift me higher and we would laugh until our tummies hurt. But on Friday nights when dad had finished his bears, and he was screaming and hitting mum, the words that I would most often use were, "Dadda stop hurting mumma." Those four words were my downfall.

"He would hit me, maybe belt me if I deserved it."

I watched as Ben's face crinkled up in a cringe, but he quickly tried to hide it.

"How did it feel?"

"What"

"How did it feel emotionally, I mean." 

I can feel my palms begin to sweat and more memories I've tried so hard to forget wriggles into my mind. Blood rushes in my ears and my pulse skyrockets, I can feel my face become hot. Talking about my emotions was impossible for me. It made me feel them all over again, the pain, the sadness, the feeling of rejection. 

"I-um-um" I stutter over my words, trying to re-gain my self control. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't. 

"I don't f-feel comfortable t-talking about-t it." I manage to stutter out, looking at anything in the room except for his face. I knew my face was burning like a tomato.

"I understand." He says, closing his notebook. "That's the end of the session."

"Great." I say much too enthusiastically, jumping up from my seat too fast. All of a sudden I felt an intense piercing pain shooting through my chest. The world seems in hyperdrive as adrenaline pulsates through my veins with loud booms, every sound is magnified to a countless number. I couldn't breathe, my vision clouding.

"Are you alright!" Ben says, wrapping a hand around my waist to support me from falling. 

I lean on his shoulder for support, trying to re-gain my balance. I wince as I wait for the pain to sub-side, which it eventually does. 

"What's wrong with you?" He questions, looking down at my hand that's now clutching onto my stomach. 

Before I have time to react he's pulled up the bottom of my shirt just enough to reveal the giant bruise on my stomach. I quickly remove his hand, sitting back into my chair and relaxing my muscles.

"I-I" I desperately try to think of an excuse, "I bought a new apartment and as I was moving in I dropped my cupboard on myself." 

I cringe, knowing how lame the excuse is. How on earth was he going to fall for that. Idiot.

"That sounds like something I would do." He laughs, a giant grin spreading across his face.

He fell for it, oh thank goodness he fell for it. 

I give him a reassuring smile, thanking my lucky stars I had gotten away with it this time.

---

Do you guys think Ben will find out about what Sam is doing? And do you guys think Amanda is being stupid for staying with him? Is it ok if you guys let me know if the story is going well because I'm not really sure if it is and I'm super worried its not :) I really want to make friends so DM me if you want to be ma friend :D

Love heaps x

Gracie x