I Just Want It to Stop
(Sunday Afternoon, June 7th)
After there's a knock on the door, Ben looks up and watches as it slowly opens. His mother peeks inside, smiles at him, and opens the door further. Ben eyes from the cold cuts' platter to her, "What's this about?"
"You skipped lunch," her eyebrows raise.
Ben eyes off, "Yeah. I want to work. I can't work if my hands are dirty."
She sits across from him, setting the tray down, "It's just meat and cheese." Ben doesn't speak, and she sighs at the paper bag filled with cans on the floor, "You're stressed." Ben pulls the full can towards himself, protecting it with both hands, before he peers up at her. "Honey, you at least need to eat."
"I don't have to do anything." Ben mutters, "I can't do anything. He hates me, and I can't even ask why."
"Don't you have his number?"
Ben eyes off, "Yeah, but after my tenth or so text, his father texted back, saying that I'm not allowed to talk to Chad, and blocked his number."
Her eyebrows furrows, "That's peculiar. Did he explain himself?" Ben shakes his head, and she pulls out her cellphone. "Well, I'm putting a stop to that."
"Mother," Ben eyes widen with worry. "You don't need to."
She laughs, "You're starving yourself and drinking full liters of chemicals." before she finds his number. "Of course, I have to." Ben opens his mouth to excuse his behavior, but when she brings the phone to her ear and he hears the ringing, he stays silent.
"Queen Belle," Chad's dad answers.
"King Charming," she addresses. "I'd like to discuss why our children are no longer permitted to speak to each other."
After a minute, Ben hears him respond, "Yes, but we should talk about this in person. There's a lot I need to tell you."
"When and where?" she agrees.
"Your place tomorrow afternoon?" he suggests.
"Perfect," she smiles.
"Good. I will see you then."
"See you then," she says, before she lowers the phone.
Ben watches her end the call, "That's it?"
"It's better than nothing, isn't it?" she inquires.
"I just—" Ben lifts a hand, "I need to know what I did to make him leave like that."
"And you will," his mother reassures. She smiles, "But in the meantime." and pushes the platter an inch closer to him.
He narrows his eyes at the green frills, "You gave me leaves."
She eyes them, "Sorry about that. I think Mrs. Potts assumed everyone would be eating it when she initially prepared it."
"If only we had a rabbit." Ben thinks, "There's an idea. Why not give it to Aziz?"
"It's touching the meats and ham." Belle reminds him, "I don't think he can have it."
"I've caught him having pepperoni pizza," Ben bypasses. "I really don't think he'd care."
Her eyes widen, "He eats pepperoni?"
Ben's frown deepens, as he slowly says, "Don't tell his parents."
"It's not my place," she agrees.
"Thank you," Ben breathes.
"Here." She gathers the lettuce from the tray, "I shall have it."
"Thank you," Ben says again, before he examines the tray more thoroughly. "Those pink balls. Is that raw hamburger?"
"I think it's more of a German thing," she confirms. He darts his eyes from it to her, and she permits, "Why don't you try it?" Ben hesitates, reaching for the food as though it may bite him, and after he picks it up and brings it to his mouth, he slowly chews. "How is it?"
He lifts a shoulder. It's not as greasy as he expected, but it's cold and even though there's nothing to really chew, the tendons are still strung together, "It's not juicy."
"Well, that's because the blood is still inside the meat, honey."
Ben's eyes shift side to side, "Juice."
"Yes," she hangs onto the word. "The meat juice." Ben looks down, and she inquires, "Is there something else you would prefer?" Ben looks up, and he catches sight of a blue vein beneath her curly, shoulder-length hair. The sense of emptiness intensifies, as her cantaloupe scent fills the air. He slowly reaches for her hair, pushing it back and running a thumb over her soft neck. "Honey?"
Ben hears the denting, as he squeezes the metal can, and he looks down at it, "I need to be alone."
"Ben," she begins.
"I said go," he shouts, and after a moment she nods.
"Alright," she softly says, and Ben stares down at his hands wrapped around the can. "We'll see you at dinner." Ben clenches his teeth, not daring to do or say anything, and when the door shuts, he lets out a wheezing breath. He feels his eyes moisten and swallows the catch in his throat. There's a tightness in his pants, but he's thinking too much of it. It doesn't have to mean anything. This kind of thing happens to guys all the time, at least teenagers. This, it's just a coincidence. He squeezes the can even tighter, and then he feels it, the liquid escaping from the hole and leaking onto his skin.
After Ben calls for Mal to come in, he looks at the door open and sees her wearing a black robe. He sits up on the side of the bed, as he notices her dry hair, "You don't look like you took a bath."
Mal shuts the door, tilting her head as she walks up to him, eyeing at the ceiling, "Well, that's because I didn't." She smiles as she unties the robe, "You had a bad birthday, so I thought I could give you more than a drawing." and when it falls to the ground, Ben eyes over the black leather bra with translucent green fabric hanging from it. "Remember that outfit I told Evie not to make on my birthday?"
"Uh," Ben attempts to recall.
"It's fine," Mal immediately reassures. "You don't have to." She places a leg on either side of him, sits on his lap, and wraps her arms around him, "I thought now would be a good time to use it." Ben places his hands on her legs, and when he feels the interesting texture, he eyes down at the scars. He runs his thumb over the smooth, bumpy lines, and Mal comments, "If you don't like it, I can cover them."
"No." Ben meets her jade green eyes, his words halted. There's no good way to answer that question. If he says he likes them, she has no reason to stop. If he says he doesn't like them, then suddenly he's body shaming a rape victim. He wets his lips, "You don't need to." His hands run over the scars, and he looks down at them again. It's an enticing sensation, the cold, smooth waves of skin. The white lines are beautiful, really. He shifts his legs, taking a deep breath. Romanticizing depression, getting hard off it, he's sick.
"Ben?"
He sees her frown, "Uh." and he places his knuckles to his mouth as he gulps. Her scent is so overpoweringly sweet and smoky. "What, uh, were you thinking we would do?"
"Well, if you want," Mal offers, "I could give you a blowjob."
"I thought you didn't do that," his frown deepens.
"A condom would make it so you could feel it," she explains. "I got one from Jay."
His eyes narrow as he slowly asks, "Are you ready for that?"
Mal shrugs, "I want to try." and Ben's mouth opens as he glances down.
His heart beats faster, and he widens his eyes at her and shakes his head, "I'm not."
"Okay." Mal thinks as she runs her hands to his shoulders, "What do you want?"
He stares at her for a long moment, "I want to break up." and after he realizes what he'd said, he eyes down.
She half laughs, "What?"
Ben faces her, "I want to break up."
She nervously grins, "If this is about…" and she gestures around the space. "This. We don't need to do this. I don't need to wear this. Not if you don't like it."
"It's not about this," he whispers.
"Then what is it about?" He fails to speak. "Is this about Chad?"
He takes a moment, "I keep breaking my relationships. I keep using people and I don't see how I hurt them, and I break them."
"Ben." Mal shakes her head, "I'm not going to leave you. You don't need to be scared of that ever happening. Okay?"
"I can't keep doing this," he bypasses.
"Can't keep doing what?"
"All of it," he exasperates. "The sex. The blood. I'm tired of it."
"I don't understand," she slowly says. "You ask for that stuff all the time."
"No," Ben's voice raises, and he eyes down, shaking his head. His voice shakes, "I keep thinking it, but I don't want to." He faces her, and she sees the tears in his eyes. "When I'm with you, all I think about is sex and blood, and I don't want to think like that for anyone."
"Ben." Mal reasons, "I'm your girlfriend. You're allowed to think about me like that."
"But I don't want to," Ben shouts, before the tears leave his eyes and he whispers, "Mal. I just can't do this."
"We don't need to break up." Mal gets off him and steps back onto the floor in front of the pull-out couch, "We can just not have sex." Ben sadly chuckles. "What?"
"Nothing," he nearly smiles. "Just you and me being together and not doing sex things." He notices her expression, "It's just, what would we do?"
"Date," Mal asserts. "Normal people date when they're dating."
He eyes over her, "I can't be with you."
"Why not?" she questions in offense.
"I can't be around you," he corrects. "I… I smell you, and I want you. And I don't want to want anyone like that. I don't want to think like that, about those things."
"Then have me," Mal desperately responds, before she steps forward and reaches out to him. He grabs her hands, his jaw dropping, and he tries to keep them off him. "Have all of me," Mal cries. "I don't care."
"Mal," Ben grits his teeth, as he pushes her from him.
"Just have me," she sadly grins. "Please."
"I don't want you," his eyes widen, and when she turns around, he rubs his forehead. "Mal. Wait." Just as she reaches the door, she turns, and he faces her, "You know I still want you in my life, right? We can still talk. We can still be friends."
"I don't know how to be friends, Ben." She tears up, "I've never had any."
"Yes, you do," he denies.
"No, I don't," she shouts. "All I have is a brother, his friend, and…" She silences, letting out a long breath, "I don't have friends."
Ben opens his mouth, but then he remembers Lonnie called herself Mal's pet, "What about Evie?"
"I don't know what she is," Mal manages, "but she's not just some friend to me." Ben looks down, and Mal informs, "If I'm not dating you, we're not going to be happy. Okay, because we're not going to be friends. I don't know how to be just friends with anyone."
Ben stands from the bed, picks the robe up from the floor, and steadily walks towards her. "That's okay." He places the robe over her shoulders, and after she closes it, he meets her eyes and smiles, "I can teach you."
Mal watches as he shuts his eyes hard, and she hears his stomach roar. "Just not right now," she whispers.
"I need a minute," he pleads.
Mal nods, "Yeah." and after she steps out the door, Ben hurries to close it and slides his back down it. He sits on the floor with his knees up, and as he wraps his arms around them, he begins to cry. Mal hears him through the door, "Ben?"
He gulps, "I can still smell you."
She takes a moment, "How are we going to be friends if you can't even be around me?"
Ben looks up but shuts his eyes when his head bumps against the door, "I'll let you know when I know." She stays silent, and he turns towards her, "Mal?"
"Yeah?" she tears up before kneeling.
He opens his mouth before saying, "I need you to be happy."
She sadly laughs, "How can I be happy without you?"
Ben hesitates, "Evie."
"What?" Mal lets out.
"She loves you," Ben informs, "and I know you love her."
"Ben," Mal breathes.
"I want you to be happy," he asserts. "I don't care if you have to break the law to do it."
"You're sure?" she questions.
"I like Evie." He confirms, "If you can't be with me, I want you to be with her."
"You know, I can't get heat from her."
"You have Lonnie for that," Ben notes. "If that's not enough, you can go to Paradise." He pauses, taking a breath, attempting not to cry, "They can only give you guys, because of the law, but so long as you're cared for… I don't mind."
"Ben," she softly speaks. "It's not too late for us, if you changed your mind."
He takes a minute, "I just want to be me. I can't be me if these thoughts are all I think." and he nods. "I want this for you. I want this for us."
After a long silence, Mal inquires, "How much is that one place?"
"Paradise?" Ben tries to remember, "I think Chad said it was twenty dollars per person per hour." He looks at the door, "They have to do what you say. They can't hurt you."
"Good." Mal thinks, "That's… good."
"Something wrong?" Ben questions.
She shakes her head, "I don't know. It's just… you were mine." before she stares at the door. "You were mine."
"I know."
"I have people. I don't lose people," she realizes. "How am I supposed to lose you?"
"You won't," he reassures. "We're still friends."
"But you're not mine," Mal asserts. "And how am I supposed to have some random guy for an hour and then lose him too?" Ben shuts his eyes and brings a hand to his head. "I would have no one. I would just be left again and again."
"Have you been told… Did your, uh, therapist tell you that you have anything?"
"Anything?" Mal questions.
"An illness," Ben rewords. "Has she told you, you have a mental illness?"
"You think I have an illness," she disbelieves.
"You're scared of being left, you tried to scare me away," Ben lists, "and just now, you told me I could have you in a way you don't want me to, because you thought it would get me to stay with you."
"So?"
"Mal." Ben tries to remember the diagnosis, "I think you're borderline."
"I'm what?" she spats.
"The self-harm. Your total love or total hate of people. The way you see yourself," he explains, "it would all make sense."
"I self-harm, because I deserve it," Mal counters.
Ben looks off in annoyance, "You're proving my point for me." before he groans at the stabbing pain in his stomach.
"Ben?" Mal concerns, but he doesn't answer. "Ben," she says louder, and she puts a hand up to the door.
"I'm fine," he asserts.
"No. You're not." Mal tries to open the door, but he blocks it. "Ben," she angers, "let me help you."
"I can sleep it off," he excuses.
"Ben," she asserts.
"You still don't get it," Ben shouts, and she stops. He takes a deep breath, "If you are borderline, you will think this is about you. But it's not. This is about me. I love you. I do, but I don't like thinking about blood. You doing this, it goes… it's not what I want."
"Ben," she whispers.
"I don't want you to hurt yourself," Ben explains. "This isn't about you. You didn't do anything wrong, but I can't be around you right now." He eyes forward, "You have to go."
"At least let me get Carlos," she counters.
"Mal," Ben stresses. "I don't know how to tell you this so you will get it, but I don't want blood. I don't want to think about it."
"If you don't, you'll die," she seethes.
"I don't need it," Ben bypasses. "I'm human."
"No, you're not," Mal yells. "God, Ben. You have to know that by now." He doesn't speak, and she shakily breathes, "Ben. You think about it, because you need it. It's not some sick thought. If you don't have it, you will die."
He emotionlessly says, "Then I will die." and he hears her cry. "Mal. You didn't do anything wrong. This is my choice."
"But it is my fault," she stresses. "I made you forget. I'm why you're like this."
Ben takes a minute, "I'm this way, because this is me. You didn't do this to me."
"I wish I could believe that," she whispers.
Ben folds his arms over his stomach. It's as if his insides are being shoveled out. "Mal." He takes a breath, "I need you to go. If I sleep, the pain will go."
"Why can't you just eat?" she questions.
He thinks, "I want my life to be about more than blood." as he stares at the desk across the room. "I want to be me."
"Blood doesn't change you."
"But it does," Ben counters. "It makes me something I don't like, something that's not me." He pauses, "I feel like people don't see me. When I'm doing the things I hate so much, people think it's who I am… but it's not."
"I don't want you to die, Ben." she worries.
"I don't either." He hesitates, "I just want it to stop."