Scars. Part 18

"I've always told you that happiness was possible for you."

"But being told something is different from seeing it. I can believe it, now that I know about you-now that I've started to feel happy myself. But I didn't believe it was possible before."

Carolyn rubs her chin. "It sounds like I should have told you. I try to keep my personal life out of my therapy practice as a rule. But I see now that this is one piece of information that might have helped you. I just didn't want to make things strange between us. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

I love how Carolyn always hears me, even when I'm angry at her; I love how she can admit when she's wrong. I wish, as I always do, that she was my mother. But the pain isn't as strong this time. I know I'll find a way to keep seeing her, find the money to pay for my sessions. And I know that what she gives me is more powerful and less complicated than anything my mother ever could.

"My mom-" I hesitate. "My mom said that she and my dad are going to set up an appointment with you, to try to find out everything I haven't told them."

"Our sessions are confidential; you know that," Carolyn says. "Everything you say here goes no further."

"Even though they're paying you?"

"Even though they're paying me. The only time I would have to break confidentiality is if I thought you were a danger to yourself or to others."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Define danger."

Carolyn's eyes become watchful. "Well, if you were seriously thinking of killing yourself, for example. Or of chasing after your abuser with a gun."

"I would never do that!" I laugh.

"Or if you tried to hurt yourself."

"What do you mean, hurt myself? People hurt themselves all the time-smoking when they know it causes cancer, starving themselves to get thin, pus.h.i.+ng people away because they're too scared to get close ... . "

Carolyn nods. "Those are all forms of hurting oneself-especially anorexia. If I suspected you had an eating disorder, I'd have an obligation to tell your parents, since it can be lifethreatening. But I was thinking more along the lines of cutting, burning, head banging, that sort of thing."

"Oh, and then you'd have to tell my parents, huh? Therapist-client confidentiality just goes out the window?" I know I should shut up; I know I'm just making things worse, but I can't seem to stop the words from spilling out of me.

Shadows flick through my brain. "Everyone will betray you," his voice whispers. "Everyone but me."

"Is there something you want to tell me, Kendra?"

"No, there is not!" I stand up. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving. Getting out of here."

"Our session isn't up."

I walk to the door. "It is now."

31.

Carolyn gets up faster than I've ever seen her move before. "Kendra, I know you're upset, I know you're scared- but don't walk away. I want to help you."

"How?" I shout. "By telling my parents? By messing up my whole life?"

"Kendra, how have you hurt yourself?"

This is unraveling too fast. Just two days ago, no one even knew about my cutting. Now too many people know-or suspect. I feel like I'm backed up against a wall, hemmed in on all sides. I tense up, ready to run. "What makes you think I've hurt myself?" I ask.

"By how strongly you reacted," Carolyn says softly. "So what have you done?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I care about you, and I don't want to see you hurting this badly. You don't deserve the anger you're turning on yourself. Your abuser's the one who does."

I look down at my shoes. "That's kind of what Meghan said."

"She was right." Carolyn takes a step toward me and holds out her hand-the same one she's placed on my shoulder when I'm going through memories, to help bring me back; the hand that's held mine and helped me feel safe. "Why don't you show me what you've done?"

"Who says I've done anything?"

"I think you've told me in a hundred different ways today. I'm so sorry I didn't pick up on it sooner."

"This is not your fault! It's not anyone's fault!" I'm crying now. "No one gets it. Cutting helps me! It really does!"

"Cutting," Carolyn says softly. She takes a step closer, and I let her. "How does it help you?"

"It takes away the pain when I can't stand it any more. It helps me breathe. Helps me think." I glance at Carolyn. She's not freaking out, just looking sad. I rub my arm. "It stops the memories when nothing else will. And they've been bad lately. Really bad. I almost saw his face, Carolyn. And I can't let that happen. He'll kill me if I do."

"Oh, honey." Carolyn closes the distance between us and puts her arms around me, and I let her.

I feel so safe in her arms, like nothing can hurt me.

"He won't kill you. That's something he told you to keep you quiet. It's a common threat that pedophiles use."

"I don't think he's a regular pedophile," I say, looking up at her. "He wrote that note. And then he sent an MP3 telling me to keep silent-but his voice was wonky, digitized like a computer's. And then he sent me a package."

Carolyn's arms tighten around me.

"And he's been following me again."

"He's really trying to intimidate you."

"Yeah, well, it's working!"

"I know it's frightening," Carolyn says. "That's what he wants. He wants to scare you so much that you'll never reveal his name."

"There's something else," I say. I pull away. "He's the one who taught me to cut."

"He taught you?"

I tell her fast, the words jumbling over each other. "But I've been thinking about it. There's no way of knowing whether I'd have turned to cutting on my own if he hadn't taught me to. I could have; it does help me cope. So maybe I'm not just doing what he wants me to. Maybe I'm doing what I need to do."

"It's frightening to think he had that much control over you, isn't it?"

"Yes." I shudder.

"And as you said, there's no way to know. It sounds like it's very painful for you to even consider. But I think his teaching you must have predisposed you to cutting."

I bite my lip. "I don't want to talk about it."

"All right. We'll leave it for now. But will you let me see where you cut?"

"Why?" I take a step back.

"Because I care. And I'm concerned. I want to see it for myself."

"All right, all right." This is becoming a whole routine. I turn away, roll up my sleeve and unwind the gauze. I hesitate a moment, then tear the pads off. Then I turn back around so she can see.

Carolyn draws in her breath sharply. "Those should have had st.i.tches."

"Why?" I look at them. "It's not like I was going to bleed to death."

"Because you cut so deep, Kendra. And you are playing with death. Every time you cut yourself, every time you bleed, you're cutting through a vein."

"I've been cutting for six months, now-six months- and it's been okay!"

"Six months?" Carolyn blows out her breath. "That's a long time. I wish I'd known sooner. But Kendra-you are taking a chance. Cut through an artery or a major vein, and you could bleed to death before you could even call for help."

I clench my fists. I don't care! Nothing else makes the pain go away. Nothing else stops the shadows.

"You don't want to hear that, do you?"

"No!" Because I need cutting. I need it so bad. I can't look at her.

"I know you probably can't stop just like that." Carolyn snaps her fingers. "And I'm not asking you to; it's been helping you cope."

I look into her kind, worried eyes. She's on my side; I know she is.

"I just want you to try to do other things instead, if you can. Your body's been through so much abuse; it doesn't deserve to be punished more. You don't deserve this abuse, this repeated threat to your life."

I nod slowly. I don't want to die. But I don't know how to give up cutting, either.

"What did you use to do this?"

"A utility knife. Well, the blade from one."

"Can I see it?"

"How did you know I had it on me?"

"I didn't know for sure, but I suspected. Come on, Kendra. What can it hurt?"

I bend down and dig the blade out of my sock, then give it to her, my hand shaking. If she tries to take it away, I'll just buy another one or I'll find something else, anything that will cut with precision. I'm not going to stop cutting. I can't.

"Do you wash this before you use it?"

"No."

Carolyn hands the blade back to me.

I tuck it back into my sock, trying not to feel so exposed, trying not to feel the shame that's heating my face.

"I want you to wash the blade with soap and water beforehand. Wash your arm, too, if you think you're going to cut-if you absolutely can't avoid it." She goes back to looking at my arm, gently turning it over. Her fingers are cool and rea.s.suring against my hot skin. "These look infected. Did you put anything on them?"

"I poured some hydrogen peroxide on it yesterday."

"Hydrogen peroxide is good." Carolyn walks over to her bookshelf and pulls out a first aid kit, then brings it back to the couch. She sits down and motions for me to sit beside her. I do.

Carolyn takes out a tube and unscrews the cap. "You can also put anti-bacterial ointment on your wounds; it'll prevent infection." She globs some on my arm, spreading it lightly and holding her breath like she doesn't want to hurt me. "I want you to put some of this on every day, all right?"

"Okay." Somehow, I don't mind her telling me what to do. Part of me even likes it. It feels like something a good mom might do.

Carolyn screws the cap back on the tube and hands it to me. "I'm taking this seriously, Kendra, because it is serious. I want you safe. I want you to stay alive. And I don't want to see you hurt any more. You've been hurt too much already."

I stare down at my hands. She sounds so worried- so unhappy. I need the cutting-need it to get me through the pain. But some of the comfort's gone, now that I feel her worry for me-and her fear.

"We're going to work on some things you can do instead of hurting yourself-distraction, self-soothing, expressing your feelings. And if memories come flooding in on you, I want you to tell me, okay? We need to help you close them down when you're not here in session with me so you don't feel such a need to cut."

I nod.

Carolyn pats my knee. "I'm so glad you told me. Just remember that you can call me any time. We can talk things through. I'd rather you do that than cut." Carolyn picks up one of her business cards, and writes on it. "This is my cell. I don't give it to everyone. But I want you to use it if you think you're going to cut."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, of course not. I'm a little sad that you felt you needed to do this. And I'm sad that I didn't see it sooner. But I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me now."

"Are you going to have to tell my parents?"

"You know I will."

I rub my hands on my jeans. "When-?"

"As soon as you leave."

"But you won't tell them anything else, right?" I say. "You won't tell them about my memories or the MP3 player or anything else?"