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Caleb knew me better than anyone, he could tell when I was upset, angry, just not in a good mood in general, and he’d fix it, no matter how small or how hopeless I was. But I didn’t have his shoulder to lean on. He was busy on a mission, a mission that might’ve stressed him out more than I was stressed right now.
He’d be away for more than a few months, and it hurt the both of us. I wasn’t doing well. Not since a sudden relapse I had. I swore to myself that I’d stop. That I’d be okay and I wouldn’t ever go back to my old habits.
But old habits die hard.
Before Caleb was my boyfriend, when I was alone, with no family, I remember coming back to my apartment, that didn’t feel like home, it couldn’t ever feel like home when the ‘home’ I knew was gone, and so were the people who made the old house a safe haven. I remember trudging through my apartment, into the bathroom and slumped down on the wall, curling up into a ball, with my face pressed against my knee caps, and sobbing.
Caleb, my best friend I looked up to and loved so dearly, and my Gran, who raised the two of us in that tiny cottage we all shared, that was all gone. Caleb’s last words haunted me, and childhood memories of Caleb cuddling me or letting me sleep beside him, no matter how old I was, seeped through. He was always there to comfort me. And now he was dead. Gone.
I’ll always remember that day where I heard a tiny metal, cling and drop onto my tiled-bathroom. My tears stopped for a brief moment as I saw it. My shaving razor that broke into pieces and that I’ve not bothered to throw out.
The metal piece was now in my hands as my voice haunted me with intrusive thoughts, finally taking over as I slowly rolled up my blouse’s sleeve, angled the blade at the tip of its corner to barely scratch my skin before slice! And a hint of blood was now seeping through the clean slice I made. Suddenly, I couldn’t stop myself. I kept going, making my way from my upper arm, to the inside of my wrist. Letting that sting express my indescribable grief and mourn I was trapped in, I winced, holding back more of my weeping.
As I finally dropped the silver piece covered in my crimson red blood, with my eyes still glossy, I let the pain dance around, before begrudgingly getting up and crying once more, to sleep.
But Caleb came back. At least a part of home came back to me. It still wouldn’t make up for Granny and our old cottage, and it wouldn’t reverse the clock when that night I let my emotions and intrusive thoughts take over me and a new habit and coping mechanism formed. But as he became reappearing and being more present in my life again, I took the time to make sure each old scar though faded, yet visible, was concealed, and any new cuts were quickly tended to.
I couldn’t let Caleb, my best friend and boyfriend, see this side of me. I knew he’d understand where I was coming from, yet at the same time, he’d be disappointed, hell, maybe even heartbroken that I turned to this, instead of him. That he wasn’t an option in my coping. He was there for me, he knew me inside-out. And his comfort replaced the bittersweet feeling of pain I felt I deserved, and even grew to obsess over. As I moved in with him, I made sure to leave behind all the silver metal pieces. Because I knew, I had to change.
But his presence, embrace and words of affirmation weren't here with me right now, when I needed it desperately. He desperately tried to stay with me, but some missions were unavoidable for the colonel. I promised him that I’d be okay. I could tell he was skeptical by my words as he kissed me long and hard before he was drafted off onto an off-the-grid mission. I had no way of contacting him.
Even though I promised, I cursed at myself for swearing that I’d be fine. I was anything but fine now. I ran into Caleb’s bathroom, attached to his bed that felt empty as I slept in it.
It all felt so familiar, like Deja Vu. As I remember every single thing that unfolded again. My legs were tucked to my chest as I buried my face in my hands, crying loudly. It’s not like anyone could hear me, in the dark house, in the dark empty bathroom. As I sat inside the bathtub, I felt the cool metal rack supporting my heavy head when I accidentally leaned towards it. I flinched and glanced at all of Caleb’s and my shared shampoo bottles, body wash, and lo and behold, there it was.
I didn’t even think before snatching my razor, and disassembling it, like I was disassembling an airplane model. As I scatter each single piece on the bathtub floor, I search frantically for what I was searching for. And my hand trembles as I hold it up. I immediately fumble with my jacket, and buttoned up my blouse, undoing it until I was left in just my bra. I didn’t need the rolled up sleeves getting in my way.
I dig the blade into my soft skin. Dragging it along, creating a long, straight line across.
Caleb’s (Short pov)
I shouldn’t have left her. Not at all. I knew she wasn’t fine, she hadn’t been for quite a bit. Her eyes said it all. The past three months were rough, as I tried and patched things up as quickly as I could. It drove me up the walls to not be there for her, not even by text. I couldn’t smuggle my phone in, despite my longing too, just to see how my baby was. I barely spoke, my colonel side, as she’s playfully called it, switched onto autopilot as I silently worried about my girlfriend.
Something that I was most terrified of, is when I accidentally caught a glimpse of her taking off her jacket from the crack of the bathroom door she carelessly forgot to close. I was going to scare her and tease her, but as I saw the faint red line all parallel as they trailed down her beautiful arms, I froze. No… she couldn’t have possible. I quickly threw myself back onto our bed and squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to still be asleep as my mind raced, thinking of all possible explanations.
She couldn’t be, I sorted out all my girl’s problems. I was there for her. Maybe I was just seeing things wrong. Yeah, that was it. She literally had to force me to go to bed like a mother scolding her son to sleep. Because of the amount of sleep I got from being the Colonel. Except, was my lack of shut eye so bad I was wondering if my love was hurting herself?
I waited for them to reappear in front of my eyes. But she was sneaky. One day, faded scars would briefly show on her arms, or quite obvious coats of concealer smothered around her arms. And then the next day, it was her soft skin again. It drove me mad. I needed more proof. Until I found it.
As I was showering, I was trying to pump out the last of my, well, my girlfriend’s shampoo, and I lifted it up from the metal rack to unscrew the lid, where I saw the sharp piece of metal that was tucked underneath it. I was horrified.
I knew leaving her to her own antics wasn’t okay, but I wanted to trust her. Trust that she’d do her part in this relationship, and confess. I waited and waited, but it would never come. But I knew she still did it, from the times where she’d wear a full hoodie on a sweltering summer and be sweating buckets from it, insisting she was fine.
As the mission’s conflict was resolved, I left hurriedly, letting the commanders clean up the rest as I flew my way home. As we landed, I bolted to the parking lot, where my car was sitting, waiting for me and I stepped on the brakes. I missed my baby, and I needed consolation that she was safe, and if she wasn’t alright, that I’d patch the pieces up. I creaked the door open, hoping not to frighten her, but I could hear faint sobs echoing throughout the large mansion.
I followed the wails until I found myself at our bedroom, and into the half open bathroom door. It was her, no doubt. My heart sank as I gently pushed the door open.
MC’S (YOU) POV:
The pain felt so good, as the trail of blood oozed throughout my now decorated arms. But I still wailed. I swore this Final Cut would be the last, I tilted the rectangular piece of thin layer before.. His head, poked in.
I gasped, his jaw dropped as I saw his full uniform and blood-shot eyes, staring me down as I tucked myself into the bathtub. I immediately rose up, meeting his eye level, as his footsteps, that I was sure his leathered boots made louder, inched closer to me. I stepped out of the bathtub, awkwardly as my lip quivered.
His eyes were glossy with tears forming in his eyes as he reached out for my left arm. I didn’t pull back, he saw it all. Me in the act, with fresh cuts tattered all over my arms and their newest addition, my legs. He didn’t say anything so I blurted out.
“I-I was-“ but he dropped to his knees, as his gloved hands roamed and caressed around my legs. The touch I was longing for so much, but it was different.
“Please… tell me you have an explanation. For this?” He croaked out, finally finding his words. But I didn’t, not the explanation he was looking for. He stood up and just turned on his heel as he walked off, in disbelief and utter shock. I call after him.
“Wait, Caleb? Please baby, I can explain!” I call out, tears streaming down my face. But he doesn’t even flinch or even look my way as he makes his way downstairs. The light shower that was occurring way before this, escalated into a pouring thunderstorm. But Caleb didn’t care as he opened the front door. I ran after him, already soaked by the rain.
“Wait! Please! I can explain! Caleb!” I scream out and he finally turns back, actual tears streaming down his face with the rain drops.
“Explain what? What is this? You told me you’d be okay!” He roars out, and I try to blink back my tears. “I-I..I was going to tell you!” I hiccuped, my voice cracking.
“But you didn’t, instead I caught you in the act.” He flatly said, heartbroken. As we stood in our large driveway, we said nothing, and let the rain crash down on us to fill in our silence. Suddenly, a booming thunder sound came down and I flinch, before instinctively dropping onto the front door steps as I clenched my head.
I could feel Caleb’s demeanour shift from furious, to worried about me. He stepped in closer. “Hey, it’s okay, shh.” He reassured me, but I didn’t feel reassured. “You, yourself don’t think it’s okay!” I cry out. He bites his tongue, wishing he didn’t react like that. He bends down and effortlessly sweeps me up. My now wet bra cling onto his bulky coat as my bare legs wrapped around his waist and I wept, buried in the crook of his neck as he carried me inside, tracing patterns on my back.
He kept holding me as he walked back into the bathroom where he found me, and steered in the other direction of the tub and stopped at the separate shower. He turned it on and told me to stay put as he went to grab a change of clothes and towels. Still sniffling, I wasn’t entirely sure what Caleb was doing. But he peeled off the black, wet bra off of me and slipped off my shorts and underwear as he guided me to go inside. As we waited for the water to turn into a more warm, comfortable temperature, he carried me again until I sat, bare, on the bathroom counter.
As he pulled out the first aid kit, he was quiet until he asked one, singular thing.
“Why?” The whisper escaped his lips. I pursed my lips together before I found myself spilling when I started, how I started and why I did it again. He said nothing and didn’t even focus on my exposed skin, but just my fresh cuts as he gently dabbed it. Mumbling the occasional “sorry” when I winced in pain that I created.
“It turned into a habit because of how alone I felt.” I ended with.
“I was here.” He shakily tears up.
“You weren’t. I started this all up because you left me. I didn’t know how else to convey my emotions.” I croak out. And he stays silent before slowly taking off his heavy coat and stripping down, layer by layer before guiding me to the now warm shower, with my disinfected and patched up wounds. I could hear him sniffling as he held out his arms with a wobbly smile. I threw myself at him and embraced the heat radiating off his toned torso.
He pressed his lips against my forehead, repeatedly as I could hear his whimpers. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” He weakly whispers before cupping my face to steer my gaze at me. I nuzzle his palms and shudder with how much I needed his touch, his presence. I was touch-starved for too long.
As the hot water drizzled down our bodies, making us drenched again, his veiny, large arms circle around my waist. “Please pipsqueak, I want to be here for you, not for you to suffer alone, turning to things like this.” “I promise Caleb, I’ll tell you what’s on my mind. I love you.” He returns his vow of love with a soft kiss as one hand makes its way to firmly gripping my chin.
———
Old Habits die hard, but they’ll die one day. And I’ll have my number one supporter, cheering and supporting me along my battle. It’s been, as predicted, challenging for me. But my boyfriend made sure that the blades were out of reach like I begged him to do, and I was in his arms.
————
More than 45% of people self-harm in their life, and 50% of those people seek help. If you’re struggling, you aren’t alone. This story was mere angst and pure fiction, but coming from someone who is a survivor.
There is always a way out.