Split

Talking

I don't know how long he was showering for, but I was debating going in and checking on him when the water suddenly stopped running. I stared at the door waiting for him to come out, but he didn't. I got up and knocked gently, "Dennis? Dennis, I'm coming in."
I opened the door and peered into the room.
"Is everything okay?"
He was standing next to the toilet, staring down at whatever filled it, so I darted over and flushed the chain.
"Don't look at that, just come out here with me."
He was back to being spotless as usual, however some of his skin was red which I'd imagine was from scrubbing too hard. He didn't have a towel, just wore his underwear-now wet from not drying himself. I picked up a towel, trying not to look too much at his dripping body, and handed it to him. He barely looked at it so I draped it over his shoulders and lead him onto my bed. I put a towel over the sheet for him to sit on and I sat next to him.
"I can still feel it... I can't get it off..."

"You're clean," I insisted, "look at yourself."
He began to look distressed and I put my hand on his arm, "look at yourself. There's nothing there anymore."
He glanced down, not looking convinced, and I squeezed his arm, "There's no blood."

He finally looked at me, eyes full of pain, "what have I done?"

"Just calm down, we can sort this out."

"No we can't, Patricia won't stop this... I have no choice, I'm gonna be forced to do this for the rest of my life and there's nothing I can do about it... all the girls... I..." he covered his face and began to sob, "I don't know what to do."

I put a hand on his shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort him, "have you spoken to her?"

"She won't listen to me, she doesn't care. I can't go through that again... I... can't..." he hunched over more than he already was and I put my arm around him, letting him lean into me. I didn't know how to help, I knew Patricia wouldn't give a shit whether he wanted to help anymore or not, I was just glad that the others didn't have to experience this as well.

"Maybe you should let Patricia or Hedwig take the light?" I suggested, "Then you don't have to be here like this."

"No, I need someone to talk to, I don't want to go back to being on my own."
He straightened up a little and wiped his eyes, "I'm sorry. I should have learned to control myself by now..."

"It's okay, you don't have to be strong all the time. I wouldn't be if I was you."

"Thanks... for talking... for understanding..."

"That's okay, what are friends for?"

He smiled a little at that, "what am I going to do?"

"Honestly? I don't know. But we can figure that out once you've calmed down."

He took a deep breath and looked down, "ah, I'm sorry. I don't even have any clothes on."
He pulled the towel from his shoulders and wrapped it around his waist.

I wasn't complaining, but I remembered myself and pushed that thought out of my head, "it's fine."

"I need to get some air... and some clothes, but... can I come back later?"

"Of course."

He got up slowly and went to the door. He stopped and looked at the floor before turning back to me, "thank you for this... and I'm sorry I got upset."
He turned and left without saying anything else.

I lay back against the pillow and sighed loudly. What was Patricia going to say?