Chapter 35 Sloane
SLOANE
PRESENT DAY…
Ifeel the bed dip, and I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. It’s what I’ve done all day. I feel horrible because all I want is to be wrapped safely in his arms, where nothing and no one can ever hurt me again.
I don’t deserve him. At least that’s what the monsters in my head keep telling me.
The music in my headphones pauses, he gently removes them from my head, and I just lie still.
“Hey, I know you’re not really asleep. You can keep pretending, if you want. You don’t have to listen to what I’m about to say, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” He pauses for a moment like he expects me to do something, to get a reaction of some sort, but he doesn’t. I just lay still.
“I don’t know what exactly is going on with you, and I don’t need you to tell me.
But I do want you to know that whatever it is, I want to fight it with you.
I’m worried about you, Sloane. I know there’s a lot going on inside that pretty little head of yours, and when you’re ready, I’ll be here.
Because I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my temple.
I squeeze my eyes tighter, and the tears fall harder.
“Mocha and I went to the store, and we picked you out a couple of things,” he whispers, but I still don’t turn.
He gets up off the bed, opens the door, and disappears for a few minutes. I hear Mocha’s little toes on the hardwood hallway as he runs. He jumps onto the bed and is actually surprisingly gentle as he forces his way into my arms.
Beckett’s footsteps follow, and the bed dips under his weight as he sits down, this time closer to me.
He places his hand on my back and gently rubs soothing circles on it. “The first thing is from Mocha. Here, bud, hand your present to Mommy.”
I let my eyes peek open as Mocha drops a little purple ball next to my face. When I look up at Mocha, his top lip is stuck up on his tooth, making him look like a derp. I force a sad smile onto my face as I reach for the ball and pull it into my chest.
“The next one is also from Mocha, because he wouldn’t part with it, just don’t squeak it or he goes crazy,” Beckett says, handing Mocha a second toy, this one gets dropped right on my head, a purple and pink little dog toy moose.
I gently pull it into my chest, holding both the ball and the little moose tightly in my arms.
“This last one is mostly from me, but Mocha wanted me to let you know that he also helped in the choosing of it,” he whispers, very gently rolling me so that I’m forced to face him.
I let him roll me while I keep the toys held tightly to my chest.
“Beck…” I whisper as I see the item he holds in his hands. A little purple bunny, one almost identical to the one I had as a kid, just much, much newer.
“You said that you had a stuffed bunny that you’d tell all your secrets to, and while I hope that I can one day be that person for you, here’s another little friend that can hopefully keep all your deepest secrets until you trust me enough to give them to me,” he whispers, holding out the little bunny.
I reach out for him, not the bunny, although the bunny is pretty cute.
He holds the bunny out to me, and I shake my head. “You,” I whisper, my voice shaky and barely audible.
He doesn’t hesitate to lie on top of me, and his weight is so comforting on top of my body.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to croak.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, you’re hurting, it’s ok to hurt.
I just wish I had noticed sooner,” he whispers, kissing my cheeks and rolling off of me, pulling me on top of him.
I let him throw me around like a rag doll, because honestly, I need to give up a little bit of control to someone safe.
“I know, but I feel bad. I made you cry,” I mumble.
“That’s because I care about you, baby. I don’t think you have any idea how scary last night was for me.
I’m so glad that you are ok, and that you are still here with me.
I’ve lost way too many people to their own heads, I don’t wanna lose you to.
I can’t help if you don’t open up,” he whispers, kissing my temple, and I bury my face into the side of his neck and nod.
“I don’t know how to talk about it.”
I’d told him about what my mom said and how she was acting yesterday in the truck before we got home, and I’ve been locked in our room since we walked through the door.
“That’s ok, you don’t have to know. There’s no script for what you have to say or how you have to feel. It’s your feelings, it’s ok if they don’t make sense. If you wanna start small, we can, or if you just wanna lie here for awhile, we can do that too.”
I don’t say anything, and he doesn’t push me to. I want to talk to him, to tell him how I’m feeling, about everything, the good and the bad. But I’m scared that I’ll only push him away.
So I stay quiet for several long minutes so I can figure out what to say to him.
“It’s heavy. My brain, all the thoughts, all the expectations that I put on myself, the feelings of doubt, the imposter syndrome I face every single day.
This new knowledge I have about Briar, and this Martin guy.
I’m alone, with no friends, and I’ll probably never know what that feels like to have any.
” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “I won’t ever know what it’s like to go to prom.
I’ll never know what it’s like to sneak out in the middle of the night to go see my friends, or to see a boy.
To go to a party, get so drunk, and giggle all the way home.
I don’t know what it’s like to have sleepovers and to gossip, to have a female companion that I tell my crushes to, who will watch chick flicks with me, or will just sit in my room with me all day watching Loops, because watching them together is better than watching them alone.
I’ll never know what it’s like to have a sister who does my hair on the night of homecoming, or a mom who takes me dress shopping.
To have a dad who’s proud to call me his kid.
I’ll never know what any of those things feel like, but you know what I do know?
” My voice cracks, and the tears leak from my eyes and wet his shirt.
He doesn’t say anything. I don’t even know if he can understand me at this point.
“I know what it’s like to cry myself to sleep every night because I was bullied all day at school.
I do know what it’s like to hate the way I look, but have no motivation to better myself.
I do know what it’s like to be called names and to be made fun of.
I know what it’s like to be the punchline of every single joke, and what it’s like to hate myself so much that the only way to make it all stop is to physically hurt myself.
I know what it’s like to want to die. I know what it’s like to stare blankly at myself in the mirror and just not feel anything.
I know how it feels to stare at a bottle of pills and know if I take them, that no one will ever miss me, will probably not even realize that I’m gone, will never ask where I went, and will never think about me ever again.
I knew all those things by the time I was sixteen years old.
I knew that the world would be a better place without me.
And I know what it’s like to almost let those thoughts win, did you know that? ” I whisper.
His grip on me tightens just a little bit, and I have to take a few breathes in order to calm myself down.
“I shouldn’t have cut myself, but in the moment, I was overwhelmed with the feeling of nothingness, and I needed to feel something, to remind myself that I’m human.
That I bleed, and ache. My mind went dark that day, but not in the way you think.
I didn’t want to kill myself, because for the first time in my life, I have someone who’s worth living for.
You…you make the world a little less heavy, Beckett Hayes.
I may have lost sixty pounds, moved away, and gained hundreds of thousands of supporters, but none of that makes me happy.
I could lose that all tomorrow, and I would be ok, but you…
God, if I lost you…I thought I knew what happiness was before I really met you, but it turns out I never did.
You are my happiness, you are my sunshine.
You make me want to be a better person. I think I’m falling for you, and I don’t think that I can stop it. ”
We both lay in the silence for several minutes, just letting my words sink in.
I feel a lot lighter now that I’ve said all of it, now that someone knows about the darkness and how I handle it. It’s not right, and I know that I need help. I probably should have never stopped seeing my therapist, and I realize that now.
“I’m pretty sure I’m already standing at the bottom of the cliff waiting to catch you when you do…” he whispers, brushing some hair out of my face and using his fingers to gently lift my chin so that I’m forced to look at him. “Because I’ve already fallen.”
He captures my lips in a soft kiss. For the first time in my life, I don’t have the urge to run. I’m exactly where I need to be. Beckett James Hayes is my home, and I’ve never been happier.