Chapter 26 Worse Than I Thought
Ryland
I wake up with Gracie still sound asleep next to me, snoring lightly. She really is beautiful. I take in her soft features for a moment, and for the first time, I notice the freckles that run over the arch of her nose. Cute! I chuckle at the way she is lying. Gracie has one leg out of the bed, the covers were off her, and the tee she is wearing had crawled up, showing her panties.
My laughing comes to a halt when my eyes fall on the top of her thighs and freeze. It is there I see them. They are covered in both cuts and scars, some older and some still look fresh. She hurts herself. My heart breaks for her. I know she is going through a lot, but I never imagined she would be doing that to herself. It explains why she always covers up. It is why she didn’t come swimming with everyone that night. She is hiding what she has been doing to herself. I wonder if Lola knows. I have a feeling she doesn’t, though. Something tells me there is a lot Gracie hides even from her best friend.
I reach my arm out and gently run my fingertips over the scars, not enough for her to feel me doing it. I sigh to myself. I don’t know what I should. Should I tell her that I have seen them or act like I haven’t? I don’t know how she will react if she knows that I know about them.
Gracie stirs, and I quickly pull my hand away from her and lie back down next to her.
“Ryland,” she whispers tiredly.
“Good morning, brown eyes. I am right here.” I say.
Gracie turns to me and smiles. I try my best to smile back. The truth is, my heart is hurting for her. She looks down, and that is when she notices her scars and cuts are in full view. Panic takes over her face, and she yanks at the tee to cover them back up, and then her eyes meet mine again.
I see tears in her eyes, and shame takes over her face. “Y-Y-You saw them?”
“Yes, I saw them. How long have you been hurting yourself, Gracie?” I ask softly and go to reach for her.
Gracie abruptly pulls away from me. “You don’t know what you are talking about.” She snaps.
Gracie jumps out of bed and rushes to the bathroom. “You weren’t meant to see them.” She sobs before she closes and locks the bathroom.
Damn it! This is not how I wanted this to go. I sprint out of bed and go to the bathroom, knocking on the door. I can hear her crying on the other side.
“Gracie, please open the door.” I plead with a gentle tone.
“It is fine, Ryland, just leave right now because I know you will as soon as we return home. No one wants to be around someone like me, someone who hurts themselves.” She whimpers.
Is that what she thinks? I am just going to walk away because she hurts herself. No, I won’t do that. I plan on doing the opposite. I am not going anywhere because she needs me more than I first thought.
“Gracie, I am not going anywhere. I promise, baby girl.
“Stop lying to me! Everyone leaves! Why postpone the obvious?” she snaps.
I slump down against the wall and sit outside the bathroom. “Please, Gracie, open the door. I am not going anywhere. You need to believe me when I say that.”
Gracie doesn’t respond, but I can still hear her crying. I don’t move. I stay where I am and try my best to talk her into coming out of the bathroom. It takes about twenty minutes, but I hear the door finally unlock. I jump to my feet just as the door opens.
Gracie appears, her eyes are red and puffy. Her cheeks are damp from her tears, and the sadness is clear in her eyes. She is still sobbing. I reach for her and pull her to my chest, hugging her against me.
“I am right here, Gracie. I promise. You are going to be okay.” I say and kiss the top of her head.
She buries her face in my chest and slips her arms around me as he cries. I don’t say a word. I hold her and stroke her hair.
Gracie lifts her head to look up at me. “I am sorry. You shouldn’t have to put up with this from me.” Her words are strained.
I reach in and wipe the tears away from her sad eyes. She closes them and moves into my touch.
“How long have you been hurting yourself, Gracie?” I ask softly.
Sighing, she pulls away from me and goes over to the bed, crawling onto it. She brings her knees to her chest and covers them with her oversized tee. I follow and climb on, too, kneeling before her.
“About four years now.” Her words are in a whisper.
I take her hand in mine. “Why?”
“Because I hate myself, that is why. I would rather hurt myself than lash out at other people.”
“Why do you hate yourself? There is nothing wrong with you. You are beautiful, inside and out, just the way you are.”
“Have you ever felt like you have lost control of everything in your life, and you can’t do anything about it?” she asks.
“Yes, many times. Why do you think I do the things I do?”
“That was another reason why I started hurting myself. Once my mom passed, everything got worse. I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t tell anyone what was going on because they would never believe me.”
I can see the tears build in her eyes. I shift closer and wipe her tears away once again as they keep falling. I knew something wasn’t right at home for her, and now with her saying what she is, my worries have been confirmed.