"Why did you cut?" I turned around and looked at Maybeline who was walking through the door. I turned back around, my back facing her. "I went to ask Anne about you and she said Harry found you bleeding."
I grabbed the pad of paper and a pen.
I am sorry.
"I don't want sorry hun. I know you went through hell at a young age but hurting yourself isn't going to do any good." Tears ran down my cheeks and fell on the paper, the ink spreading into a complete mess.
"I was thinking, Anne told me about a therapist. Maybe he could help."
I looked up, my eyebrows furrowing together.
Why does she have a therapist?
"Turns out Harry isn't her son. More like his aunt. His mum died from cancer and his father was awful. His father was abusive and a pedophile. He also sold drugs. His father was eventually arrested. But he cuts like you and goes through bad things." Maybeline told me and I nodded. I should feel bad, sad for Harry. I shouldn't feel happy that I'm not alone. I shouldn't be glad somebody is like me in the slightest way. But I was.
'Oh' Was all I was able to write.
"So, you want to go to a therapist?"
I shook my head no and Maybeline sighed.
I grabbed my pen and walked off, out the door. I walked to the house next door and knocked. I looked down at my worn jeans and sweater. My black hair was pulled into a bun, some loose strands hanging loosly over my face.I tugged on my sweater, covering my wrists as the door opened. Anne stood in the doorway, smiling softly. "Hello Delia. You come to see Harry?"
I nodded and Anne grinned. "He is downstairs." Anne told me and I nodded, walking down the stairs, to the basement. I opened the door and walked inside, loud music filling my ears. I looked to my right and saw Harry, his fists slamming against the punching bag in the middle of the room. A bunch of other exercise equipment filled the room and a stereo was on a table that was against the wall. I looked at Harry who was sweating and panting, swinging the punching bag back and forth. His hair was pulled back with a bandana and he only wore some shorts and boxing gloves. His body was covered in tattoos and I stood still, examining each one. There were so many covered on his arms and chest. I walked to the stereo and turned the music down a little. Harry turned around and looked at me. I waved and Harry waved back. Harry walked to me and turned the music back up.
"Follow me." Harry told me and I nodded, following him to the punching bag. He took off his gloves and pulled my pen out of my hand, replacing them with his gloves. They were big and loose on my tiny hands but I kept them on. "Punch the bag." I looked at Harry, a startled look on my face and I punched the bag a little. "No. No. No. You have to take all your anger out. Anger you feel towards anything or anything." Harry walked behind me and wrapped his hands around my wrist showing me how to punch. "See?" I nodded and Harry grinned "Now, beat the crap out of that fucking bag."
Harry backed up and I started punching the bag like Harry showed me. I looked at Harry and he was smiling "Go on." I looked at the bag and thought of Howard. Thought about all the things he did to me. Thought about how I wished I could kill him and myself. Thought about how I hated his guts. I started punching the bag furiously, my rage coming out of me. I punched even more and more, the bag rocking back and forth. I punched even more, feeling tears running down my cheeks as images of Howard flashed through my mind. I started to step back and I started crying, wails escaping my lips as I could see Howard.
"You are mine child. I will do anything I want to do to you. I want you and you are mine. And if you dare try to run off I will shot you in the God damn head just like I did to your daddy! YOU ARE FUCKING MINE" Howard screamed in my face and I whimpered. Howard pulled off his boxers and had entered me, making me scream
