Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Scar Tissue ❯ The Test ( Chapter 13 )

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Part 13

As I stepped out into the hallway, I stuffed the pamphlets Dr. Mitchell had given me into my pocket without looking at them. Sally passed me and stepped into the office again, closing the door behind her. Everyone else quickly stood and looked at me expectantly. I eyed the closed door warily before turning to face the others.

"Well, that didn't take too long, how did it go?" Quatre asked, trying to sound cheerful. It took every last shred of my willpower to keep my cheeky grin in place. I was feeling quite shaken from my time with the good doctor, but I couldn't let them know that. My mind scrambled for something to say.

"Oh, it went just fine. She's… nice. She wants me to have sessions three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday," It was all I could do not to grimace at that part. I didn't want to come back here, ever.

Hilde frowned slightly. "Really? So often? Did she say why? Is… is it that serious?"

I had the sudden realization that Hilde was very scared. She was scared for me. My heart ached, and my grin wavered for a moment. It was so unfair of me to be doing this to her. God, why did they have to find out about all this? Now, when it was too late? I had to shield them, all of them, from this whole damned mess. But I didn't know anymore if I could do it. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes with the doctor and I had fallen apart, admitted to cutting before. Already it stung that I had allowed that to happen. I shouldn't have told her that! But I still had to try to protect them.

"Apparently it's pretty standard for new patients, you know, get acquainted and all. No biggie. I told you guys, this is not a big deal. I probably won't even have to see her that long," Damn, I hated lying to them. I wasn't supposed to lie. But I realized then that lying to them wasn't really anything new. Hadn't I been lying to them every time I'd smiled when I wanted to cry, every time I'd laughed when I'd just wanted to scream?

She smiled a little, and seemed reassured. Thank God. Just then Sally stepped back through the door, her face unreadable.

"I guess that's it for today. We can head back to Quatre's. You're expected back here tomorrow at two, Duo," she said.

"I know," I said brightly, successfully fighting back the urge to snap at her. Did she think I was a child? So that was why she'd gone in to see the doctor again, to confirm when my sessions were.

The limo ride back to the Winner estate was uneventful. I chattered incessantly, as was expected under normal circumstances, though I have no idea what I said. I did notice, however, that Hilde, Quatre, and even Wufei were visibly relaxing little by little. I felt pretty certain that they were buying it. I didn't blame them, not really. It was easier for them to believe that I was the Duo Maxwell that they had always known. That the recent events that had brought us to that point were isolated incidents, well on their way to being taken care of. Sally, on the other hand, spent the ride staring out the window, her face grim, her mouth set in a firm line. Heero and Trowa were as unreadable as always. I had not idea what they were thinking.

When we arrived at the estate, Sally had a message waiting for her, so she left the room to deal with it. The rest of us went to the large living room. There was time to kill before dinner. I wanted nothing more than to retreat to my own room and sleep, but I couldn't. They would expect me to be happy, have energy. I had to keep the mask firmly in place. Besides, maybe a distraction would help.

"Hey, guys, why don't we watch a movie or something? I bet you've got lots of great movies, huh Quatre?" I asked cheerily.

Quatre smiled. "That's a great idea, Duo. I do have quite a lot of movie discs," He walked over to a huge cabinet set in the wall and opened it, revealing row after row of movies. "Why don't we have a look and see if we can find something everyone will enjoy?" Hilde, Trowa and I joined him at the cabinet and started examining the movie titles. Heero and Wufei, apparently not caring which movie we watched, seated themselves on one of the couches.

Sally reappeared. She did not look happy. "That was the clinic. They're really short-handed, so they couldn't give me any more time off. They need me there tomorrow, so I have to leave for L2 as soon as possible. I'll be back to see how Duo's doing as soon as I can, Saturday at the latest. Thank you for having me, Quatre."

Quatre nodded. "You're welcome, Sally. Thank you for everything. We'll look forward to seeing you again." The others voiced their agreement.

"Duo, could I speak with you alone for a moment before I leave?" Sally asked me. Inwardly I groaned. But outwardly I grinned and nodded. I left the others still perusing the movies as I followed Sally to her room. I felt guilty, but secretly I was very relieved to hear that Sally was leaving. It would be a lot easier to fool the others without her there, doubting my every word.

Once we stepped into her room, she went immediately to her medical bag and started to pull out rolls of gauze, surgical tape, and what looked like tubes of antibiotic cream. She spoke without looking at me.

"When I asked her about it Dr. Mitchell said that you refused to have your bandages changed at the hospital, that you said you could handle it yourself. You'll need these supplies. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to do it for you before I leave?" She finally turned to look at me, her face grim. She knew what the answer would be.

"No, no, that's okay. I can handle it," I replied.

"Fine," she sighed. She moved around the room, throwing the few things she had brought into her travel bag as she continued speaking. "The easiest way to clean up before putting the fresh bandages on would be to shower. I'm sure you're anxious to do that anyway. Make sure you use the antibiotic cream, you don't want to get an infection. Don't forget to change the bandages every day. And please ask for help if you need it." She was finished packing. She turned to look at me again, a strange look on her face. I realized that she was upset. Fuck, it seemed like I was having that effect on a lot of people lately.

"Everything's going to be okay, Sally." I tried to look reassuring. She gave me an incredulous look. The next thing I knew she had thrown her arms around me, though gently, being mindful of putting too much pressure on my arms. I was shocked. Sally had never hugged me before. The only person who had since… since the Maxwell Church was Hilde. I had playfully slung my arms around other people's shoulders, but no one except her had actually hugged me. Tentatively, I returned the embrace. She finally pulled back to look at me. Her face was full of concern.

"God, I wish I didn't have to go. Please Duo, talk to Dr. Mitchell, let her help you. And don't hide from the others, either. I think I can understand why you seem to be trying to deny that anything's wrong. You're embarrassed. But Duo, something is wrong. You can try to brush off what happened yesterday as `nothing', but it's obvious to me that it wasn't nothing. Maybe the others will believe it if you persist in denying that a problem exists, but only because they'd rather believe it than believe that you've been in such pain for so long without us knowing. Please, Duo, don't persist in denying the truth. Please let us help you, all of us. I'll be back by Saturday at the latest, okay?" she said.

Mutely, I nodded. I didn't know what to say. I felt shamed by her concern. I didn't deserve it. Hell, I was even glad she was leaving, since her concern was causing me trouble. I felt lower than dirt.

"And please don't hurt yourself anymore," she added softly. I just looked away, flushing furiously. She sighed.

We stopped at my room to drop off the med supplies she was leaving me before making our way back to the living room. I took the only available seat that was left, on the couch next to Heero. The others said their good-byes.

"Take care of him, guys," she said, and then she was gone. I struggled not to blush again, and just grinned goofily as the others looked at me.

"It's a shame Sally had to leave," Quatre remarked.

"Actually, I will have to leave in the morning as well. The foundation will be needing me back. But I can return on the weekend, to see how Duo is doing," Wufei said, shooting me a glance.

"You know guys, it's always great to see you all, but you don't have to rush back on my account. Why did you all feel the need to be here for this anyway? It's no big deal," I said, hoping I sounded casual. I really was confused as to why they all had shown up at Quatre's like this.

Hilde chuckled. "Well, that's a stupid question, Duo. We're you're friends and we care about you."

I grinned sheepishly, but I didn't think it'd been a stupid question. They hadn't shown such concern during the war. "Well, don't the rest of you have lives to get back to, like Sally and Wufei?" The less people actually hanging around here the better in my opinion.

"I can do most of my work for Winner Enterprises right here, and it's not like the office is far even if I do have to go in," Quatre replied.

"The circus is performing here on L4 for the next several weeks," Trowa added.

"I'm only doing a couple of courses right now, and I told my professors I would be missing some classes. They were very understanding. A lot of the course material is online anyway, and I can e-mail any assignments right to them," Hilde said.

"Things have been quiet lately. Barring an emergency, Noin can handle Relena's security for the foreseeable future," Heero said.

"Great," I said with a smile, my hopes of any more of them leaving dashed. This was going to be hell, with the four of them hanging around me all the time. "So, um, did you guys decide on a movie?" I asked, changing the subject.

We ended up watching a bland comedy from a couple of years before the war. Afterwards we ate dinner, roasted chicken that looked wonderful, though I had to choke it down since I had no appetite, and was still feeling slightly nauseous. But convincing the others that I was okay included a healthy appetite, so I ate. I also chattered incessantly through the meal, and was even gratified to get a few irritated glances from Wufei and Heero, just like the old days. Maybe this could work.

After dinner we returned to the living room, and this time I picked out a couple of old vampire movies from the 20th century, "The Lost Boys" and "Near Dark." Once again, I sat next to Heero on the couch. The movies were a couple of my favourites, and a welcome distraction. Particularly once I noticed that every now and then, Heero would shift in his seat, and each time he would end up ever so slightly closer to me. Finally, when we were well into the second movie, his knee actually touched mine. I tried to ignore it and concentrate on the shootout between the vampires and the cops that was playing out on the screen. He shifted a little closer. A blush started to creep into my cheeks, and I was suddenly very grateful that it was now evening and no one had bothered to turn on any lights, so the room was dark except for the glow from the television. What the hell was he doing? And why the hell was I blushing?

About ten minutes later, Heero shifted again, and his whole thigh was in contact with mine, our shoulders almost touching. Was he doing it on purpose? I couldn't see how he could possibly be doing it without meaning to. I had to consciously keep my muscles relaxed. He was making me very nervous! He'd never done anything like this before. Thankfully it wasn't long after that that the movie ended. As casually as possible I rose to my feet.

"Well, guys, I'm pretty bushed. I'm going to get a shower and go to bed. Good night!" I said brightly, then all-but fled up the stairs.

I sighed with relief when I was safely in my room. Heero had been freaking me out. And despite how nervous he'd been making me, I had kind of liked his thigh touching mine, which was even more confusing. I shook my head. I really was pretty tired, and I had to shower and change my bandages. It was best not to think about this crap right then.

I gathered the supplies Sally had left for me and went into the adjoining bathroom, making sure the door to Heero's room was locked, since we shared the bathroom. The last thing I wanted was Heero to walk in on me naked. Just the thought of it made me blush harder than ever, though my foremost concern was that he would see the extent of the damage.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The extent of the damage. I hadn't really seen it myself, at least not with a clear head. I'd still been fuzzy-headed from my hangover when I first woke up at my apartment. Then, at Sally's clinic, there had been the sedative she'd given me. I knew it was bad, but suddenly I didn't want to see just how bad. With more than just a little trepidation, I slowly removed my clothes until I was staring at myself in the mirror wearing only the gauze wrapped around my arms and thighs.

I swallowed hard, and with resignation started to pull on the tape holding the gauze onto my left arm. I wrinkled my nose at the resistance the adhesive gave before letting go of my skin and the fine hairs. Slowly I started to unwrap the gauze. Inch-by-inch my arm was revealed, until finally all the gauze had been removed. I stared, the food I'd forced myself to eat at dinner turning over uncomfortably in my stomach. I leaned back against the wall, suddenly feeling a bit faint. It was bad. Of course it was bad. I had known it would be bad. But it was still nauseating to actually see it. I was more grateful than ever that I was the one doing this, not Sally or some anonymous nurse at the hospital.

I took a deep breath and brought my arm up to examine it more closely. The freshest cut was the one on my wrist from yesterday, when I had… when I had been going to kill myself. God, was it really only yesterday that that had happened? There were more cuts, of course, from as recently as a couple of days ago on up to a couple of weeks ago, in various stages of healing. The more recent ones were still gunky and crusty, really rather disgusting looking. A lot of them were fairly deep and gaping, and Sally hadn't been able to steri-strip closed the older ones that had already started healing. I knew from experience that they would heal into thick, tough scars. Old scars, ranging from thin, barely noticeable faded lines to fresh, angry red slashes, criss-crossed the new cuts in a roadmap of pain. I couldn't wrap my mind around how many there were. And that I had done them all to myself. I knew that deep down, on some level, I felt a certain stirring of perverse glee that I had done this to myself. Like I was screaming hysterically at the world, `Look! Look how much pain I'm in!' God, I was fucked in the head. My chest ached, and it was hard to breathe. I blinked back moistness in my eyes. My mind was spinning.

I noticed a small patch on the back of my arm that was actually unlined, by either old scars or fresh cuts. My mind wandered to thinking about the scalpel I had stashed away in my room….

I blinked. What the…? I hadn't really just been thinking that, had I? I sat down hard on the closed lid of the toilet. I had. Fuck, I really had been thinking it. Literally seconds after contemplating the mess I'd made of my arms, and feeling all the disgust and self-loathing at what I'd done, I see an unmarked patch of skin and start imagining what it would feel like to run a blade through it. Like it was a blank canvas, just waiting for the blade. I held my head in my hands, rocking back and forth slightly and taking deep, measured breaths to keep from screaming or sobbing. It was then that I knew with dead certainty that no matter what Sally or anyone said, there was absolutely nothing that anyone could do for me. I was too screwed up to save. I didn't even deserve to be saved, so why bother trying?

I sat back, clenching my fists in front of me. I had to pull myself together. This was pointless! I stood and moving as quickly as I could, I removed the rest of the gauze from my other arm and my thighs. I carefully avoided looking at myself more than was absolutely necessary. I also chose to studiously ignore how much I was trembling, and how much I just wanted to curl up on the floor and bawl.

The shower helped a little. It had been days since I was really clean. The water stung my cuts, but I ignored that as well and concentrated on the hot water pounding down on my head as I washed my hair and body. I wished my soul could be cleansed so easily.

I stepped out of the shower reluctantly, and began the arduous process of re-bandaging my wounds. First carefully patting them dry, then applying the antibiotic cream, and finally rolling on the gauze and securing it with surgical tape. It was awkward doing each arm one-handed, but as I'd told Dr. Mitchell, I had lots of practice. I tried not to think about what I was doing, though. I mean really, one has to maintain a certain level of detachment when tending to nasty-looking injuries one has inflicted on oneself, or else said person will fall apart. I barely managed to repress the sob that threatened to break free at that thought.

Finally I was finished. I hurriedly cleaned up all the evidence of what I'd been doing, burying the old bandages deep in the trash can. As I straightened up from performing that task I accidentally made eye contact with myself in the mirror. For a moment, I was frozen. Then I quickly turned away, and just managed to lift the toilet lid before vomiting the entire contents of my stomach into the bowl.

After brushing my teeth I gathered up my clothes and went into my room. I put on a clean pair of boxers and a tank top that I retrieved from my bag. As I was folding my clothes to put them away, I found the pamphlets Dr. Mitchell had given me in my pocket. I rolled my eyes. I still couldn't believe she'd done something as lame as give me pamphlets to read. Who did she think she was, a high school guidance councilor? I sighed. I may as well have a look at them. She'd said she'd want to talk about them tomorrow.

I finished putting my clothes away and sat down on the bed. I looked at the first pamphlet, titled simply `Depression.' I sighed again and started to read. `Everyone feels sad or down at some point in their lives. But these feelings shouldn't go on for weeks or months. You shouldn't feel down or anxious and worried for no reason at all. If you've felt like this for some time, you may be suffering from depression. Millions of people do. Many don't even know it. Others are reluctant to discuss it. Depression is an illness like diabetes or asthma. It can happen to anyone. You may feel that you should be able to get out of it on your own. Don't. The earlier you seek help, the sooner you may begin feeling like yourself again. Your doctor understands and can help.' (1)

I resisted the urge to rip the paper into tiny shreds. I didn't like the way reading that had made me feel, like a cold knot of dread twisting in my chest. Why should a stupid pamphlet be doing that to me? I grit my teeth and continued reading. The rest of the pamphlet seemed to be some kind of checklist, `The Aurora Depression Self-Test.' The instructions for the eleven questions said that you should answer them based on how you had been feeling for the past two weeks, and that if you answered `yes' to five or more, then you were probably suffering from depression and should see a doctor. Pretty simple, huh? Except that I barely remembered the past two weeks. I figured I may as well take the test and answer based on how I'd been feeling for the past few years. It was all pretty much the same, only steadily increasing in intensity. I reached over and found a pencil in the nightstand drawer.

Okay, question one. `Have you been feeling sad, depressed or down most of the time?' Well, that was an understatement. Definitely a yes.

Question two. `Have you been less interested and less able to enjoy the things that once gave you pleasure?' I thought about that for a moment. It was true that over the months I'd had less and less energy to do things that I liked, like read or hang out with the others. I had actually used to like spending time with them, before it had just become too much of a drain, trying to act `normal' for them. Another yes.

Question three. `Have you felt tired or without energy most of the time?' Another understatement. I was tired all of the time. I never had energy for anything. Sometimes not even enough to get out of bed. Yes.

Question four. `Have you had trouble sleeping or do you sleep too much?' Both. Sometimes for weeks I'd barely be able to sleep a wink, and I'd just lie in bed staring at the ceiling for hours on end. Other times I might sleep twelve or fourteen hours at a stretch. Though I still usually had no energy, regardless of how much or how little I'd slept. Yes number four.

Question five. `Have you found it difficult to concentrate or make decisions?' I thought about that one, too. Near the end of the war it had been increasingly difficult to maintain my focus. I should probably count myself lucky that I hadn't ended up getting us all killed or done something stupid like blowing up some hospital or school instead of an OZ base. That was definitely an unpleasant thought. So another yes. Five questions in and I already had my five affirmative answers that said you probably had a problem. What a surprise.

Question six. `Have you had an increase or decrease in appetite or weight?' No question there. I had no appetite to speak of, and hadn't had one for months and months. I'd lost so much weight I was little more than a skeleton.

Question seven. `Have you had feelings of worthlessness or guilt?' I chuckled without humour. You could say that.

Question eight. `Have you felt frightened or panicky for no apparent reason at all?' That one was tricky. Did practically having a panic attack over how fucked you are count? I thought back to how reluctant I'd been over the past few months to even leave my apartment. How I could find myself becoming very tense the few times I'd had to go out for some reason. A sinking feeling in my stomach, I marked that one as a yes as well.

Question nine. `Have you felt restless and found it difficult to sit still?' Another definite yes. There had been times when I'd felt so restless that I'd thought I'd jump right out of my skin. It had been quite convenient when the others had been around. They'd mistaken it for me being energetic and lively, not agitated and fidgety.

Question ten. `Have you been feeling anxious or worried?' Christ, was I going to end up answering every question as a yes?

Question eleven. The last one. `Have you felt like you just cannot go on, or had thoughts of death or dying?' I stared at the word on the page. There was a special note that if you answered yes to that question, you should see a doctor no matter how you answered the other questions. Had I had thoughts of death or dying? My eyes strayed to my left wrist, where underneath the layers of gauze was the flesh and blood proof that I had. But there was no way I was marking that yes on the paper. I tossed the pamphlet on the floor without marking yes or no.

Eleven for eleven. When five meant you `probably' had a problem, what did eleven mean? Abandon all hope? It's not like I was surprised the thing said I was depressed. Anyone who needs a test to tell them they're depressed can't be all /that/ depressed! But eleven out of eleven? That cold knot of dread in my chest twisted tighter. It was just more proof that I was fucked beyond belief. I glanced at the other pamphlets. There was another one about depression, one about alcohol abuse, and one about self-injury. I eyed the last one curiously for a moment, but finally tossed all three of them on the floor with the first one. I didn't need to get into that right now, not with the way I was already feeling. I could look at them in the morning.

I reached up and flicked off the lamp, then climbed into bed. I was exhausted, but my mind was racing with so many thoughts that I knew that it would be a while before I fell asleep, if at all. And my chest just ached so much. It was not a feeling I was unfamiliar with. It was the awful, cold certainty that I was beyond help, that I would never feel any better than I did now. That there was, in fact, no reason to believe that things would not continue to get worse. It was the pain of being alive. I turned my face into the pillow, fighting back tears.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, startling me. I composed myself as best I could, and called out for whoever it was to come in, relieved that my voice didn't crack. The door opened a little, a shaft of light spilling into the room from the hallway. I rolled over on my back to look, and I could see the dark outline of someone poking their head into the room.

"Duo? We're all going to bed now. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" It was Heero. I swallowed hard before answering.

"No, Heero, I'm fine. Thanks. Good night."

I could see from his outline that he gave a curt nod. Then he seemed to hesitate in the doorway, like he wanted to say something else.

"Good night," he finally said, and closed the door.

I lay quietly for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. It was too much. It was all just too much. I turned over suddenly, curling up into a tight ball, trying to ease the pain in my chest, and let the tears come. I buried my face in the pillow to muffle the sound of my wracking sobs.

TBC

Taken from http://www.feelingblue.com, as is the rest of the information quoted from the pamphlet.