Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 90

Trigger warning. I'm sorry. This is kinda upsetting so consider this a warning. :)

"I can talk about it, now," Remington says to Andy, looking up from his book. They're still in bed, but woke up half an hour ago.

Andy smiles. "Whenever you're ready, pretty."

The boy puts the book down. "So, I keep having nightmares, obviously. You know that. I keep having nightmares about you." He goes quiet.

"About me?"

Remington shifts anxiously. "Yep." He goes quiet again, fiddles with his fingers.

"Okay. What happens in them?"

Remington doesn't want to talk about it anymore. He regrets bringing it up. "Just stuff," he mumbles, and gets out of bed. "You don't need to make me breakfast, I'm not hungry." He pulls on a shirt and routes through the drawers for tracksuit bottoms.

The older of the two frowns, but knows not to talk about food, even if Remington brings it up. "I'm taking you to therapy today, okay?"

"Okay." He leaves the room and goes downstairs without saying another word to Andy, and tries to figure out why he closed up like that suddenly. He wants to tell Andy about the nightmares but now he can't, and he doesn't even know why.

He boils the kettle and makes a cup of black coffee and sits with his head in his hands, tearing up when his stomach rumbles. Andy comes down. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He asks, rubbing his shoulders.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Remington insists, lifting his head up and sipping the coffee, which is too hot and burns his mouth. Andy runs his hands down the boy's chest, and Remington jumps to is feet, banging the table and making the mug fall over. "Don't touch me!" He shouts. The nightmares are too much to handle now. He's convinced Andy really will hurt him. Like-really really hurt him. "Don't touch me," he repeats, in a quiet, shaky voice.

Andy picks up the mug and soaks the spilled coffee up with a tea towel. "Sweetheart-"

"No! I'm not your sweetheart! I'm just your toy. I'm just here so you can play with me, and then when you get bored, you'll break me and throw me away, because that's what everyone does! Throws me away! Emerson did! He got tired of me fucking everything up and threw me out of his car! Why don't you hit me now? Get it over with? Or maybe you wanna throw a glass at me, or-or push me down the stairs? How about this?" He pulls a knife from the rack. "Stab me!" The boy waves the knife in front of him. "STAB ME!"

"Re-"

"Or should I do it? Then you can watch me die! You could film it and send it to Holly! Maybe post it online. Remington Leith stabs himself because he's crazy. It'd make the headlines! But then again, it probably wouldn't, because no one, NO ONE, gives a fucking shit about me! Not you! Not Emerson! Not even Abigail! No one!" He gasps for air and drops the knife.

"Remington, look at me," Andy tries, "breathe."

The boy holds his head. He doesn't look up. "I mean-why would anyone give a shit abut me? I don't blame you. I know I'm a walking fucking disaster. I can't even eat like a normal fucking human, I've been in a mental hospital twice, and I'm anorexic! ANOREXIC! Who could ever love someone who can't even enjoy a fucking meal? Who would ever want someone who can't go out with friends because they're scared of hallucinating? Who would want someone who won't open social media because everyone on there wants them to die? Who could ever want me?" He kicks the knife and it slides across the tiled floor. "I want you to stab me," he says, in a voice that Andy's never heard before.

Andy picks up the knife, puts it on the side. "Breathe," he repeats, "look at me. Breathe."

Remington is still for a second of two before grabbing another knife and holding it against his stomach, right over the scar that Holly gave him. "If you won't, I will," he threatens.