Page 55 of The Lies Always Told

“I know, and maybe that’s why I want to. You’ve never asked, but I still want to tell you.” She smiles softly at me and takes a deep breath. “I was eleven the first time I hurt myself. It was the first day of virtual high school classes for me, but I was physically in the middle school building with kids my age. I would sit in the back of a classroom, and instead of taking sixth grade math, I was taking algebra two on Florida Virtual School. It took care of my social needs while academically giving me what I needed, but…middle schoolers are tough. Too many hormones, too many emotions, and when they don’t understand something, they usually are mean and angry. They needed someone on the receiving end, and for them, it was me. Things started to get out of control, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Nellie lets out a small, broken laugh. “I don’t even know where the thought began, just that it did. So, I took a small blade from my dad’s toolbox and cut myself. It hurt, but at least I controlled the pain.”

She stops, doesn’t say anything else, so I ask, “Then what happened?”

“Well, my mom found out. Instead of freaking out, she just talked to me. She listened to me, she asked questions, and when she finally figured out how to help, she took me to therapy. It changed my life. Swimming helps a ton as well. I haven’t done it since I was twelve, even though sometimes it crosses my mind. I like control, but just like I can control pain, I can control pleasure,” she says, smiling wickedly at me. Everything makes more sense now. Her pleasure-seeking habits, the way she likes it when I teeter on the line of pain and comfort. She needs it, and lately, she’s been handing over control to me.

“If at any point, you think about hurting yourself again, can you tell me?”

She nods and asks, “Can you do me another favor?”

“Anything.”

“Please don’t look at me differently now. I like how you look at me. You make me feel wanted and desired and beautiful. I believe those things about myself, but it’s good seeing it reflected somewhere other than a mirror.”

I shake my head. “I could never look at you differently, because nothing you share will make you mean any less to me. Nothing you share will make me want you less. Nellie, you are beautiful. I wantyou.I desireyou.All of you. I see you. Nothing about you is ugly. I will be grateful forever that you let me in and shared this with me.”

She swallows hard, blinking up at me as if she’s waiting for me to flinch, to look away, to take it back, but I won’t. All I see is someone who is strong and vulnerable at the same time, someone who fought battles no one else could see and found a way around it, who found a healthier way to cope.

I squeeze her hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“You’re still here,” I say softly. “That’s what matters. I just told you my favorite place was between your legs, but really, my favorite place is whereyouare. All of you.”

For the first time since she started speaking, she lets out a breath that doesn’t sound like she’s carrying the weight of the past with it. She closes her eyes, and in no time, her breathing changes. I get up and put some pants on to go back to the car to get our bags. I get my cherry juice that I don’t even need any more since falling asleep next to her, but I take it to bed anyway. Habit, I guess.

She looks so peaceful. No monsters haunting her thoughts. No fears, no pain. And I’m about to, what? Drown her in a health rabbit hole with me? Dr. Diaz hasn’t been able to give me an answer, and if my previous medical record is any indication, it could take weeks before they do, even months. I don’t want Nellie to have to deal with this when I don’t know how to deal with it myself. It’s out of my control and out of hers. How would she handle the tests and the doctor’s visits ontop of everything else? How would she handle bad news? Because no matter how positive I’m trying to stay, I’m waiting for a call that will tell me everything’s going to shit. I feel it in my gut.

How could we tell our families if I haven’t even told her everything that’s been going on with me and my heart lately? She deserves someone who’s not going to drag her down. She deserves someone who will lift her up. I don’t want this to send her back to where she was when she harmed herself. I don’t want her to hurt because of us.Because of me.

I slide into bed and pull Nellie to my chest, wrapping an arm around her. She shuffles until she’s nuzzled perfectly into me, and with her sleepy voice, she whispers, “I love you.” My body tenses, both afraid and relieved. Relieved because at least we both feel the same, but scared shitless that I will hurt her.

1 You’re perfect. You were made for me. My Nelly. My woman. My Love.

SEVENTEEN

TELL ME I’M WRONG

MientesTan Bien by Sin Bandera&Mean It by Gracie Abrams

Nellie

“Mmm,”I groan when rough hands touch my calves.

“You need to eat.” In between times awake and asleep, I hear Gus. His hands massage my calves and climb up to my thighs, but they don’t move higher, no matter how much I wiggle, trying to get him to touch me where I want.

“Nellie, you need to eat.” He chuckles and then laughs when I protest.

“What is this?” I open my eyes and see a tray of fruit, cold cuts, cheese, and different breads, plus iced coffee and a glass of water.

“Breakfast.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Where did it come from?”

“Delivery,” he replies.

“There’s delivery out here?” I askincredulously.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Now, eat.”

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