Page 3 of Sin With Me

I asked Waylon to cover for me with the evening chores at the retreat barn so I could go home. Told him I wasn’t feelin’ well and he didn’t ask any questions.

“What would he tell you if he knew you were strugglin’ right now?”

He’d probably wanna punch me in the face.

“He’d tell me to think about our parents and what it’d do to them seein’ me in the hospital again. How they’d worry. He’d remind me how scared he was last time and how losin’ his twin brother would destroy him. He’d beg me to get help.”

“You’re twins?” she asks.

“Yep. And the oldest of five kids.”

“Wow, so it sounds like you have a lot of people who love you and wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“You’d be correct.”

“So thinkin’ about them helped you stop last time?”

“Right, but it’s not always enough.” I blow out a shaky breath. “I already used the razor before I called you. But I stopped after the first cut.”

“Are you bleedin’, Luke?” The fear in her voice adds to my guilt. Without even knowing who she is, I hate hearing how concerned she sounds.

“No, ma’am. It stopped. But it’s why I’m in the tub, so I didn’t make a mess.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for havin’ the strength to stop when you did and for callin’ here. I know that couldn’t have been easy. But I need you to be straight with me. How many times have you cut tonight?”

“Just the one time, Delly. I promise,” I say sincerely.

She blows out a breath I don’t think she meant for me to hear because she quickly sucks in air to compose herself.

“Can you tell me why? Maybe we can talk it out.”

I’d rather hang up than say the words aloud, but I say them anyway. I’ve already admitted this much. Might as well keep going.

I tell her about the pain, the sadness that overcomes me, and the darkness that consumes my thoughts. And how I sometimes need the relief to quiet the vile thoughts in my head and that relief comes from cutting my thighs until they bleed down my legs because that’s when my mind clears. That’s when I focus on the physical pain instead of the mental pain and all the negative thoughts disappear.

“It’s a much-needed distraction from the depression, and even if it’s temporary, the physical pain is more bearable than the mental pain.”

And that barely scratches the surface.

“I’d like to say a prayer for you, Luke. Would that be okay?”

“Sure,” I say, although I haven’t prayed in years.

“It’s okay if it’s not your thing.” Her voice is soft and nonjudgmental.

Then I squeeze my eyes closed as she says her little prayer.

“I pray for your strength so you can remind yourself why you fight. I pray for the courage to seek help if you find yourself in this same position tonight. And I pray you feel worthy enough to get treatment because you deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks, Delly. I appreciate you takin’ time out of your night to speak with me. I’m sure you have a lot better things to do.”

“I volunteer at the church three evenings a week, so I assure you, it was no trouble.”

“Three times a week? Wow. Are you some kinda saint?” I half laugh because I haven’t been to church in years, even when my mom begs me to go.

“I enjoy helpin’ people,” she says without missing a beat. “And it was a pleasure to meet you even in these circumstances.”

Goddamn, she’s too sweet for her own good.