Chapter 3
Harvey
“So, how have things been, Harvey? Have you had a pleasant week?” My therapist’s smiling face filled the computer screen.
“It’s been okay. I went out for drinks last night after work. Some guy’s birthday.”
“Did you have a good time?”
Distracted, I gazed at the small image of myself in the top right of the screen. Fuck, I looked rough, but then, I’d been awake most of the night. I’d tossed and turned, the thought of what I’d almost done weighing heavy.
“Harvey?” Julie tilted her head, waiting for an answer.
“What? Oh, yeah, it was okay. I didn’t stay long.”
“And why was that? Weren’t you having a good time?”
I shook my head. I knew I should tell her what had happened.
Fuck, this was why I was in therapy, but something stopped me.
Did I want to tell her about Killian? After all, I may never see him again.
In fact, it was highly unlikely. I’d never go back to the bar.
It wasn’t my thing, so the chances of bumping into him were slim to non-existent.
“Did something happen?” After seeing her for four years, she could read me like a book.
I shook my head again, then nodded. “Yeah, something happened.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked softly. “You know this is a safe space, and you won’t ever be judged.”
After seeing Killian sing, and then the brief interaction with him outside the bar, emotions I’d fought to push away filled my head.
I’d stripped off the moment I got home, uncomfortable in my body, and headed straight to the bathroom, the temptation to cut so close to the surface.
My hand trembled as I clutched the blade, the cold metal kissing the skin on my thigh.
The confidence I used to have had deserted me.
I’d squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth, pressing harder, hissing at the sharp sting as the blade pierced my skin.
I opened my eyes and watched as a small bead of blood oozed from the cut and held my breath as pain turned to ecstasy.
The compulsion to carry on and cut deeper was strong, almost overpowering.
The agony would have been exquisite; I knew that.
The urge had overwhelmed me, but I’d fought it with every fibre of my being. I’d done it before, and I could do it again. I needed to be strong. This didn’t control me. I couldn’t let that happen again.
Finally, I dropped the blade. It fell to the floor with a clatter, and I let out a breath. Relieved.
I fell to my knees, my head over the toilet, and heaved, my skin hot and sweaty. Thankfully, it had only been a tiny nick, but it could have been so much worse. What would happen if I were confronted again? Next time, I might not be in as much control.
“I cut.” I dropped my head in shame.
“How bad, Harvey?”
“Small. You can barely see it,” I mumbled.
“That’s good that you stopped. Did you use the techniques we’ve talked about?”
I nodded again, but I’d been so close that it had taken time for the coping strategies to take hold.
“Do you want to tell me why?”
I looked down and picked at the skin around my fingernails, but it didn’t offer the same relief as a blade.
“Harvey, look at me.”
Reluctantly, I faced the screen.
“I met a man.” A man I found ridiculously attractive. “He spoke to me.”
“And what did you think about that? You speak to men at work and when you go shopping. What made this one different?”
All these fucking questions. It was as if I was being interrogated, but I knew she was only trying to help. We’d been through this so many times before, and each time, I tried to hide my shame.
“He was someone I liked,” I said, irked at her questions. It was her job to understand things, but that didn’t mean I wanted to answer.
“Tell me about him.”
“There’s not much to say. He was attractive.”
“Why did you feel the need to go home and cut?”
“You know why, Julie. It was the same as before.” I paused for a moment, figuring out what to say. Why was he different? What made me want to come home and cut myself?
“Harvey?”
“There was something about him. I can’t explain. When I see men I like…” I looked away from the screen. “When I see men I like, I don’t have a mad urge to cut. Often, it’s what I feel afterwards that causes me to do that. The shame that I’ve even looked at them. But that’s not happened in a while.”
I shook my head; emotions were hard.
“I know. You’re doing so well, Harvey. Keep going.”
“With him, it was different. The minute I saw him, I knew he wasn’t like anyone else.
He sang, and his voice called to something inside me.
Yes, he was good-looking, but it was more than that.
My reaction to him was instantaneous, intense.
I was under his spell, unable to look away.
His voice.” I placed my hand on my chest. “It touched my heart. The words of the song filled me with an emotion I can’t describe.
I didn’t want him to stop. He was singing about my life.
But more than that, it brought back memories of my parents dancing when I was a child. ”
“And how did that make you feel?”
“Sad. Happy. The memory was a happy one.”
“That’s good. And was it the memory that made you feel that way about him?”
“No, not at all. That was all him. I talked to him outside after I left the bar. He was outside smoking. We didn’t say much, really. He asked me whether I wanted to go for a drink. I said no, but I so wanted to. I wanted to sink into his arms. But I couldn’t. I’m so tired of being the way I am.”
God, I was so stupid.
“You’re not stupid, Harvey.”
Had I said that out loud?
“You know how to handle these emotions, proving repeatedly that you can. I’ve given you all the tools to do that.”
I fidgeted with the pen on the desk.
Click. Click. Click.
With most of the men I was attracted to, I could easily control the urges. Years of therapy, years of talking to Julie and those that came before her had helped me cope with the desire to punish myself.
“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say in a while,” Julie said. “It sounds like he made an impression on you, and I know this might seem like a step backwards, but it really isn’t. You’ve worked hard to get where you are, and the fact that you didn’t cut yourself more is a testament to that.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologise to me. You should be very proud of yourself. I know I am. Do you want to see him again?”
Did I? Part of me was yelling yes. The other, more cautious part of me was saying no, that it could only lead to something more. But why shouldn’t I listen to the yes? It was louder. Perhaps it really was time to step out of my comfort zone.
“I’m not sure. I’m scared of what will happen if I do.”
“I understand that, but playing devil’s advocate here, what if it’s good?”
“How will I know? Because that means, you know, putting myself out there. I’ve never done that before.”
“You won’t know until you try. Baby steps, though. Give it a go. You might surprise yourself.”
“Maybe. I’ll see how I feel.”
“Harvey, we’re coming to the end of our time together. I would love to talk more about him and his effect on you. We’ll pick it up next time. But how about you do something nice? Is there something small you can do at the end of our session? Concentrate on yourself. Can you do that for me, Harvey?”
I nodded. There was a movie I wanted to see. I could do that and told her so.
“I think that’s a great idea. Be kind to yourself, Harvey. You’re doing so well since I first spoke to you. So much progress. Your emotions aren’t shameful. Remember that.”
“I have been better,” I said. “This is the first slip-up I’ve had in a while.”
“It has, and you’ve shown that you can do it. That you’re in control.”
An idea flitted through my mind. A new tattoo, maybe. That always helped. No one saw the myriad of colours that covered my body. Tattoos ranged from a single word to an armful of art. It eased my mind when things became difficult.
“I have an idea,” I said, brightening a little.
“New ink?” She smiled. She knew me far too well.
I nodded. “Yes. Something simple, but meaningful.” The words of Killian’s song sprang to mind, and I knew it was the right thing.
“They usually are. I’m pleased for you. See? Even in this session, you’ve made progress. You can show me when it’s done.”
“I will.” I smiled, and this time, I meant it. The weight on my shoulders lifted, leaving me more content than I had been since last night.
We agreed to meet at the same time next week, and I promised to do something for myself and not dwell on last night’s events.
Easier said than done. Mum and Dad would turn in their graves if they knew what had happened to me since they’d died. First Dad, then Mum, and then Grandma thrown in for good measure. I’d lost all the influential people in my life in a short space of time. Who wouldn’t struggle?
But most of all was the overwhelming shame. Grandma had understood, but since her passing, I’d had no one to talk to. No one to tell me that what I felt was natural, that I wasn’t broken. I’d contemplated taking my life, but ultimately, I was too much of a fucking coward.
So, I cut. Sometimes so deep that I didn’t think the steady flow of blood would ever stop. It was then that I experienced the euphoria, as if I were floating, looking down on my body lying on the floor. Had I died, then? Who knew?
Not that anyone would notice if I disappeared off the face of the earth. I had no friends other than Ed at work, if you could even call him that.
I lived a sorrowful existence, but at least I lived, for what it was worth.
The movie didn’t start until later, so for the rest of the day, I pottered around in the house. I cleaned and tidied the kitchen, mopped the floor, and changed my bed. At least it took my mind off the man who had almost caused my downfall.