Atelophobia || Graser10 // discontinued

5

*before you read*
Triggering warning for later in the chapter, if you're suicidal or depressed, DO NOT READ THE DESIGNATED AREA OF THE STORY. And remember, stay strong and I love you!

It was the next time to go to the therapist, and last week was just the preliminaries, I knew. I've been to different therapists so many times, I stopped going when the doctor realized that helping others, more specifically Zach, was healing for me.

Don't ask why I had to get "healed" it'll be explained, all in good time.

Now, he would be asking more and more personal questions, trying to prod his way to the deepest, saddest parts of his subconscious.

As I expected, he started off on the worst foot he ever could've gotten off on.

"So Zach, have you ever been abused by family members? Or ex's?" He questioned.

"Um... well actually..." he fiddled with his shirt and I took his hand. "I... I did. By my parents."

"Oh," he looked at him with a look of concern. "This is a safe space, you can say anything and it won't leave this room."

Zach nodded in understanding.

"So what did they do to you? Physical abuse? Emotional abuse? Sexual abuse?" He faltered at the last one.

"It was a mix of physical and emotional. They would come home from work..." he paused to breathe as I ran my thumb over his hand letting him know it was okay to say more. "they would come home from work drunk as fuck, and if I was sleeping they would always say that I was a worthless piece of shit and that no one would ever want me. They kept saying it and I eventually believed it. It went on for the longest time, I kept thinking that this was how everyone lived, until I was 14. My best friend Jarrett came over to my house for a sleepover. For the first few hours it was fine, they were sober, but like I said, they never failed to smack me, not too hard to leave a scar, but enough to leave a small bruise, and tell me I was worthless before bed. Jarrett called child protective services and that was the end of it. I was put into the foster system 'til I was 18 and had to move out. That was when I started YouTube as just a hobby, and started talking to the love of my life, Sage."

"I understand that it's always a hard transition to move to a foster home, did you ever feel depressed? Suicidal?" He asked, writing some more on his stupid notepad.

"I- I did, quite a bit actually... I was pretty sad and unhappy with everything that was going on in my life. I was-" he looked at me, pleading for help, I knew he didn't want to say it.

"He was suicidal and anorexic. He... starved himself and..." I answered, slowly, as this was a sore topic for the both of us. "and cut himself, often." I managed to choke out before letting a tear roll down my cheek.

"I see... and when was the last time he relapsed?" He asked before offering me a tissue.

"Thanks," I said, taking the tissue. "The last time he starved himself..." I breathed in, trying to get some air, "was so long ago, I was so proud when he got to the point where he could eat normal portions of food. About... a year and a half? That was about 5 months into our relationship?"

Zach nodded again, confirming that I got the date right.

"And the last time he cut? This ones more recent..." I continued. "you wanna tell him baby?"

"No... I'll just end up crying some more." he answered.

"Okay... the last time he relapsed was 2 weeks ago..." A flashback came into my mind.

*Triggering here*

I was out getting grocceries, we were still in the midst of unpacking our items, we only moved into our new house a few days before. I left Zach to unpack the pictures and old books. That was such a mistake.

He had somehow gotten to his old photo album, despite my relentless attempts for him to throw it away. It had pictures of him in his foster home, along with some of his parents.

He was reminded of how much he hated the foster home, the parents had about 10 children already in the house, and they all bullied him for being depressed. It was a matter of time before he started to cut for the first time, he wasn't completely sure what he was doing to himself, all he knew was that it felt good, for the first time in years, he felt good.

He flipped though the pictures, seeing the icy coldness in his parents along with the sense of hatred in the foster parents' eyes.

He unscrewed the razors of an old pencil sharpener and did it again.

One after another, it soon came out of control. Deeper and deeper with each cut, blood dripped down his arm along with tears stinging his eyes.

Thankfully, before he could do anything that would be permanent, I walked in the front door. Hearing sobbing in the bathroom, I barged open the door, seeing a helpless Zach, crying uncontrollably on the ground, a razor in hand and blood all over the tiled floor.

I kneeled down to him and took the small blade out of his hand. He looked at me with a look of worry, scared of what I would think.

I took a small washcloth and dampened it with water, dabbing his wounds and told him to change his clothes while I cleaned the bathroom up. All with a blank expression on my face, I couldn't believe, after being clean for so long, almost 5 months it happened again.

I wiped away all the blood and slowly made my way to the bedroom, seeing a weak-looking Zach sitting up in the bed. I changed my clothes and joined him on the bed, not saying a word.

I kissed his scars and let him lay on my chest until he went to sleep as I quietly sang to him.

"Well don't lean on me 'cause I am falling, please don't fall with me.
I really need you here, yeah I need you so don't leave.
And don't count on me 'cause I am drowning, please don't drown with me.
Just hold me in your heart, let the ocean take me."

*end of triggering*

"I think this is enough for now, thank you for being honest." he says after telling the story.

"No problem, just one more step closer to helping Zach, right?"