Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Scar Tissue ❯ Stopping ( Chapter 20 )

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Part 20

During the whole trip to the mall, I remained on auto-pilot, chatting with Hilde and Quatre. The others remained silent, consumed by their own thoughts. Even as I rambled on in idle chatter, part of me sat back and examined the situation. This was all so insane! How was it that I was sitting here, pretending everything was normal, when I had just been released from the hospital for my suicide attempt? My suicide attempt! I still could hardly believe it. Not even a week ago, I wouldn't have been able to imagine being around people who knew my darkest secrets, that I cut, that I was so consumed by pain that I was suicidal. But now here I was. Here we all were. And they knew.

I fiddled nervously with the hem of my sleeve while listening to Hilde talk about her college courses. I marveled that she was here, having not gone running and screaming when she'd found out how screwed up I was. None of them had. It just didn't make sense to me. I had expected disgust, condemnation, and worst of all, rejection. I had expected them to reject me, to want nothing more to do with me. It just didn't make sense! I reasoned that even after all that had happened, I still hadn't talked to any of them about how I felt. I still had every intention of avoiding that if possible. Their knowing was terrible enough, I didn't think I could handle opening my soul to them. They couldn't possibly understand how I felt. I surreptitiously looked around the limo, my eyes resting on each of them in turn for a few moments. No, they wouldn't understand. How could they? How could anyone truly understand if they hadn't been there themselves? That was probably why the rejection hadn't come yet. They still had no understanding of just how fucked up I was. They… they thought I was just sick or something, that they could help me and I would get better. But I had a horrible, sneaking suspicion that I wasn't just sick. There was something seriously wrong with me. I imperceptibly slouched a little lower in my seat. There wasn't anything they could do for me. Nor would they want to do anything, if they knew everything. It is a horrible, horrible feeling, to be surrounded by people yet feel utterly alone. I cannot exaggerate the sense of isolation that I felt.

We finally arrived at a huge mall. I already had a plan in mind. We hit a few fancy boutiques, and I agreed to let Quatre buy me a few fancy pairs of black pants and shirts. It wasn't that I couldn't afford them myself, but he insisted. It took great effort to maintain a casual attitude, acting like there was absolutely nothing unusual going on, but I think I pulled it off admirably. The others seemed eager to embrace a sense of normalcy as well. Who could blame them? Finally, we found ourselves in a huge discount department store, one of the type that sold a little of everything. I perked up a little for real. I knew I'd be able to find what I needed here. Now, if only I could slip away for just a moment….

We wandered around aimlessly for what seemed like an eternity. I started to get fidgety. Man, they were stuck to me like glue! How the hell was I supposed to get what I needed?

Suddenly there was a loud crash and a child started to wail. Everyone turned to look in the direction that it was coming from. I didn't miss a beat. I was gone the second their attention was elsewhere. Luckily we weren't too far from the right section of the store. I rushed down the aisles, weaving around people, my heart hammering in my chest. I wouldn't even let myself ponder the consequences if one of them should catch me doing this….

I skidded to a stop. I was in the right aisle. I quickly scanned the display, and in the blink of an eye, one of the packages of razor blades was gone from the shelf, tucked safely away in my shirt. It seemed that my skill as a thief hadn't faded with time. I felt profound relief, but I didn't let myself dwell on it. I couldn't let the others find me standing in front of a wall of razors and razor blades. When they did finally show up, Hilde's face frantic, they found me innocently perusing shampoo several aisles away.

"Where have you been?" Hilde exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. I played dumb, widening my eyes in surprise.

"What do you mean? I just need to get some shampoo and conditioner," I explained innocently. She stared at me in exasperation.

"Some kid knocked over a display and started to cry. When I turned back around you were gone!" she said.

"So? I'm right here! No big deal, right?" I smiled brightly. She shook her head, but she was smiling. Heero was glaring at me, but I was pretty certain it was out of irritation, not suspicion. I let myself relax a little more.

"I think we should head back to the house," Sally said, giving her watch a weary glance. I looked at my own and barely suppressed a groan. It was almost 1:00. Surely my 2:00 appointment with Dr. Mitchell was on Sally's mind.

"Yes, let's," Wufei sighed irritably. I had to grin at that. Apparently a couple of hours running around a shopping mall was more than he could bear. Though the idea of returning to Quatre's, and the prospect of everyone wanting to `talk', made me shudder, I nodded eagerly. I figured the best strategy was to act as normal as possible, and not like I was purposely avoiding anything. Right.

"Sure! Let's go back to the house. It looks like Wufei, at least, has had enough shopping. I'm sure he has to go practice his katas for a few hours until he feels `manly' again," I teased with a grin. Wufei fumed and opened his mouth to say something. But then the strangest thing happened. He snapped his mouth shut without uttering a sound, and then turned away, his face flushing. Flushing! I stared at him, dumbfounded. And then realization struck. Normally, Wufei would have responded to my teasing by telling me to go jump off a cliff or something. Perhaps now he thought I really might. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

Hilde was tapping my arm. "Don't you need shampoo and conditioner, Duo?" she asked.

"Oh. Right," I answered. I picked my usual brands off the shelf, and we went to the front of the store so I could pay for them. I suddenly thought of the razor blades again when we passed through the security panels at the front of the store, but no alarm sounded. I was scott-free. But somehow I didn't feel as relieved as I thought I would.

The limo ride back to the house was decidedly more subdued than the ride to the mall. I was unable to summon up much cheerfulness. Wufei's reaction was really getting to me. It was happening. They were treating me differently, thinking of me differently. Things would never be the same as they'd been before. How could they be? A small voice in the back of my mind wondered why that was such a bad thing. It's not like things had been great before. I had been miserable! And my friends hadn't cared enough to notice. But… but there had been… security in their not noticing, their not knowing. And now I wasn't safe anymore. I slumped, feeling the comforting weight of the package of razor blades hidden in my shirt.

Back at the house, I brought my new clothes up to my room. It was unreal, stepping into that room. It was exactly as I had left it. My backpack on the floor in the corner, the bed unmade. Even those damned pamphlets were still strewn about on the floor. I put the clothes away. Before shutting the dresser drawer, I took the package of razor blades from it's hiding place inside my shirt. I stared at it. It was innocuous enough. A black blisterpack containing a small white case, in which rested ten individually wrapped razor blades. Ten double-edged, deliciously sharp razor blades. I suddenly became aware that my hand was shaking. I quickly hid the package in the drawer and slammed it shut. Then I slammed my fist down on the dresser, feeling satisfaction when pain shot up through my wrist.

Damn, why had I stolen those razor blades? I couldn't seriously be planning on… on cutting again anytime soon, here, with everyone knowing, could I? Was I that fucked up? I swallowed hard. It was… it was true. I hated the way I was feeling, the way I was reacting to what happened with Wufei. And… I wanted to cut. I wanted to cut so badly. I pounded my fist again, my body trembling with the disgust I felt at my weakness. But I had stolen the blades before that. I had just wanted to have them. It was… comforting, somehow, knowing that they were here should I need them, even if I had every intention of resisting the urge to cut. I felt a surge or resentment. Why should I resist it? For fear of the others finding out? In many ways, they were the cause of the pain I was feeling in the first place, and now they were the reason I couldn't find relief. I tried to summon anger at Wufei over this most recent incident, but was unsuccessful. It was my fault, after all, that he would now find it awkward to yell at me. That he, and all the others, would now find it necessary to tread on eggshells around me. My chest ached so much. How is it that I found myself in this situation?

I was broken from my reverie by a sharp knock at the door. Before I even had a chance to respond, Sally opened the door. I felt a stab of unease.

"Duo, come down to the living room. We have to talk, and there's no postponing it this time," she announced firmly, then turned and walked away, leaving the door open for me to follow.

I sighed. What else was there for me to do? This was inevitable. They wanted to `talk'. Sally, undoubtedly, wanted me to go to my appointment with Dr. Mitchell. I swallowed hard. I felt incredibly strange, almost… discorporated or something. I stared longingly at the dresser drawer I had just shut. It was no mystery to me at that moment why I had stolen the blades. I needed them. Even if, in my head, I was vowing that I wouldn't cut anymore, not in this house, with everyone around, my heart knew otherwise. I pressed my lips firmly together, imagining the sensation of drawing a blade through my softly yielding skin. I needed it so much. But… the others were waiting. Down in the living room. I knew it would be the confrontation I dreaded. But what could I do? I sighed again. I couldn't exactly run and hide in this situation. I had to go down there. My heart heavy, I headed downstairs.

When I entered the living room, it was exactly as I feared. Everyone was there. I suddenly wished that the world would open up and swallow me. I wanted to be anywhere but in that room. Gingerly, I sat in one of the empty armchairs. The joviality of the shopping trip was completely gone, everyone's faces grim. Sally cleared her throat, and all gazes turned in her direction.

"Duo, you're appointment is in half an hour. Are you going?" she asked. I looked up in surprise. It was up to me? Did that mean that she wouldn't make me go?

"I… would rather not," I replied cautiously.

Sally pressed her lips into a thin line. "Can you tell me why?" she asked after a few moments.

I sighed. Why didn't I want to go see Dr. Mitchell? She was nice enough, but… but I knew she couldn't help me. I didn't know why I knew that. I just did.

"I… I just don't want to," I said lamely. Sally looked at me with an exasperated expression on her face.

"You don't want to? Duo, something has to be done here. You tried to kill yourself," she said. I winced. "You need treatment. How do you expect to get better if you don't try?"

I wanted to scream. `If I don't try?' God, what was I doing? Every day was a struggle. Every day for months and months. Years, even. What did she expect from me? I didn't know what to say to her. Luckily someone else spoke up.

"Well, what's the point of making him see a therapist he doesn't want to see?" Hilde asked.

"He has to see someone," Sally persisted. "He's sick. He needs help. The… the self-injury has to stop. And he's suicidal. We need the involvement of a professional!" I wanted to crawl away and die.

"A professional? Can't we help him to stop… to stop hurting himself?" Quatre spoke up. I wanted to disappear. I couldn't imagine a worse possible situation.

"We need a professional," Sally reiterated firmly. "This is a serious problem. Good intentions aren't good enough. If he's going to stop doing this to himself he needs help."

"But we're his friends. Can't we help him to stop?" Hilde asked. I wished I was as invisible as I felt.

"No. We need an impartial professional. We need to get him to stop doing this. It's obviously very destructive. A therapist will know how to handle it. Self-injury is… complicated. He needs help! More help than we can give him. This has to stop! You… you only got a glimpse of his scars. I saw them, all… all over his arms and legs… it has to stop!" Sally said. My face burned.

"But we're his friends! We just have to show him we love him. Why would he keep hurting himself after that? He doesn't need a `professional' to get him to stop, he just needs us," Quatre said. I closed my eyes.

"It's not as simple as that! All of you should look into this subject more deeply. Getting him to stop should be our top priority. He's hurting himself! Do you understand that? He has to stop doing this, now! That's why we need a professional. Someone who understands the problem and can help him to stop," Sally said firmly. I wanted to scream. It was all too much. I couldn't take them talking about me as if I wasn't there, as if I wasn't a real person. I was going to explode.

"But I don't want to stop!" I screamed.

Shocked silence reigned. Even I was shocked. I swallowed hard. It was true. It really was. I hated cutting. I hated how it made me feel, what it did to me. The helplessness it made me feel, the shame. I hated the scars that marred my skin. But at the same time, I loved cutting. I loved the way it made me feel, what it did to me. The control it made me feel, the relief. I loved the scars that marred my skin. They were mine. They were the tangible proof of the pain I was feeling. I didn't want to stop. Then I would have nothing, no control, no relief from the pain. I would be consumed. I stood and fled from the room.

TBC