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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Skylar

“So, do I just have to, like, blurt it out?”

We’ve been sitting here in silence for twenty minutes. It’s not that Davis’s kickass health insurance doesn’t cover my therapy sessions, but I feel like we should have said something by now. It seems like a waste to just sit here and stare at my therapist while we could be making groundbreaking realizations or something. That’s what happens in therapy, right? You’re…fixed?

Sarah smiles kindly. “We can do this however you want, Skylar. It’s only your third visit. We can take as much time as you need.”

While that makes me feel better, there’s a nagging thought in the back of my head that wants more this time. The first meeting was just getting to know each other and laying out the things I wanted to explore during therapy. The second meeting was narrowing those down. Now is the time to talk about… it , right?

I gulp, trying to work up my nerve as I fidget with one of the toys she has set next to the couch. “I think I want to talk about it today.”

She raises her pencil and an eyebrow. “Can you be more specific?”

“The…”

My skin starts to itch. My heart pumps a little faster. My lungs don’t want to work. I?—

“Take a deep breath,” she soothes with infinite patience. “Remember, it’s not a dirty word. You’re allowed to say it.”

I nod jerkily. I can do this. This is why I wanted to come here. I want to grow as a person. I want to heal. I live a happy life, but there’s nothing wrong with discussing the things that still drag me down every now and then.

So, it’s with a deep breath that I finally let it out. “The cutting.”

“Good job, Skylar,” she praises. “So, you want to talk about the cutting?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Okay. Do you want me to ask questions, or do you want to talk about it?”

“Questions,” I rush out, figuring it’ll be easier.

“When did it start?”

“Um, middle school?” I think back to the first time. “That’s when everyone got really mean.”

She cocks her head. “Could you elaborate?”

“I’m…different, obviously,” I say through a laugh. “Cassius and I grew up in this small panhandle town, and there weren’t many kids like me.”

“Like…”

“Gay. Fabulously so. Out loud and proud. All of that.”

“Okay, and you were bullied?”

The taunts. The beatings. The way they made me feel so small.

Worthless.

Pathetic.

Freak.

It was horrible. All the kids in the town made me feel so small. They made me out to be this sideshow when all I wanted was to make friends. I would try, again and again, to form connections, but it’d never work. I’d put myself out there, only to be hurt and demeaned, until I felt terribly about myself.

I gulp. “Badly.”

“We don’t have to talk about the specifics,” she tells me gently.

“Could we save that for another day?” I ask.

“Of course.” She puts her pencil back on her pad. “Now, is that what led to the cutting?”

I shake my head. “Not really. Our foster mom…”

Was absolutely horrible. If those kids treated me like trash, she treated me like the shit she flushed every morning. Nothing I did was ever good enough. Nothing I wore was ever straight enough. She was so small-minded, such a weak woman, but I looked up to her because the mom I had didn’t want me.

But Gwen didn’t want me either.

She made it a point to tell me I was just a check, but I saw that she genuinely cared for some of my foster siblings.

Just not me.

Nobody ever cared about me but Cassius.

I let out a shaky breath and swallow roughly. Sarah smiles and tips her head at me. “Another day?”

“Yeah, another day,” I mumble, feeling like an utter failure. Sarah must have some magic therapy dust, because she holds up a hand to stop my thoughts in their tracks.

“Therapy isn’t magic. It takes time. All these things you want to discuss can happen in small doses.”

She did explain that during the first session. Apparently, therapy is different for each person. She insisted we didn’t have to deep-dive into my trauma right off the bat. I could tell her as much or as little as I wanted. That we could either do this a few times or for the foreseeable future. Basically, it’s up to me, and there’s something so…nice about that.

“That makes me feel better,” I admit, giving her a genuine smile.

She smiles back and gestures at her pad. “Do you still want to talk about the cutting?”

“I think so.” Even though it scares me to bring this up, I do want to do whatever I can to better myself. And, like I said, it’s time.

“We can stop at any time,” she reminds me. When I nod, she sits back. “I’ll let you take the lead then.”

“It started in middle school. I don’t even know why I thought about it, truthfully. I want to say that it was something dramatic, but it really wasn’t. I just kind of did it.”

That’s not the greatest explanation, but I don’t know what else to say. I just wanted to feel…something different other than terrified and humiliated. I wanted to feel in control. Maybe it’s different for others, but that’s how it was for me.

“And how did it make you feel?”

“Good? Bad? I’m not too sure.” I shrug. “It was just something I did to forget for a moment. Is that normal?”

“We’re not comparing experiences here,” she tells me. “Just speak your truth, and that’s what matters.”

I nod. “I did it once, and then every time I felt sad, I’d do it again. It’s almost like it became a habit.”

It was like a compulsion. My go-to. Whenever anything bad happened, I’d take it out on myself. I didn’t feel good enough, but at the same time, I felt like too much. Too gay. Too out there. But not smart or funny enough. So, it became something I just did. Again and again and again until my arms were littered with the scars, proof of what I perceived as a weakness.

“Did anyone know?” she asks.

“Cass did.”

“And?”

“He tried to get me to stop when it first started, but I just couldn’t. I had to do it.”

The first time Cassius saw the scars, he was heartbroken. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so sad, so miserable, so terrified. But he never looked at me with pity or disgust, only understanding. He’d plead with me, but I wouldn’t listen.

“Why did you stop?”

“We left the second we turned eighteen. Moved to Miami and put it all behind us.”

And that’s what it felt like. It was a breath of fresh air being away from the torture, away from the small-minded people we were raised with. Don’t get me wrong, there are sucky people everywhere, but here in Miami, there are more understanding and accepting people.

“Did you really put it all behind you?”

I pause and consider that. “I thought I did. I haven’t done it since.”

“I’m proud of you for that,” she says with a smile.

“Thank you. I’m proud of me too.” I’m genuine about that. I’ve really come a long way, but there are still some things I could work on.

“How do you think these experiences from your past are affecting your present?” she questions.

I wrinkle my nose. “What do you mean?”

“When we did your initial session, you said you wanted to move on from that past. I want you to try to think deeply about things that are or have happened in the last year that have been influenced by the way you grew up.”

I guess… I guess there are signs. Maybe some things that I do are influenced by it. I try to think about why I do things the way I do and what the things are that bother me. Before Cassius and I started our ‘build a boyfriend’ list, my biggest issue was keeping a guy. Not just keeping them, but them choosing me. I always went for the assholes who treated me like shit, and maybe that’s because I didn’t think I was worth much.

So, I tried my hardest to make people care about me. To be extra nice, extra cute, extra helpful. I chased the approval of guy after guy so that I could feel wanted. I blindly ignored the one person who’s always loved me in favor of seeking out those who didn’t really want me. Maybe it was to prove something to myself.

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

“I think I was really unfair to Cassius,” I admit. “He was always there for me, always wanted me, and I treated him like shit. I didn’t mean it, but that doesn’t take away the fact that I did.”

“I can understand where you’re coming from, but you didn’t know. You’re not malicious, Skylar. You wouldn’t have done all those things if you knew.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So, cut yourself some slack.”

“Okay, I can do that.” I nibble on my bottom lip as an idea comes to me. “I want to do something special for him. Just to show him how much I love and appreciate him. I think he needs that. He deserves that.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea.” She glances at the clock beside me and smiles softly. “We’re out of time today, unfortunately. Will I see you next week? Same time?”

I nod enthusiastically. Therapy is kind of freaking awesome. “Of course. Maybe we can talk about some other things, or I can tell you how it goes for me this week.”

“I’d like that.”

She bids me a goodbye, and I leave her office in a terrific mood. I know we might not have talked about everything today, but it feels like progress. Like I know myself a little bit better than I did when I first walked in today. I think that’s all that matters.

I think about Cassius and how he helped me get here by always reflecting my worth in his eyes. He was my anchor when I needed him, but I think, with some time, I might be able to stand on my own two feet.

But I want him at my side to walk alongside me.

So, I’m going to make that happen.