It’s been a few days. After that morning, I decided I’ll give Derek, or Benlyam, another chance. It wasn’t easy but I was trying my best to be normal with him and not let my past creep in too much.
He’d eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner with me, he wanted to make sure I ate. I still wasn’t eating as much, but he was content with me trying. It seemed he was getting a result out of it because I gained six pounds in that time. He was beaming with joy when we got home after Reseda did a check-up.
I started writing in the diary, my handwriting wasn’t too great, but I could read it. I’ve written only a few times with Chris and I vaguely remember writing when I was small. My mother- the small memory I have of her- taught me how to read and write, but I guess it didn’t go far.
We were sleeping together- not sexually, just comfortably. He wore a shirt to bed, although all the time he was with me, he slept shirtless. Sage convinced herself that it was because of us, but I dismissed that myself.
There was one night I had a nightmare. It wasn’t too great, the opposite by a large divider. I was a mess, I kept hitting him, blinded by my trauma that Chris was in front of me and not my mate. I stayed up for the remainder of the night, Benlyam stayed up with me.
I started to call him by his first name- at first, he tensed up, and when I said I wouldn’t say it, he said it was fine and he just wasn’t used to it. I continued to call him. Although I would go back to ‘Derek’ when we were out in public, and he seemed conflicted at it, I felt it.
He was grateful but pissy that I didn’t want to call me his name- establishing he was mine. He’d walked me to Socorro whenever needed and we went on one run together.
My stuttering has noticeably gotten better around Benlyam. The worst for me was the ‘s’ sound, I would mess us every time. But I was improving in other areas.
It seemed to be going well.
Until today.
I was keeping my promise about not harming myself, but the urge has been so strong and adamant. I was frustrated and talked to Socorro about it yesterday when I saw him. He suggested I write about it.
I did.
He also said I should do dishes, listen to music, or go on a run with my wolf. I tried running however, I got easily tired and went to bed shortly after.
The voices were louder, holding hands with the urge. It got to the point where I was tightly gripping my wrists to do something to alleviate the craving. I wouldn’t notice it at first and when I did, it took a second to force myself to let go.
Now, it felt like I had Tourettes because I would slap them. I was slapping a lot, it was new, and I didn’t know how to stop it. Benlyam was in a meeting so I couldn’t see him and I didn’t want to bother him.
Instead, I sat on the ground in my room, wet-cheeked, my sleeves pulled up and I stared at my cut up wrists. They were red from me repeatedly hitting them.
… On the bright side, they were healing more from the time I spent with Benlyam…
‘Who cares? Cut them!’
I bit my lip down. It was harder to push them out.
My eyes watched as my hand whacked my left wrist, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. A whimper left my lips as my other smacked as well.
( ‘I want mate!’ )
‘Don’t be selfish!’
‘Just cut!’
I squeezed my eyes and a sob shook my body. I tried sitting on my hands, but it didn’t work.
After what felt like an eternity of crying, hitting, and debating I finally pulled myself up. I walked out of my room, tears flowing down my cheeks as I collapsed my wrists together in a death grip.
I kept chanting to myself, ‘just see Benlyam, it’ll be okay’ but it was hard when people kept shouting at me to turn around and not bother him. He was in a meeting…
I neared the big brown door and knocked quickly, biting down on my lip as a slap was applied to my wrist. My head was pounding. The door opened revealing Benlyam, he had a crease in between his eyebrows and concern stamped on his face.
I saw two men in his office before his figure blocked them from my eyesight. I looked up at him, teary-eyed and in slight visible pain.
“Flower, are you okay? What’s wrong?” he asked softly, stepping to me.
I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. He did a quick scan of my body and then landed on my wrist clapped in my hands.
“Flower,” he whispered and reached out, prying them apart and inspecting them. He saw that they were red and had small welt marks from my hands. “Oh, it’s okay. Come on,” he gently whispered, moving up to grasp my shoulders. He opened his door, held me to his side, and walked in. He was shielding me from the eye line of those men.
“Let’s take a fifteen minute break. I’ll call,” Benlyam ordered, his voice hard. I slightly flinched.
“Yes, Alpha,” the two men respectfully spoke, they got up and left.
Once they were out of his eyesight he removed me from his side and went to the couch, sitting me down with him. I sniffled and unwillingly I went to squeeze my wrists but he gently grasped my hands to prevent it.
“Flower-” he gently spoke but my sob cut him off.
“It h-hurts,” I gasped between my cries.
“Okay honey, what? Tell me so I can fix it,” he spoke comfortingly, well-modulating.
Cries left my lips as I shut my eyes. Everything did. My wrists were screaming at me and the painkiller was a sharp object to stick in it and fix it. It felt like a marching band was parading in my head, stomping all over the place. My throat felt like sandpaper being squeezed by an anaconda from crying.
I shook my head slightly and looked at him through my tears. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Instead, I jutted my wrists to him, which were already in his hold.
“Your wrists?” he asked.
I nodded, “a-and my head, m-my throat, e-everything,” I cried out and shut my eyes as my body shook with a sob.
“Okay Flower,” he grasped my hands and pulled me into his chest, my cheek meeting. He ran a hand through my hair and then rested it on my back, his other hand securely held one of mine to his chest. I knew why, because then they wouldn’t wrap around him and potentially cause damage.
‘Disrupted his meeting.’
‘Bad.’
“Ben-” I cut myself off with a cry and I buried myself in him and his grip tightened. “I’m so s-sorry,” I whispered.
He slightly pulled back to look at me. “Honey, you’re not doing anything wrong. I told you to come see me, you’re fine.” He kissed my forehead but I shook my head.
“N-no, I ruined your m-meeting,” I sniffled.
He shook his head, “Violet,” I frowned, “you didn’t ruin my meeting. I told you to get me if you felt like this, good girl.” he praised and my heart leaped. “Thank you. You’re okay. Good Flower,” he gave another kiss to me and I nodded and he pushed my back against him.
Good Flower. I liked that. Brought a sense of comfort, of security. It’s what I grew up hearing and I secretly adored how he still called me ‘flower’ so it felt better.
My wrists weren’t throbbing as badly but they still stung. I sniffled and my hand unintentionally formed a fist and tugged in his grip to try and hit my other. I frowned and Benlyam pulled back.
“Sorry Flower,” I got confused and furrowed my brows as he brought my wrists up to his mouth and kissed them. I stared at him, puzzled, but soon the ache subdued, and he pulled me back into him.
“How?” I whispered against him.
“Mate bond,” he told me as he sat back, pulling me so I was straddling his lap. One arm was securely wrapped around my waist and the other was running through my hair. I buried my face in his shoulder.