Shit!
“Brandon,” he murmured.
I tried to scramble off of him and out of his grip, but he really was strong. His hand tightened around my side as he leaned over my back, holding me against him. Elijah’s fingertip continued to lightly touch my scars and the wounds that were still in the process of healing.
“Brandon, relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Okay. I know. Can you let me up, please?” I asked.
“Yes, but don’t fall; let me help you.”
I felt incredibly embarrassed and exposed. And worst of all, I felt ashamed that he saw what I had done to myself. I slid off his lap and landed on my knees beside his left leg. As he shifted toward me in his seat, I could see the wet spot that my dick had left behind on the inside of his pants.Great. I looked down and smirked to myself. Of course, I was wearing light gray boxer briefs that showcased the damp spot like a beacon of light.
Eli put his hand on my shoulder, leaned over and tapped the inside of my right thigh. It was a silent gesture to get me to part my legs more. He wanted to see how sick I was. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as I watched his hand and fingertips touch the wounds and scars that he couldn’t see while I was across his lap. I swallowed hard and felt dizzy with uncertainty.
What was he going to do? Was he going to tell my mom? Was he going to have me admitted to a psych hospital? Was he going to refer me to another doctor? Was I too fucked up for him? Were we done being friends? Had I wrecked that?
I stared at the wet spot on his pants and hated myself. All of this because I fucking went down on a girl.
“How long have you been cutting yourself, Brandon?” he asked in a calm tone. Even though he sounded calm, I didn’t dare look in his eyes. I kept my eyes on the spot of pre-cum that I had left on his pants while my hands clutched the leg bands of my boxer briefs.
“Um, let’s see. About middle school, I think. Seventh grade,” I admitted.
He kept rubbing his fingertips over the damage I had done to myself. It oddly felt comforting, and I didn’t understand why it felt so good to me. What was wrong with me? Was I one of these fucked up people on TV?
“Are you mad at me?” I risked the question that was at the forefront of my mind.
“No, Brandon.”
“Are you going to tell my mom?”
“No, Brandon. You’re an adult now. I don’t need to report concerns about your safety. I am, however, concerned.”
I was relieved to hear that he wasn’t mad at me and that he wasn’t going to tell my mom. The next big question was whether or not he’d still continue to see me and be my friend.
“Are we still friends?”
“Of course, Brandon.”
I nodded and watched his fingers and thumb stroked the scarred flesh. I felt like I needed to say something, or try to explain, which was really hard to do because I didn’t really understand it myself. I only knew that it felt made me feel better.
“Do you think I’m sick in the head?” My voice shook when I spoke. I swallowed and paused to get my voice under control. “I don’t know why I do it, Eli.” I panted, trying to avoid my voice from cracking.
Eli’s hand tightened on my shoulder and tugged me closer to the couch as he parted his legs so that they were on either side of me. He moved the hand away from my cuts and wrapped me up in a hug. Overwhelmed by everything, I hid my face against his shirt. I was congested and opened my mouth so I could breathe better. It felt so good to be hugged like this.
“You cut because you hurt, Brandon. You have a lot of emotions built up, and the cutting gives you a release that rivals nothing else. I’m willing to bet that you cut after arguments with your mom, or when you’re trying to avoid them. Cutting helps you escape.”
Fuck, he was so right. I nodded against his chest. I reached out and wrapped my arms around Elijah and gripped the top of his shoulders. Now more than ever, I wanted to move in with him.
“When was the last time you cut yourself, Brandon?”
“Sunday night,” I mumbled against his shirt.
“Did you have an argument with your mom?”
I nodded.
“Did you cut yourself after the argument? Did you do it in a bathroom or your bedroom?”
