Page 10 of Tortured Whispers
“I have plenty to hide,” I said, much quieter than the last time I spoke. Caesar didn’t flinch away from me because I was starting to fold in on myself. He didn’t frown at the way I spoke or my funny accent. He stood there, listening for me to speak.
I was used to my dad getting frustrated because I wouldn’t give him the answer he wanted right away and leaving me to my thoughts. Caesar didn’t do that. He waited patiently.
That’s what he was paid to do though, right? He was a psychologist. He got paid to listen to fucked up people like me.
“Like what?” He asked, closing the dishwasher. His long fingers pushed a couple of buttons that made the dishwasher panel light up then he leaned against the counter and eyed me.
He wanted to know what I had to hide.
Every cut scar on the underside of my forearm burned with shame. It was searing and I almost cried out from how uncomfortable it made me. My hand flew up to my mouth and I tugged the dampened bottom of my sleeve in between my lips.
Caesar swatted my hand away with a frustrated frown. “I’m annoying you too. I should probably go to my room,” I choked down the prickly feeling taking over my throat and stepped back. I didn’t know what the feeling was. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else.
I did know that I hated the thought of frustrating Caesar. Before he could speak, I darted out of the kitchen and down the hall to my room. I pushed the door closed and it clicked softly behind me.
Rogue tears, hot and salty, stormed down my cheeks. I just wanted to be normal. My soul ached with the desire to fit in. I know Caesar said everyone was fucked up, not just me but I’d give anything to be fucked up like a normal person.
At least they could speak without sounding ridiculous.
Thinking about how difficult it was for me to have a conversation made my stomach hurt. My head felt fuzzy too. Like…water was trickling back in.
I forgot that being around my uncle made me feel clear-headed. I forgot that quickly. Feeling like a normal person was such a deep craving, that I forgot I didn’t have the luxury of feeling normal all the time.
The thought of having a head free of water had my heart racing to go back into the kitchen with Cease. My feet wouldn’t move though. Blissful thoughts of standing in the light he radiated made my skin buzz.
I gritted my teeth together and went into the bathroom to start my shower. My showers only lasted ten minutes and I usually had to blast music to get through it. Although I hated being in the water, taking a shower was better than taking a bath. Being in a tub full of water reminded me of drowning and I hated it.
I washed my hair, scrubbed my face and looked down at my arms. Scars littered my olive skin, stretching up to the bend of my arm. I wonder what my uncle would say if he saw them.
I ran my fingers over the newest cuts and my stomach lurched.
Stupid Brooklyn.
So fucking stupid.
I destroyed my arms. They were marked up and ugly. I wanted to stop cutting so I didn’t cause any more damage but I couldn’t help myself. I went into a trance when I cut and couldn’t stop digging into my skin with razors.
Not every cut was deep. Some of them were only scratches that drew blood. I hated them all though.
I rushed through the rest of my shower and hurried out. When I was done, I sat on the bed with my towel tied around my body and tried to stop the water from taking over me. Thoughts of how annoyed Cease was with me wreaked havoc in my mind. He hated me. He thought I was stupid.
I put on a white Back to the Future t-shirt that used to belong to my dad, then I rubbed lavender and honey oil into my skin and rubbed coconut oil on my scars. I stared at the fresh, angry red cuts on my arm. They were jagged and not as clean as the ones I’d made with my razor.
Sometimes, it felt like I couldn’t even cut myself the right way. Water rapidly filled my head making my chest constrict. I needed to breathe.
**
Caesar…
Once I heard the shower in Brook’s room cut off, I waited a few moments before I knocked on her door. I saw the way she looked before she bolted away from me and out of the kitchen. She was embarrassed and god knows what kind of conclusions she’d jumped to in her head.
My fist hovered over her bedroom door, prepared to knock but I knew she wouldn’t answer. Against my better judgment, I knocked twice then walked in before she could lock me out. Brooklyn needed to open up more but I wasn’t trying to shrink her as my brother would say, so I was using tactics that I would never use on one of my patients.
She wasn’t one of my patients though.
When I walked in her room, the smell of lavender and honey filled my nose. I took a moment to inhale before my eyes found her. She looked up at me, and tears danced in her beautiful eyes. Worlds of sadness swam inside of her. She looked like she was drowning.
Fuck.
