CHAPTER 11: Because Chairs are Overrated

SPENCER'S POV:

I woke up earlier than everyone else again. However, I wasn't anxious anymore. I felt numb. I knew that what I had done was horrible, and I knew I really hurt my friends. However, I still felt empty, and lost.

I got up slowly and walked over to the kitchen and had a seat on the floor.

"Spence?" Emily muttered. "What are you doing?" I heard the catch in her voice, as panic slowly started to take over her thoughts.

"Just sitting." I replied.

I heard her sigh with relief, and guilt snagged my chest. How could I have done this to my friends? I shook my head. I didn't know…I didn't realize what consequences my actions had.

"What are you thinking about?" Emily asked. I hadn't realized she got up, because I was too busy beating myself up. She sat down next to me.

"Nothing." I muttered.

"Spencer, I know you. You were thinking about something. What's on your mind?"

I gulped, and took a deep breath. "I just…I feel so stupid, and so helpless. I don't know why I didn't know what I was doing when I….uh…" I felt lost for words.

"I get it. You didn't see the pain it would cause for other people too." Emily filled in for me.

"I guess." I shrugged. "I just…I feel so guilty…"

"Don't feel guilty Spencer. You had a huge turning point in your life happen so suddenly, and your mind sought out the first option to fix the problems. I just wish you had thought of talking to us first instead of hurting yourself." Emily sighed. "But what's done is done, so now we need to move on. And we'll do whatever we can to help you recover."

I nodded…but I was unsure. Could I recover? I didn't realize earlier, but I already was so dependent on my method of stress relief, so would I be able to stop?

"Spencer…what are you thinking about…" Emily poked me in the shoulder.

"I…I'm really glad you guys are here for me… but I don't know how I'm going to recover." I stated plainly. "I get so worked up about everything, and I can't show my anxiety around my family because they don't understand so I bottle it up. That's always worked for me, but when I started…this… I started feeling the need to do it all the time. Every time I got anxious, or angry, I would resort to this, unable to bottle it up anymore. I don't know how to stop…I don't think I can stop. I feel so free when I follow through with it. It's as if every time my skin breaks, the stress leaves me. It's so…painfully blissful, and relaxing, even though it shouldn't be so." I rambled. "I don't know…"

I looked over at Emily, who was staring at her feet.

"I'm sorry…you probably didn't want to hear that."

"No…it's fine." Emily muttered.

I moved closer to her. "What's wrong?"

Emily sighed. "I guess…I never thought about it that way. When I saw you…on that floor, bleeding, I first thought that you were going to die. But that never was your intention was it? You were just trying to calm yourself…"

I nodded. "I'm sorry for scaring you so much."

"It's okay. I understand you didn't mean to." Emily stated. "But Spencer…you can recover. Even if you don't think you can, you will. I know it. You're strong, and even if you've been weak lately, you're strong enough to bounce back. You're a Hastings." Emily smiled.

"Ugh… yeah. Don't remind me." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh come on, don't be that way." Emily nudged me with her hand.

We sat in silence for a while before Emily piped up.

"Would…would you mind if I looked? I just…I want to make sure you don't need stitches." Emily whispered.

"Oh….okay…" I cautiously held out my arm for her. She turned it over, and looked at all the angry red marks.

"Oh Spence…" She muttered, gently tracing the cuts with her fingertips. "Well I don't think you need stitches so that's good." She said after a while.

However…my mind was elsewhere.