| Staring at Johnny with that dumbfounded look upon his face; I couldn’t hold back the tears that flooded my eyes. The look of understanding and hurt were slowly washing over his breathtaking, tanned face. His face was one of my greatest works. I drew that face countless times, but each one was… salient in comparison to the rest of my drawings. All of these months of finding sore spots on my hips, and my begging him not to hug me around my hips, he finally understood. Keeping this from him had hurt me more than the physical pain that I was feeling in that moment.
I suddenly remembered that night while I was reading about Angus Bethune and his adventure at the Winter Ball. “You’re the only person I’ve ever told…” (Athletic, 22) That’s the same feeling I had when Johnny found me at Daisy’s house in her bathroom. I had a smashed piece of a light bulb next to my hip. My hip had already begun to bleed, and he’d found me a little too late. He just stood there after he closed the door. His wonderful dark eyes burned a hole into mine. He understood, God love him, he understood.
Johnny quickly went and found Daisy, he told her that I had had an accident and I was bleeding. I was fine, but I needed some stuff to clean up with. Albeit her suspicion of the lie he had told to save my pride, she got some cleaning solution and band aids. Once Johnny helped me clean up, he took me home and we sat in my driveway for an hour in silence. Once he spoke, he told me that he felt like all of this was his fault; like he had not loved me enough. I insisted that it was not his fault. And, he finally asked me to promise him to not do that anymore. He just could not bare the thought of finding more scares after I let him see the older ones when he was cleaning the fresh one.
Maybe the fact that he had asked me to promise him instead of telling me to promise, made me do it. And, though it was hard, I kept my promise to him. Yeah, Johnny and I have some bad memories of being with each other, but that’s part of life; you screw up, and you get over it. I suppose growing up too quickly and not knowing how to deal with the pressure I was contending with made me cut. And, once I managed to get over being an over dramatic, petty teenager, I stopped feeling like I had to scar myself to ease pain that was not really there in the first place. Late my freshman year, I started doing very destructive things to myself that I really regret, and the night I mentioned above is no exception.
Johnny was the only one who knew about my cutting until the middle of my sophomore year. He understood how important it was to not push me to talk about my self mutilation, and I treasure that more than I think he or I understood at the time. Melissa and Angus shared a bond on that, just like Johnny and I did. It was such a relief to let him know what I had kept from him and everyone else for over a year. He had a similar problem, only his was a bit more… illicit. He didn’t cope with his pain and anger in a healthy way, just like I couldn’t. And, while I sometimes wish that I didn’t have to be around him, he cares about me, scars and all because he knows what the scars mean. Every discoloration from where those scars were reminds us of that bond that Johnny and I share. |
