Last night there was a boy.
I couldn’t see him, not really; he felt right in the corner of my right eye. When I wasn’t looking, he was there, I could feel his presence – but when I looked, he vanished, taunting me for even believing he existed in the first place.
I have never seen him before but the last couple of weeks I’ve felt quite strongly that the self harm urges I leap in and out of had a male source. Not that I could hear the voice, it’s not that clear cut… But I just knew it was a male thought. Another part, like Little, but more sinister? The night before I saw him, a self harm helpline managed to persuade me out of harming. They took his thought and we destroyed it together. I wonder whether that is why he was so very present in my mind’s eye last night.
Little was absolutely hysterically terrified, convinced that he had come to kill her for not harming the night before. For disobeying. He was carrying a length of rope which she was transfixed on, though it has absolutely no meaning to me and maybe she just needed something to ‘stare at’. I won’t write his description here as I don’t want to trigger but he’s classic horror movie scary… Nothing that has any specific importance to my past.
I was just convinced I’ve actually gone mad. I’m finally crackers. Seeing things is the final step before the straight jacket right? I try to remember my GPs words, that so long as you’re questioning your sanity, you’re sane. Crazy people are totally convinced they’re normal. The fact that I know he was not real would have been enough for her.
But still. Holy shit.
Little took Kali (or Pedro, as he is known by my best friend and boyfriend! Pedro the polar bear, I ask you…) to bed with us and we did all the old things that used to keep us safe. We started at one end of the duvet and we rolled like a sausage to the other end. We sucked our thumb. We gave imaginary sheep names. And eventually sleep came.
He was gone by this morning, though I can still feel the bruise where he was.
I am terrified of telling T, but I’ve emailed her and told her she has to push me to tell her about The Boy. I need her to get me to describe him, to ‘out’ him into my safe world where I know T will keep me safe from him. I need someone to know how scared I am that ‘seeing’ things is another box I’ve ticked off. I need to hear her perfectly melodic voice persuade me I’m genuinely safe.
But help. I am so scared she’ll call me crazy. Make me leave. Tell me to take my crazy and leave her the hell alone.
Please don’t leave me, T. I am so scared. And you’re all I’ve got.