Chapter 3
Nightmares
Cat
I had been staying with Tori for a few days. Her parents were totally cool with it and I wasn't sure what she had said to not make them suspicious, but they hadn't asked me a single question. I knew that if she had told them the truth her dad would have interfered - being a cop and all. Whenever he was around I felt weird. It was a combination of jealousy because Tori had a nice father, and worry that he would find out what was going on at home somehow. If he ever looked at me I would avoid eye contact at all costs.
I was doing okay. Better than before. After that moment of weakness in the janitor's closet I made a silent promise to myself I would really try to get my act together. I hadn't cried since then, which was a huge step forward. It wasn't like I had been totally reformed again, I still felt broken apart. But it was like Tori was picking up the pieces and putting them back together. Too bad the shards were more like puzzle-pieces than not. It was going to be hard to make me whole again.
She had been acting differently but I couldn't quite place how. If I ever looked like I was about to cry or if my eyes even became a little bit glossy she would hold my hand until I went back to normal. I would sleep in her bed even though every night I offered to sleep on the floor or couch. I assumed it was because she felt guilty for not realizing something was up sooner. She was trying to make up for the pain I had to endure without her help. It didn't make much sense since it had been my fault for not telling anybody. I could sense her concern if I ever showed sadness - either by a voice cracking or a shaky exhale.
I was doing really well. Tori agreed with me if I ever brought it up. I hadn't had a nightmare in a long time. It was good because usually they made me cry. I didn't like crying because that was when I felt most weak and stupid. One time I had told her that I felt dumb when I shed tears and she told me that was ridiculous. Judging by her reaction I decided against telling her that I often felt like an idiot when I hurt myself, not knowing how she might respond. My self mutilation was a touchy topic, I could tell. If I was ever changing she would stare at my cuts but would look away when I caught her. I was surprised nobody noticed that I wore long-sleeve shirts every day in Los Angeles. Again it was probably because I seemed so happy to them 24/7.
If Jade ever said anything even remotely mean to me Tori would stare daggers at her for a good five minutes or so. Even though I knew that Jade was just kidding and being how she normally was, it was like Tori took it personally. Even though I considered it a bit uncalled for nobody else seemed to notice. I was flattered she cared so much. She had been acting differently ever since I confessed.
My no-nightmare streak was broken on Thursday. I can still vividly remember what I had dreamt about.
I went back home to get some of my things to bring back to Tori's. It looked like my parents weren't home, neither of the cars were in the driveway. I snuck in through a window on the first floor but I dreaded going up the stairs because they creaked. Even though I knew that they weren't home I didn't want to make any noise or leave any trace. After the fact I realized that was dumb, since I was going to be taking things from my room they would notice if investigated. But when I opened my door it wasn't what usually lay behind it.
All of my stuffed animals' bodies had been ripped to threads, hanging by their still intact heads by mere strings of their stuffing. Makeshift nooses had been tied around their fuzzy necks, dangling them from my ceiling. On the wall directly in front of my doorway words were spray-painted in black - my least favorite color: We don't want you back. That alone made me literally scream, backing away and unfortunately stumbling onto the floor. I nearly fell down the stairs. It was then that my dad showed up as if out of nowhere. I had fallen onto my back. He straddled my waist and struck me across the face, the entire time screaming about how his crumbling marriage was all my fault. He called me names, terrible names that I never would have called anyone. I screamed at him to stop in desperation but it didn't work and he hit me again. I squirmed beneath him and managed to break free but he shoved forward, the force successfully sending me down the stairs.
Each step amplified my agony to new levels. I felt my arms gaining new bruises and cuts. My pants tore. I yelped and shrieked, bleeding from so many different new wounds. When I finally reached the bottom I couldn't move and could barely see - having hit my head several times too. I couldn't tell if I was crying or not because my face felt numb. Spots appeared in my vision. I heard him coming down after me but it was very hard to decipher what the noise was. I felt his foot on my stomach and it knocked the wind out of me. He was calling me those names again, convincing me that I was the cause of all the family troubles. The evidence he presented me with made it sound all the more convincing. I suddenly felt the irresistible urge to cut but it was just a dream and I couldn't. I screamed, begging him to stop as he continued to beat me, kick my side or stomp my stomach. It was only when I lost consciousness in the dream that I returned to reality, panting spastically in terror.
Tori was asleep at my side. The room was darker than I would have liked. It just enhanced my fear. I put a hand on my chest to stop my heavy breathing. I became torn when I felt the tears in my eyes. Should I stay and be comforted by her while I wept, or should I leave the room and quench the irresistible urge to cut? I stared at my quaking hands, at the cuts that I hid behind thin fabric. I was pathetic. Even if it had just been a dream my dad had been right. I chose the latter decision.
Slowly I scooted off the bed, careful not to move it much so as not to wake her up. I shuffled to the door, my hand pressed firmly over my mouth in case I started crying again. I made my way silently to the kitchen. I didn't know where Tori kept her cutlery but eventually I found it after a long trial and error process. I slowly took out a serrated blade and walked into her bathroom. I locked the door for obvious reasons and proceeded towards the mirror. When I looked in it all I saw was garbage. My head hung low as my lip began to quiver, a tear rolling down my cheek, remembering all the names my dad called me. The knife found my wrist it seemed without me having to guide it. I felt it dig into my flesh and I let out a gasp of pain, until it became familiar. My eyes were clamped tightly shut.
My father was right about everything. The blade went in deeper, before drawing away and placing another cut a little higher than the previous one. I knew that these would be harder to conceal but that didn't stop me. I couldn't stop. After three cuts the knife made its way to my other hand without me even realizing it. I littered the other arm with new slices, all the while tears steadily rolling down my bruised cheek. The bruise had gotten a bit less noticeable but I could still see it, sticking out like a sore thumb on my complexion. My lip had healed by then but in the dreaded mirror, during my fit of self-hatred, I could see it again. I could hear my dad's voice in my ear, ridiculing me, taunting me. It urged me to hurt myself even more.
I managed to stop when I heard footsteps coming down the hall. It was then that the shame set in. That familiar, god awful shame. My cheeks turned the same color as my hair. I rinsed the blade off in her sink and stared, dumbfounded at my arms. When I was in a state like that I had no control over what I was doing. I watched as blood dripped out of the cuts and fell to the white floor, standing out greatly. Tears that made their way down my face joined the crimson liquid on the ground. The knife rolled from my hand and clattered to the floor audibly. I backed up and away from the door until I hit a wall, sinking down it until I was sitting there. My blood and tears made Tori's floor look slippery and unpleasant. The bathroom light made everything around me look sickly.
"Cat?" I heard a harsh whisper coming from the hall. I could tell that it was Tori. She would be so disappointed when she saw what I had done. I balled up a bit of my sleeve and bit down on it hard, muffling the sounds of my weeping. I watched as the doorknob turned. Obviously she was unable to open it because of the lock. I wasn't sure if I would have the strength to unlock it this time. She knocked on the door a few times, "Cat? You in there?" I wanted to be stronger for her. But I couldn't. It was literally impossible.
She was starting to get frantic. A very small part of me that still had control forced my body forward. I crawled on the blood splattered floor, further tainting it. The larger part of me that was still broken wanted me to just stay there and cry until I bled out. But I couldn't do that either. I wouldn't. I hovered at the door, my sobbing still muffled by my sleeve.
"Cat?! I'm not mad Cat, open the door, please!" She was twisting the doorknob back and forth but it obviously didn't do anything. I cried harder, accidentally emitting a small sound. Although it was relatively quiet it was easy to determine that it was from tears. I could basically feel her concerned eyes through the door, "Cat... please. Let me help..." My hand made its way to the lock without me even noticing it, flipping the deadbolt up and out of place. After realizing what I had done I backed away immediately until I hit the wall. Tori turned the knob and that time the door opened.
She stared at me with her mouth agape, my blood all over the floor and sink. She looked so sympathetic and concerned. Tori walked right in and straight towards me, getting her fuzzy slippers stained with blood. She too looked on the verge of tears. It made me feel terrible. All I caused was guilt or problems. The hatred of myself grew stronger as she got closer. When she knelt down at my side her look of pity made me wish I hadn't unlocked that door. I was absolutely bawling. Tori had closed the door behind her, probably not wanting to draw attention from her parents. She grabbed my hand to look at my arm but I pulled it away, shaking my head back and forth. She grasped it again and I didn't have the strength to tug it from her again. I watched her carefully.
"These are deep, Cat..." She told me, her voice weak and unsteady. I didn't want her to cry. How could I comfort her? I wouldn't know how. Not when I was so desperately yearning to be comforted, even though I couldn't admit that right then. When Tori released her grip on my wrist, I let it fall limply to my side. Blood still seeped from the cuts. I watched as she went to the drawers around her sink, fumbling, clearly having a hard time finding something that would help. Eventually she returned with some bandages. She started wrapping them around my arm.
Her touch was soft. Compassionate. Relaxing. Her brown eyes were focussed on her task while I couldn't tear my gaze away from her. It was strange. I had never felt that way before. Whenever I was with boys it didn't last long. I either got scared about them meeting my parents or they never did and would get offended, breaking up with me first. This was different. The other times had just been one time things and it was always based on looks when it came to me. My relationships never lasted long enough for me to actually get to know the person. Right when I started to feel something even slightly similar to that - it ended. My mouth hung open in surprise.
I liked Tori.
She was so pretty. Beautiful, really. Was I a lesbian? Or bi? For some reason that didn't surprise me as much as it should have. I had never had a real relationship with a guy before because it never worked out. She continued to bandage my arm, not once meeting my eyes. I wondered if she felt the same way but at the state I was in I doubted it. Since I personally hated myself so much it seemed practically impossible for anybody to think positively about me. Her lips were flattened into a straight line, her brow creased. I felt an urge that I had never felt before, a unique lust that nearly couldn't be contained. If I hadn't been so broken I might have been unable to resist.
She finished one of my arms and moved to the next one, the entire time not speaking the word. I could tell that she did the first one carefully - making the bandages as thin as possible so they wouldn't bulge beneath my clothes. I opened my mouth to try and thank her. It was then that I realized I had stopped crying. Only she could do that. Usually my tears lasted for hours. Not when she was around.
"What made you cut...?" She hesitantly spoke. The terrible, looming feelings came back all over again. Although I didn't want to say it aloud because it would make me cry all over again, I didn't just want to ignore her. And she sounded concerned. And after the realization of my feelings I desperately didn't want to upset her.
"I had a nightmare..." I wanted comfort. I wanted her. Even though I knew for sure she didn't like me that way, I found myself moving closer to her face, slowly but surely, "...it was bad." She finished bandaging my other arm, and by that time I had gotten noticeably closer. We locked eyes. I saw something different in them, something I had never seen in anybody's eyes before. I couldn't define it. Even with her tired and worried expression she looked angelic.
"I'm..." She was breathless. Our breathing became heavy and it mixed between the space between us. I felt something. Maybe my feelings were mutual? It was then that I felt suddenly nervous. I didn't want to make our friendship weird if I planned on staying at her house. I scooted away but it took more effort than anything I had ever done. She seemed unmoved by it, "...I'm sorry..."
Tori finally finished bandaging both arms and she led me back to her room. It took all of my willpower not to hold onto her through the night, but I did find her hand beneath the covers. She didn't once let it go.
