CLOSER | H.S.

54.

"Some things only God can forgive."

Kesha - Praying

[TW: Sexual abuse. Marked between * so you don't have to skip the whole chapter if you don't want to!]

I wondered if my life would ever get better. I'm always falling into one black hole after another, always disappointing others. I'm always finding myself in the bottom of a well in a need to make a change. I'm always blaming others for my mistakes, trying to figure out how I got there in the first place. But then, it all gets better and I'm happy again, I have fixed what needed to be fixed. It can only last a few moments though, for I am beyond repair. I have been broken many times than I can count. How do I get out of this dark place my mind brings me every time I'm not desperately trying to distract myself from it?

The loneliness crept in every morning, every night. I needed to find a way to get that darkness out of my head, because I wouldn't survive if I kept living like this. It didn't matter how many hours Harry spent with me, every time he left, it came back. It was bothering me beyond my own control, to the point where the only solution I could find was to use again. That would keep me occupied, it would free my mind of my inner demons and replace it with others that I can handle.

There they were again. The voices. My own addiction speaking to me, my own voice betraying me. It was overwhelming, but I wouldn't cave. I couldn't do this to myself.

I've always been too proud to admit, but I needed professional help. I needed someone to help me get rid of my depression for good. However, I had no money to afford that right now, so I would have to improvise. I needed to find a new way to cope with my mental illness, drawing and painting wasn't helping me anymore.

I took one of Harry's pillows, which sadly was the only thing that remotely looked and smelled human. I placed it upwards in a big chair in the living room and awkwardly sat on the couch, with my knees pressing hard against each other.

"This is stupid", I said out loud, that being the first time I ever said anything being alone in the house.

I took a deep breath and imagined an old, elegant lady with a notepad on her lap, encouraging me to speak. "I guess I should give it a try", I looked down, avoiding eye contact with my fake therapist.

"I've been incredibly lonely lately", I stated the obvious. "I didn't even know it was possible to be this lonely. I feel like I could die from it."

I imagined her scoffing and telling me I was exaggerating.

"Honestly, it's weird. I've always known that I'm alone in this world, I've known this since I was a kid. But now, I can actually, physically feel it. Even when I'm with Harry, I feel better, but still, completely alone."

"When did you realise as a kid that you were alone in the world?" Her voice was soft, I imagined.

"Uh-" I hesitated and chose the right words to say even to myself. "As a child, I needed help, but it never came. They didn't care."

"Tell me more about this, what did you need help with?"

*

"Um..." I took a long pause. "I had an uncle. He began to act very... Inappropriately with me after I turned ten. It went on for years and in the early stages, I tried to tell my mother. She shrugged it off and acted like it was a delusion of mine, that my uncle, with his pristine reputation, would never do this."

"And you felt like no one would help you?"

"I didn't just feel that. It happened. No one helped me. Maybe that's why I'm feeling this way right now- I mean, it probably is, but..."