Page 98 of Landon & Shay: Part One

I nodded once, knowing she meant it, but I knew words wouldn’t fix it. It wasn’t something that had to be said; it was something that needed to be shown.

I kept my back turned to her, lifted the edges of my shirt, and pulled it over my head. I revealed the markings that raced up and down my arms. Cuts from my past panics. Cuts from my messed-up brain. Cuts from my pained heart.

Her gasp was loud and clear. “Oh my gosh, Landon. What happened to you?!” she said, moving over toward me to examine the marks to my skin. Each mark stood for a time I lost myself. Each mark showed my pain and struggles against my skin.

My scars were healed, but still they were redder than the other parts of my skin. They raced in different directions. Sideways, up and down, slices of me exposed for her to see.

I closed my eyes, knowing they probably terrified her. Each day I showered, my fingers would brush against the memories of my mind.

She probably thought I was the worst kind of damaged goods, unworthy of love, unworthy of anything and anyone. Who could love someone with a mind as heavy as mine? Who could want someone with such ugly markings of their pain resting against their skin?

“My, um…” I took a breath, still unable to voice it—my truth. “Look, I get if you don’t want to hook up after seeing this, after seeing how fucked up I am in my head, but I figured I should show you before just freaking you out and taking off my shirt and—”

A chill raced down my spine as her fingers moved across the markings on my forearms. My shoulders rounded forward, and she traced the markings. My head lowered and I shut my eyes. I’d never felt so weak, so exposed…so real.

“You’re sad?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“How sad?”

“Very sad.”

“How often?”

I swallowed hard. “All the time.” That truth was the hardest to tell. “My uncle was sad, too. He kept his hurting to himself. I saw it sometimes. I saw it, and I didn’t do anything about it. Not that I could. But, I should’ve tried harder. If I’d tried harder, maybe he wouldn’t have…” I took a breath. I lowered my head. “I found his journals after he passed away. He had a lot of dark thoughts. He was so lonely…but the scariest thing about reading his words was how much they matched my own mind, and that scares me. It scares me how much of my uncle I see inside of myself.”

“You’re not him, Landon,” she whispered, and I nodded slowly.

“Yeah…but what if I’m worse? What if my pieces are so messed up that I won’t ever be able to pull myself up? What if I end up like him?”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I won’t let that happen.”

I shut my eyes. I tried to push back my emotions. I tried to understand why she hadn’t yet run away from the mess that was me.

“Can I ask you something that I asked you before?” she whispered, her voice low, controlled, perfect.

“Yes.”

“Are you depressed?”

The tears rolled down my cheeks, and I didn’t even try to wipe them away. I nodded slowly, feeling as if there was a bomb inside my chest that was seconds away from exploding. “Yes.”

“Okay.” She sighed and moved in closer. “Okay.”

That was all she said. She didn’t run. She didn’t tell me my depression was wrong. She didn’t shy away.

That was exactly what I needed.

I just needed someone to stay.

Her mouth fell against the scars and she gave them small kisses. She made sure to kiss every single one, before moving to my cheeks and kissing my tears away.

“You are more than the story these scars tell, Landon. You are more than your uncle. You are more than your depression. You are kind.” She kissed my chest. “You are strong.” She kissed my neck. “You are intelligent.” She kissed my palms. “You are talented.” She kissed my thumbs. “You are beautiful.” She kissed the corners of my eyes. “And this world needs you. I know those are just words, and you might not even believe them, but I am going to tell you them every single day, just as a reminder when you need it.”

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