She is. I know she is. “Are you hurting yourself?”
“You need to leave.”
Yeah, that’s not happening. I walk forward and open the glass door until I’m standing in the shower with her, holding a towel out to her to cover up with. Though it will probably cover more than the outfit she’s been wearing all day. Focus. “Are you hurting yourself?” The towel is tugged out of my fingers.
“You won’t understand.”
How could I understand someone inflicting pain on themselves? My stomach turns at the thought of Fiona hurting herself. “Then help me to understand.” I would do anything to take the pain from her. “Hurt me.” I hold out my arm. “Hurt me instead of yourself.”
She starts sobbing harder than I thought possible for a person to cry.
I wrap my arms around her, letting her pour her pain into my body.
Something plastic clangs on the floor.
Never again. I’m never letting her go through something like this again. Lulu was wrong. I’m never letting her go through mental trauma like this again…Except Daria said this has happened before.
Fiona hurts herself…
Never again. This is the last time she hurts herself. We’re going to do whatever it takes, but I’m not letting her hurt herself anymore. That isn’t acceptable.
A long time later, Fiona lifts her head from my chest.
Not opening my eyes to look her in the face is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. But invading her privacy like that would be far worse.
“You’re wet.”
“Pretty hard not to get wet in the shower,tesoro mio.” I want to ask all the things, but I don’t want to push her back into a breakdown again.
“My blood is smeared everywhere.”
“New blood?” How bad is she? Should I get Mom? Take her to the ER?
“No. I had only gotten started. You and Dash seem to have a knack for distracting me at the wrong time.”
I knew that little man was part of our family, and that just solidifies it. “I love that little boy.”
“Me too.”
“We should keep him.” Why did I say that now? She just had a mental breakdown, and I added to her stress.
“I’d like that.”
What? “And we need to talk about what just happened.”
“Can we do it when I’m not dripping, and you aren’t covered in gooey blood?”
No.
No, I want to do it now. “We can. If you can promise me you won’t hurt yourself while I go change.”
“Max.”
“I will trust you.” Even though you never trust an addict. Fiona isn’t an addict. She’s struggling in pain right now.
“It’s not like that, but I promise I won’t hurt myself.”
Can I trust her? If this relationship is going to work, I need to. “Ok, I’ll be right back, and we’ll talk.” Not wanting to test her self-control, I race to my bedroom and change, strewing clothes around the room as I go.
