Broken (BoyxBoy)

Part III

For anyone who's thinking: What?! Didn't this story just have two parts?! Why is there a third?! It's because I decided to divide it into the original four parts this story has. In the story, they just weren't marked as chapters but there was a division. So I decided to turn them into chapters. 

Anyway, people who already read the story, fear not, there is no new info here, and for the people who are just now reading this story, go on reading :3

Love you guys, let me know what you think alright?

Hope you enjoy,

-> Desyre

                Back in my house after the appointment with Dr. Folsom I laid in bed going over something she’d said. They day you stop being ashamed of your scars is the day you’ll be truly free. Until then, you’ll have the guilt and shame of carrying them on your arms with you. How could I stop being ashamed of them if what I’d done was shameful? I had taken the coward’s way out. How was I supposed to forget that and flaunt them at people?

“There is no need to flaunt them.” She went on. “You just need to accept they’re there. Like you accept another defect of your body, like having a big nose, thin lips, bad hair, or being skinny.”

“I’m not skinny.” I countered immediately.

                She rose an eyebrow at me.

“I never said you were.” She said simply.

                I flinched both in the memory and in the present. It was obvious that I was self-conscious about the fact that I was unhealthily skinny through the way I’d denied it so quickly. Just like it was obvious I was self-conscious about my scars through the way I wore nothing more than long sleeved shirts and was always making sure the cuffs stayed well over my hands. How was I supposed to embrace them?

“What you did is considered by most like cowardice, but I disagree. Most people are terrified of death, yet you are brave enough to step into it before your time. Most people spend their lives running away from death. I’m not saying it’s alright or that I support it, but you need to see that bravery and strength in you in order to begin to embrace the scars. Anorexic people need to accept that the way they see themselves is distorted in order to do begin to see themselves like they really are. Most people need to accept they have a problem before they can do something about it. So until you accept the scars you won’t be able to face your problem and work towards fixing it.” Dr. Folsom had said as she looked me right in the eyes.

                Brave? What could be brave about running away from life?

“I’m not suggesting you accept your scars by tomorrow, it’ll take time for you to understand what I’m saying and wrap your brain around it, but you’re not going to sit on your thumbs waiting for acceptance to come to you like an epiphany. It’s a baby steps process. Little by little we’re going to get you to accept them. In the spirit of this you’re going to stand in front of your mirror, naked, and name the things you like about your body and why. Then you’re going to name the things you don’t like and why. And finally you’re going to name the things you don’t mind. You’ll need to bring me that paper next week and we’ll go over it together.” Dr. Folsom continued.

                I looked at the standing mirror in the corner of my room still covered with dust. I hadn’t really looked in the mirror since I came back home a week ago. In fact, I ran away from mirrors. Tomorrow Shel would see it and most probably ask me about it, and I’d have to clean it. Or I could clean it right now at my own pace, in the privacy of my room, without having to worry about the fact that he was watching me. Suddenly something registered in my brain. Dr. Wheeler was in prison. There was no way he could be spying on me. So Shel wasn’t reporting back to him. So why was he being nice to me then? I got up and looked through my window at the house on my right. The lights were on, which meant he was home. Did I have the courage to ask him? Did I want to know the answer? Moreover, was I ready to hear the answer?