Page 153 of Accidental Husband
My family is supportive. Yeah, they don't get my taste in music or my inability to articulate my emotions or my feelings of displacement—it's weird walking around, looking like a father I've never met, a father who wants nothing to do with me, who has this entire culture I know nothing about.
I can't talk about that with them. They get defensive. Insist there's nothing to say, no reason to wonder. And maybe they're right. Mom and Dad love and support me. It shouldn't matter that my stepdad isn't my biological father. He's been there most of my life.
It's not like I have some horrible, traumatic event I'm trying to suppress. My life is normal. I lose friends, I get hurt, I study hard. Sometimes, I make the grade, sometimes I don't.
Like anyone.
I just… I don't know how to process all the stuff going through my head.
I'm not sure where I got the idea. I had friends who cut. I'd heard songs that made it seem like beautiful damage. I'd watched TV shows treat it like a dilemma for a very special episode. Something that could be solved in forty-five minutes flat.
If I wasn't so scared of sex and drugs, I might have tried that. But I knew I couldn't ask Griff for either. And I knew I couldn't find either without tipping him off.
No, it was more than that.
I didn't want anyone else involved.
I was so tired of other people's expectations.
I was always the model daughter, the perfect student, the excellent athlete.
It was too much fucking pressure.
Cutting was my only outlet.
For the first time in forever, I was in control.
There was something sublime about channeling every ugly thing inside me into a quick burst of pain.
Sometimes, it was the only way I could get through the day.
Sometimes, it was the only thing I had.
I knew I needed to stop. That I should have been journaling or jogging or drawing. But it was the only time I ever let go.
And that felt too fucking good.
It still does.
The elevator dings. The tall guy turns back to his drunk friend. He and the shorter guy help Drunkie into the hallway.
The shiny silver doors slide together.
Griff presses his palm into mine.
I suck a breath through my teeth.
I have to tell you something, Griff. I don't want you to be scared. Because it's not scary. It's not a big deal.
No. That's more bullshit. It's only going to make him mad.
If there's one thing Griffin hates, it's lies.
This…
Maybe he'll understand.
We're older. Wiser. More equipped to handle difficult situations.
