by TT Kove
Damian’s world had turned tits up.
This wasn’t about me any more, it was all about him now.
I had to calm myself. For him. I couldn’t fall apart when he was clearly on the edge. He’d always been here for me, supporting me, being patient with me.
It was my turn now. It had to be. I had to pay him back for everything I’d made him go through. All the shit, all the tantrums, all the paranoia, all the intense emotions always plaguing me.
I had to be strong. He needed me. For once in my life I needed to pull myself together, to be there for someone else. The past few years had been all about me—my entire life had been all about me, what with Andrew abusing me for as long as I could remember…
‘Shh.’ Damian rocked us gently. ‘Breathe, come on, deep breaths.’
It was a stuttering breath, but a breath nonetheless. Another one, just as shaky. A third, a fourth— I lost count, but I eventually calmed down enough to wrap my arms around him and hold on, hoping to give him my silent support and love.
Because I did love him. So much. I’d never loved anyone before, not before I met him. Thanks to me, we were always on a bit of a rocky ground, what with the smallest thing able to set me off… but I didn’t ever want to be without him. He was my rock, my everything, the only thing in my life that made me get out of bed in the morning.
I had to pull myself together and be strong for him.
I could do that, couldn’t I?
He stroked my back in big, soothing circles. It made me feel bad, because he was comforting me when I was the one who should be comforting him.
‘I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I never should’ve stayed there, not when I knew he was after me.’
He drew in a sharp breath. I heard it, but also felt his chest rising.
‘I’m sorry for not believing you.’
‘We’re sorry,’ Mum said quietly.
I couldn’t expect anything else. I knew what my disorder comprised, I’d read all about it, everywhere I could find information about it. Paranoia was a common symptom. So were my intense emotions.
Being borderline…
I hated it.
But I had to live with it.
Some people might get better, might not fit the criteria any more, but as for me… I didn’t think I’d ever get there. I was too messed up. And if it did happen, it would be years and years down the road.
‘I never should’ve said yes to staying with them. If I hadn’t, Ray’d be alive now.’
Damian’s soothing circles stopped for a second, before they started up again.
‘You can’t think like that, Joshua.’
‘How can I not? It’s true.’
‘I know it’s hard to hear—for both of you—but what happened, happened. Thinking what-ifs won’t change anything. Nothing at all.’
How could Mum be so calm and collected?
A person who’d been a major part of my life was dead! Killed by her ex-husband, who had been trying his best to kill me. Being a solicitor had its advantages, perhaps.
I pulled back from Damian so I could look him in the eye. He seemed knackered and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot.
‘I’m so sorry.’ I teared up again, but fought to keep it back.
He seemed to have the same problem.
‘He was gone and you were—’ He closed his eyes briefly. ‘You were hanging in there. They said we should prepare for the worst, Josh. The worst.’ Now there were tears, leaking slowly and trickling down his cheeks. ‘They didn’t think you’d make it. They expected brain death, or at the very least severe brain damage.’
‘I’m already brain damaged.’ It slipped out.
It was not the time to say that, though it was true. They said borderline personality disorder was a brain damage—it was like I had third-degree burns on my mind, because I had no skin to protect myself against the onslaught of emotion.
He swallowed again, whether because he was fighting tears or because he didn’t like what I said, I couldn’t tell.
He grabbed my arms, pulled me back in, and buried his face in the crook of my neck.
Now it was my turn to rub soothing circles over his back. It felt weird, doing it, because I’d never done it before. I’d never had to comfort him before. It had always been him comforting me. Always me needing comfort because I couldn’t handle being me and feeling what I was feeling.
Mum got up. I heard her heels clack on the floor, but when I turned my head to see what she was up to, she was already out the door. She’d left us alone.
‘What about Matt?’ What Silver said came back to me. ‘He found me… How’s he holding up?’
‘He’s not saying anything.’ Damian’s voice was muffled, teary. ‘Claire and Matilda are inconsolable, but Matt… nothing. I think maybe he’s in shock.’
Who wouldn’t be?
If he’d come home and found me, he must’ve first seen the cars. The cars that were wrecked and where his dad had died.
‘Did he die instantly? Ray… He didn’t suffer, did he?’ I hoped he hadn’t. That would make it even worse, because he was a kind, gentle person and he didn’t—hadn’t—deserved what happened to him.
Damian drew another stuttered breath.
‘No. Andrew’s car hit the driver’s side, yes. Ray was unconscious on impact, as far as I know. He died here in the hospital. Too much trauma, his body couldn’t handle it.’
‘Matt—did he find Ray too?’ God. Sixteen years old and experiencing this tragedy…
‘No. The ambulance had already gone by the time Matt came home. Only the police and the fire engines were left. Ray and Andrew had both been driven to hospital. Andrew wasn’t hurt much, so he was escorted right back to prison. But Matt saw the cars, and I reckon he knew exactly what waited him. The copper I talked to said Matt hurried into the house. He came out holding the dog and yelling for them to come get you.’
If any of us would need therapy after this, it was Matt. Right now I reckoned he needed it more than even I did. And I’d been going weekly to see my therapist for six years.
‘It’s not fair.’ I rested my cheek against the side of his head. ‘It’s so not fair.’
‘No,’ he agreed quietly. ‘It’s not fair.’
36
Damaged Mind
Josh
‘Why hasn’t Cooper been to see you?’ Damian levelled an unimpressed stare at me.
I shrugged. Looked down. Bit my lip.
‘Everyone else’s been here. Your family came up from Bristol to be here for you. They dropped everything and came up here the minute they found out what had happened.’ Damian turned away from me now. ‘They’re here, your mum and her girlfriend are here, Chloe’s here, all your friends… but Cooper. He’s strangely absent.’
‘Does he even know what happened?’ Had anyone spoken to him? I certainly hadn’t.
He was right though.
Everyone had been to see me. Even Claire had been here, though if it had been a brief visit. I couldn’t blame her, she was wrecked.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t told him. I should think he’d spoken to his own bloody family.’
It was bothering him that Cooper hadn’t been here. It didn’t bother me so much. Cooper was Cooper: unreliable, selfish, all about living life to the fullest without a care for anyone else.
He had his reasons. I couldn’t blame him. Not even for not visiting me, even though I could’ve died. Cooper wasn’t a fan of hospitals—and considering what he was struggling with, who could blame him?
‘Why do you just shrug it off? He’s your family. He should be here with the rest of them.’ He turned his head away.
I could tell he was getting emotional again. I couldn’t blame him for that. Since I found out yesterday, I’d tried not to think about it, because I couldn’t break down. I couldn’t make this about me. Because it wasn’t.
‘You can’t come here and tell me you’re fine with it. Everything that smacks of abandonment,
whatever small or imaginary part, is a major trigger for you, so don’t even try it with me.’
He was right.
I tried not to dwell on it though.
‘I know Cooper. I don’t expect anything from him… I doubt he even knows. He’s likely on a bender somewhere.’
‘He’s not just your family, Josh, he’s your friend.’
‘Yeah.’ Everyone was so hard on Cooper. They didn’t even know… and yet they judged. I didn’t—but then I knew. ‘It’s just the way it is.’
‘It’s selfish.’
‘I guess…’ I didn’t want to talk about Cooper.
A knock at the door saved me from it.
‘Hey.’ Chloe stuck her head inside, and when she saw it was just me and Damian, she stepped inside fully. ‘How are you feeling?’ It was directed at me.
‘Okay.’ I was, actually. Beaten, yes. Had a headache, yes. But I’d survived Andrew yet again, and it did feel good. He hadn’t managed to break me this time either.
Well, he had already broken me, but he hadn’t managed to shatter me. I still wished it would’ve been me instead of Ray… But life was unfair, so bloody unfair.
‘Good. That’s good.’ Chloe’s mascara was smudged, her eyes a bit bloodshot. She’d obviously been crying.
Seeing it made it so much harder for me to hold back.
Again, Josh, this is not about you.
That was easier said than done—because I loved them too.
‘We have to go.’ Chloe jerked her head towards the doorway. ‘Final preparations and all. Claire’s a mess. I reckon we have to do all the talking and organising.’
‘Yeah.’ Damian nodded once. He fumbled for my hand and squeezed tight once he found it. ‘I’ll see you later, okay?’
‘Oh-okay.’
Chloe made a small movement that I figured was a wave, then left with Damian. Damian pulled the door closed, but not all the way shut, so I watched their backs turn down the corridor.
I slid down in bed, unable to hold the tears back. They ran down my cheeks. The grief was so overwhelming I couldn’t even sob, couldn’t make a sound. Just the tears, wetting my cheeks, my chin, my pillow.
I’d never lost anyone before, not someone as close to me as Ray was to them. He was family to me now too, though not by blood as he’d been for Damian. Family by choice. I loved him. He’d been a part of my life almost as long as Damian had.
When a friend of mine had killed himself, jumped out in front of a car right in front of me, it had landed me in hospital. I hadn’t been able to deal with it. A month in hospital had made me feel better somewhat.
I liked to think I was doing better than I had been back then. I was, wasn’t I? I wasn’t screaming my head off, I wasn’t being dragged to hospital… I was in a hospital, but that was all Andrew’s fault.
It all came back to Andrew, every bloody time.
He hadn’t just ruined my life now, but a whole lot of other peoples’ lives too. Claire, Damian, Matilda, Matt, Chloe… Ray was their family by blood, he’d been a loving parent and guardian.
He’d accepted me.
Now I would never see him again. Never speak to him, never go over to dinner and find him there at the table or helping Claire in the kitchen.
I curled up on my side, hands over my face to try and stem the tears. I wanted them to stop, I really did, but at the same time it felt good to get it all out. I was so tired of crying, of being a mess, of never being able to pull myself together or figure myself out.
It’d been six years since Andrew had been removed from my life. Since the police had escorted him out of my hospital room. Three years since he was finally put away for good. No more appeals. Three years since the last time I’d had to go into every detail of my life, of what it had been like for as long as I could remember.
I’d thought he was out of my life for good. Yet he managed to come back into it—and he did this.
Why couldn’t he have been the one who died? No one deserved it better than him. He was a monster. A selfish, sadistic, perverted monster who got off on raping and hurting kids.
It was a wonder no one in prison had taken him out yet. It always happened on telly. A prisoner pulling a knife on another. Inmates killing inmates. Why couldn’t it have happened to him? I wanted him to die, not for Ray to be dead. It just wasn’t fair. Ray’d never done anything to deserve this, to deserve having Andrew rob him of his life. Rob two teenagers of their loving dad.
I hadn’t seen Matilda or Matt yet. Damian was with me as much as he could, what with being there for Claire and helping plan a funeral and dealing with whatever all of it entailed.
Chloe was staying with Claire, Matilda and Matt at the house. It must be horrible for them, worse than for anyone else.
Ray had been the love of Claire’s life. Matilda and Matt were still teenagers, still in school, and now they didn’t have a dad.
‘Joshua?’
Mum put her hand on my shaking shoulder.
I didn’t turn to face her. I couldn’t, not like this. So I just pressed my hands to my face, hoping to hide the tears and the blotchiness I knew they caused. I was too familiar with crying not to know what I looked like while I did it.
‘I can’t do this.’
Her fingers squeezed me.
‘You can’t do what?’
‘I can’t be strong.’
‘No one’s saying you have to be.’ The bed dipped slightly, telling me she’d sat down on the edge of it. She kept her hand on my shoulder.
‘This is Damian’s family. He should be allowed to lean on me for a change. But I just—I can’t!’
‘I don’t think he expects that of you, Joshua. Ignoring your emotions to be there for him… we all know that’s not you.’
It wasn’t at all.
‘You all know I’m an emotional wreck.’
‘We all know you feel emotions more intensely than we do. We can’t even imagine what it must be like for you, especially at this time, when we feel the grief so intensely ourselves. For you it must be three times as bad.’
My whole body hurt from the crying. The pillow was so wet it was soggy.
‘I want to be normal. I want to be able to have control of myself, to have some self-defence against this. I hate feeling out of control.’
‘I know.’ Mum sighed. ‘I know.’
‘I’m never going to get better.’ It hit me in the gut, so much so I curled up further, my knees almost pressed against my chest and stomach now.
‘You can’t know that. People do get better, even with borderline personality disorder.’
‘Emotionally unstable personality disorder,’ I shot in. ‘Fits better. Tells people exactly what it is they’re dealing with without them having to look it up.’
She sighed again, squeezed my shoulder again.
‘People do get better from it, Joshua. They go to therapy, they learn techniques to deal with it, learn to turn their thoughts around so they can calm themselves. People get better. Some so much that they don’t qualify as having borderline personality disorder anymore. It is possible. But it does take time.’
‘I’ve been in therapy for six years.’ How much longer could it take?
‘Six years, ten years, fifteen… It’s a long road.’
The sobs hit me, right where it already hurt, in my gut, squeezing my chest tight.
‘I c-can’t wait th-that long!’
‘I’m afraid you don’t have any other choice.’ Her hand travelled down to my upper arm, rubbing it. ‘And you know what? You are strong. You survive every day, every unstable emotion. You survive, Joshua, and that’s more than can be said for many others with your disorder. You’re strong—and we all appreciate that, we all know how you struggle. Not because we can empathise with it, because we have no idea what it’s like being you, but we see it. We see the struggle, we see how much you want to be there for and with Damian. We see that you do want to live.’
‘I just tried to k-kill myself. Well,
An-Andrew just tried to kill me, but b-before that—’
‘That’s the impulsivity. The most dangerous of your symptoms. But you survived that too, just like you did six years ago. You survive, Joshua, and for that you are so strong.’
I mulled over that.
It didn’t sound like me, being strong, but the rest of it…
Maybe she had a point. I always survived. I struggled every day—mostly every day—and I was still here, alive and breathing and healthy.
‘Do you think he’s going to leave me?’
‘Damian?’
‘Yeah.’
Another sigh, this one different from the ones earlier. This one was full of impatience with me.
‘No, I don’t think he will.’
‘But they need him now.’
‘They can have him without him having to leave you, you know. Just because someone else might depend on him now, doesn’t mean you can’t still do it too.’ She didn’t stop rubbing my arm. ‘I know these abandonment issues are also part of your disorder, but you need to get it inside your head that he’s not going to leave. I’m not going to leave. No one’s going to leave you. You’ll always have us, even when you hate us.’
My body shook as I drew in a deep breath.
‘I don’t hate anyone. Except for An-Andrew. He deserves it.’
‘I know he does. And I know you don’t hate any of us, but that black-and-white thinking… Staying positive as long as someone treats you nicely, gives you all their attention, but quickly switching to negative at perceived criticism or hurtfulness. The quick shift from idealising to devaluing, it can make it seem like it sometimes. And I know that for you, that doesn’t happen often, but it has happened. It’s part of the disorder, it’s not something you can control, but it can be stressful and hurtful to us too. We don’t mean to make that switch happen, but sometimes not even we, who’re closest to you… sometimes not even we can help it.’
Without even thinking my actions through, I turned over and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tight.
She stiffened, then awkwardly patted my back. She wasn’t good with affection, Mum, but she tried for me.
