Help Me

Chapter 2

     It's been one of those nights. Horrible is the only word to describe it. Tears run down my face, my chest tightens painfully, I gasp for air.
     My feet drag across the scratchy white carpet of my apartment. My t-shirt is wet with tears as I make my way to my bathroom. I only turn on the lights surrounding the mirror to see myself. I see blonde hairs going in a million different directions, green eyes big and red, cheeks tear stained, and lips chapped; I am a disaster.
     "Just a nightmare..." I whisper to myself, eyes not daring to budge from the mirror.
     I try to keep them open, staring at the reflection standing in front of me. I see the person looking back at me; I recognize her. I can spot her flaws in seconds and I know her fears, but do I really know her?
     Camson always asked questions.
     "How do you cope?"
     "How does that make you feel?"
     "What do you enjoy?"
     The answer was always the same. "I don't know," I would say.
     My eyes close and my nightmare begins again. I see a medium built, tan, scruffy man with nothing but black surrounding us both. My back is pressed against an invisible wall, my thoughts scream louder than ever, and my body shakes in terror.
     The nightmare is reoccurring. I see that man all the time. I know what the nightmare means. It's obvious after you relive it so many times.
     The man represents my family. The darkness represents the lack of support. My shaking body is a sign of fear. I am scared of what I will lose or what comments will be thrown at me.
     I force my eyes open, disappointed to see that I'm the exact same everytime my eyes glance over the mirror. I long for change. I want to be prettier, thinner, smarter. Any improvement would bring a smile to my face.
     My feet move back to my bed, pushing through the uncomfortable carpet. Knowing my incapability to sleep after a nightmare like that, I scroll through Instagram, switching to Snapchat within minutes. I watch Donovan's story. I view the photos of his boyfriend cuddling him and smile. Their relationship is admirable.
     I've been to two meetings now. Donovan and I talk everynight and sit together at meetings. We laugh and nudge each other when Eric hands us anti-suicide papers. Donavon's lifestyle catches my attention and he loves it. A smile spreads across his face everytime I ask a question.
     BDSM isn't what I thought it was. At least, not when Donovan explains it. He tells me that it's his way of coping. It's about control and trust and love, not just pain and sadism. "It does stand for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism; but it's more than that," he always says.
     When he explains giving away control, he says he's stress free and happy. From his relationship, he's realized that he needs to love himself. I love hearing about it, but he thinks I want a relationship like that. I told him that I don't really participate in dating or being in a relationship, but he didn't believe me.
     My phone interrupts my thoughts when I get a notification.
     "Are you awake?" It's Donovan.
     "I just can't sleep," I type out and send.
    "Okay, that's great but idc," he says with a smiling emoji. "You have classes tomorrow, Miss 'I major in statistics and engineering physics'," he adds.
     I roll my eyes and type a quick "ok" before turning my phone off.
     "Could you maybe go to dinner tomorrow night? It's me and Seth and one of his friends."
     My eyes scan the message. Before I can type, "No, you're not setting me up with one of his friends, Donovan," he's already sent another message.
     "Please? It's not a double date. You need to be social and talk. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Goodnight!"
     The only thing I can do is sigh and tell him we can talk about the details tomorrow.
     I close my eyes but my mind is racing. Why can't I just be happy with myself? Why can't I be strong for once? I've tried everything under the sun, but nothing has worked.
     Writing was frustrating. My hand cramped. I would get upset if I made a grammar or spelling error. It did more harm than good.
     I don't have the patience nor the talent for coloring or drawing. The techniques are difficult. I could never be steady enough even if I wanted to.
     Music was a no from the very beginning. My voice is ugly and I don't understand music. The lines get jumbled and the notes look the same. It was annoying to try. Learning was near impossible.
     I enjoy solving problems. I like to talk to people, but my nerves prevent social interaction.
     I play Donovan's message over in my head. Am I so antisocial that my friend needs to help me make other friends? That was never my intention.
     As my vision gets foggy and my eyelids become heavy, I decide that I will go to dinner tomorrow. There's always a way to be okay; you just have to find it. Before another thought can cross my mind, darkness consumes me. This time it's peaceful. My body relaxes and I get the rest I've needed for days.
    
     Classes go by in a flash. I listen to my professors, type out notes and homework, and then I'm on my way home. The car ride was faster than usual because traffic was thin.
     My mind keeps skipping to dinner this afternoon. I'm hoping Seth's friend will be gay and have no interest in me, or that's what I'm telling myself. Subconsciously, I think I want someone to be attracted to me. Sometimes it's nice to know that people like you, even if you don't like them back.
     As soon as I walk through the door of my apartment, my phone dings.
     "Dinner is at 7 tonight. Meet at Red Lobster and tell them you're at the table with Brandon. He'll be there early."
     I read Donovan's message before jumping in the shower. I have about an hour before I have to leave. I let the warm water run over my body, trying to relax my muscles. I scrub my hair clean with peach scented shampoo. By the time I get out, I only have 40 minutes left.
     Lacking the energy for anything else, my hair goes into a bun. I throw on a casual, knee length, long sleeved, black dress with white flower print scattered around the soft fabric. I do my makeup like I always do.
     I'm in my car 5 minutes early, so I take my time to drive to the restaurant. I listen to music and pray that Donovan and Seth are already there. It takes 15 more minutes before my car is parked and my door is open.
     My feet stumble over one another as I make my way to the door. I know messaging Donovan would be useless. If he's driving, his phone is off. If he's already inside with Seth and Brandon, it's on silent.
     "How may I help you,” the short brunette girl standing at the door asks.
     "I think he's already here; I'm with Brandon."
    She guides me to a table. Sitting on one side is Brandon, I'm assuming. He has a square shaped face with medium brown hair. Glasses sit on his sharply angled nose, providing a frame for his eyes. He half smiles before saying, "Amber?"
     "Yeah," I smile. "Brandon, I assume."
     "Absolutely-"
     My phone rings. I apologise as I fumble to get it out of my purse and answer it. I take my place across from the table as I say, "Hello?"
     "Hey," Donovan's voice fills my ears. "So, we're not going to be able to make it tonight. I hope you have fun though."
     "Donovan-" I start, voice shaking with irritation.
     "Oh hush. I told you it wasn't a double date. Now it's just a..." he pauses, "regular date. Tell me how it goes."
     He ends the call before I can get a word out. I plaster a fake smile onto my face. "They aren't going to be able to make it tonight," I explain to Brandon.
     "Oh that's okay," he laughs. "I'm sure we can manage to eat dinner on our own."

     I apologise for the filler chapter. Hopefully you guys enjoyed it. Thank you for reading!