Her eyes

Chapter 64

After my episode, Archer took us home. The next morning he asked if I wanted to book an emergency session with Linda. At first I had declined, I not only didn't want her to know about this because I was ashamed of what I had done, but also because of my less than stellar behavior last night.

But when I searched deeper inside of me, the feelings of my shame and guilt of how I treated Archer where still there. I had walked around with a familiar lump stuck in my throat all day, and even if he had forgiven me. I wanted to be better for him and for myself. I needed help because I knew this downward spiral would last longer than a day. And if I continued like this I might do something that I couldn't take back.

When I brought it up again over breakfast while avoiding Archers eyes, he only kissed my temple and took out his phone to make the call. He didn't make a big deal out of it and I loved him for it.

The session was set for during the late afternoon, I wanted him to go with me but I didn't know how to ask. It felt wrong to constantly have him help me through the hard times. To be strong for me when I had never been strong for him. I wasn't being fair, yet I couldn't help but want him there, I was selfish.

I was a selfish despicable person, I was no better than my mother. Always dragging people down with her, and leaving them there to rot in her darkness while she somehow always managed to climb into the light. The saying 'misery loves company' came to mind, and it made me sick to realize that the quote fit me well.

Archer and I's relationship could attest to that. I was ruining it and this was supposed to be the best months out of any relationship. The honeymoon phase they called it and I was rotting it from the inside.

I hated myself further with that realization, and to think I'd previously thought that we could be happy together. That I could make him happy, it was a fucking joke. I couldn't make anyone happy, not even myself. Especially not myself. Every time I thought that, something new popped up. All stemming from my own problems.

They were supposed to be my problems, not ours, and certainly not his. Despite the fact that he told me that we were in this together. It shouldn't have to be that way. He shouldn't have to constantly be worried about me. And now I'd added another layer of worry for him.

Deep down he probably thought that I was weird and disturbed for hurting myself. And was too nice to say it. I hadn't regretted doing it at the time, or afterwards, because I was so wrapped up in my own bubble of misery. I didn't think that anyone would get the chance to see them, because in truth I hadn't thought I would make it far enough to ever have a boyfriend.

I hadn't planned out my life like most people do, but one thing I was convinced off was that I wouldn't live to see my 19th birthday. After I left my house, I planned to live my life how I wanted for a year, experience new things and somehow the rest of my future was a black cavernous darkness. I couldn't see past my own feelings towards something better.

And now that I was here, I regretted leaving marks on my body for someone else to see. I hated that I regret the only thing that kept me alive. I hated that he in all likelihood thought that they were disgusting and unattractive. And the thing that I hated most was this deep fear inside of me that kept convincing me that this would be the final straw for him.

I kept telling myself that he would never do that to me, still the trepidation that he would look at me and not find me beautiful anymore was winning the battle.

"Are you done?" He asked, his hand by my side and ready to pick up my plate of mostly uneaten food.

"What?" I asked confused when coming out of my own thoughts. "Oh," I cleared my throat, "yes, thank you."