Page 5 of Tortured Whispers
I sat on the floor, breathing in deep breaths. The water in my head muffled the music playing in the background. If I didn’t breathe soon I would drown.
My father’s footsteps disappeared and I moved into my bathroom. There, I found my precision point tweezers in the medicine cabinet. My fingers buzzed and my stomach tensed when I gripped the cool metal in my hands.
I preferred razor blades to cut with. They were quick and smooth but my tweezers would always be my favorite. I pushed the bathroom door closed with my slender hips and tugged my thumb free from the hole in my sleeve.
The moment I felt relief from the pressure of cutting my wrist I gasped. My head rolled along the bathroom door and a quiet groan escaped me. The red blood that dotted my sleeve made me hot with shame.
Why the fuck do you keep doing this shit, Brooklyn?
I shoved the recurring question from my head and fell into a trance where I dragged the tweezers over an unbroken patch of skin. I didn’t even need to see where I was cutting. I could do it by feel.
Once I came out of my fog, I swallowed the thick knot in my throat and washed the tweezers off before putting them back in the medicine cabinet. I blotted the blood on my arm with a baby wipe and pushed my thumb back through the hole in my sleeve.
**
“How was your first day?” Dad slid a paper plate over to me with warm banana bread on it. The smell made my stomach roar with want.
“Good,” I nodded.
“What happened that…bothered you?” His eyes probed mine for answers but he refused to come out and ask why I needed to cut so badly. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I filled my mouth with the sweet, soft bread and hummed happily.
My father gave up waiting for an answer and continued talking. “I have some exciting news,” he perked up a bit and smiled at me. He was so handsome.
“What?” I asked, swallowing the last bite of bread. I was definitely getting more. I’d carry the whole loaf to my room if I could.
“Uncle Caesar is coming back to LA. He’s gonna stay with us for a while until his house is ready but, he’s moving back to California for good this time,” he said with pride in his voice.
My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. I had no idea what to say. Being around new people made me nervous. It wasn’t that Uncle Caesar was new exactly but I didn’t see him often. Well, I didn’t see him at all actually. We talked on the phone sometimes for birthdays and holidays. Long enough for him to ask me how I was doing and how old I was then he’d always act shocked.
For the most part, all I knew of my uncle was what I heard from my dad. He was a big-time child psychologist in New York and people paid a shit ton of money to hear him speak and buy his books. He was like a god amongst nerds, I guess.
I used to pray for Uncle Caesar to help me like I heard about him helping all those other kids. I wanted him to help me not to drown so much. Not to cut so much. Not to be so…me.
Dad wasn’t having that shit though. He never said anything but I knew I embarrassed him. He had this successful little brother that helped kids all over the country every day. Kids that had real problems and obstacles to overcome. He didn’t want to let his brother know that he had one of those kids too. Plus it was against the rules for my uncle to see me as his patient anyway.
I forced a small smile for my father and nodded. “That’s good,” I said. I brought my sleeve up to my lips and pulled the damp material into my mouth so I could nibble on it.
The thought of having someone new in my home and in my space made my mind go all crazy. It started the vicious cycle that I loathed so much. I couldn’t process shit like a normal person. I replayed things over and over. They were scenarios in my mind that I was sure wouldn’t actually happen but…what if they did?
Instantly, the water was back. It was inky and suffocating. It dragged me back into a foggy trance where it was hard to breathe and even harder to speak.
“So, what do you think? It’ll be an adjustment but I’m sure once he’s been here for a little while you’ll get used to him.” I knew he wanted me to respond, so I nodded. I wonder if I nodded slower when I was underwater. “Brooklyn, you’re doing it again. You’re getting inside of your damn head and I can’t reach you when you’re like that.” Dad was in front of me, smoothing his big warm hand over my hair and kissing my forehead with an exasperated sigh.
I was draining him again. His eyes were so tired. I wanted to reach out and tell him it was nothing. That I’d get over it. I’d be lying though.
“Talk to me please, sweetheart. Tell me something going on inside of your mind,” he begged.
I had to give him something. My lips parted and I exhaled softly, trying to make the words in my mind come out of my mouth. It wasn’t that easy with speech apraxia though. Things got twisted on the way out. Especially when I was nervous.
“I’m new-vous,” I whispered, nibbling on my sleeve. My father nodded his head then I saw his gaze fall to the droplets of deep crimson on my sleeve from when I cut in the bathroom. I saw the heartbreak in his eyes and it gutted me. I hated myself.
“It’s okay to be nervous, Brooklyn. If you want to stay in your room when he gets here, he’ll understand. He’s a pretty cool guy.” Dad tried to swallow the broken pieces of his heart and ignore my sleeve but he excused himself shortly after I told him how I felt.
I pulled in a shaky breath, trying to fill my lungs then I went to my room and closed the door. I sat on the floor and inched closer to the old boombox hoping Hall and Oates could push away the itch to cut.
**
Caesar…
