Bones Exposed - AC/AA

/ 5 /

"Six.. seven months.. ago?" Alan said his response as more of a question, his uncertainty clearly not a lie.

"When did you start the cutting on your thighs?" Austin followed up.

"Uhm, maybe.. two years ago? A little over two years ago." Alan cleaned that response up, it wasn't fair for him to be so unsure on both questions.

Austin sighed out loud and slammed his fists into his steering wheel before leaning his head against the top of it.

"Who fucking prompted that, Alan?!" Austin raised his voice, and it was clear that it wasn't going to help.

"I-I.. I.. was being called, called tons of names and.. I can't," Alan stammered a bit around what he meant to say, and backed into the seat a little more. His back to the door and window, rather than against the seat. He clutched the belt in his hands, as he turned his head to the floor.

"You're ruining a perfectly good body, you know that?! You're fucking-fucking beautiful and you're ruining it! You're messing with your skin, the same kid who made a full recovery from his full blown fucking acne is taking a knife and swiping it all over wherever he sees fit! On top of that, you're stretching yourself fuckin-fucking damn near to nothing and wasting away as you do it, for what? For who?! What got it through your head that-that that's okay? Who said that it worked? Did someone bribe you? Did it start as a joke? Who fucking put that one through your stubborn little skull, huh?!" Austin shouted, and Alan was so thankful that the car was closed but not thankful for it being locked. He hoped no one on the outside could hear the inside.

"I-I'm, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," Alan whimpered out, clenching his eyes and hiding his face in his lap. His knees were close to his chest, his vans keeping his feet on the seat with his rear. He was in a ball, a ball of fear. He was trembling at all his surface, terrified. When was the beating supposed to start?

"Who told you to start throwing your fucking meals up, huh?!" Austin demanded again, and pulled Alan's shirt to move him close again. Over the console, Alan shook with his head tilted down and eyes welling with tears.

"T-TJ, he, he told me to, he told me it worked, he told me, he said it'd make it, I'd be prettier I'd, I'm sorry, I really am," Alan whispered out, and he felt the tears fall from his cheeks. They landed all over the console and splattered down his shirt.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" Austin let go of Alan, and he slammed his steering wheel again.

"I-I'm sorry, Austin, I-I, I'm sorry, I am, I'm really sorry," Alan mumbled, repeating it over and over again as he tucked his head back into his legs.

"Alan, I-I.. I can't-see you tear yourself apart anymore. I can't let you continue this." Austin sighed out, and Alan peeked his eyes to Austin.

"What's gonna, wh-what's gonna happen what-what are you gonna do to me?" Alan was full blown freaking out now, feeling like nothing more than sand in the bottom of the car mats.

"I'm gonna get us, I'm getting dinner and I'm going to take your knives and all that crap. No more, no more of that." Austin shook his head, and he leaned his head against the steering wheel again.

"I-I.. am I in trouble?" Alan asked, voice soft like a curious mouse.

"No. Alan, no, you're not. TJ sure as hell is." Austin scoffed, and put the car into reverse to back out of the spot they were in.

"I-I'm sorry, I really am, I don't mean to, I don't mean to mess myself up so badly. You gotta, you probably can understand," Alan began and Austin cut him off.

"I do, I really do, Alan. That's the problem." Austin hushed, and he lifted his shirt to show a section of his bare chest that was blank of tattoos or art. It had tons of small thin little lines like the ones on his thigh.