You Let Him Know When You Need Him (4/4)
Two posts in one night? Iâm on a roll.Â
**TRIGGER WARNING** The following stories contain strong language, violence, mentions of self harm, suicide, and anxiety. Please do not read this if you are triggered by any of those things.
Promise that youâll talk to me if you ever want to hurt yourself again.
Your boyfriendâs words from a year ago are ringing in your mind as you hold the fresh blade dangerously close to your skin. Youâve been clean for a year now, but suddenly the demons have come back and youâre feeling the overwhelming urge to hurt yourself again. You know that itâll upset Luke, but youâre craving the sting of the blade as it crosses your wrists again and again. Youâre about to make the first cut when you notice the scars that are still there from the last time you did this. Theyâre faded and almost invisible now, Â but you suddenly remember the night that Luke caught you cutting.
You guys had only been together for a little over a year, but you had already moved in together. You were having a particularly bad night while Luke was out with his friends, and when he came home, he found you on the bathroom floor. You had accidentally cut a bit too deep and you had lost a lot of blood. Of course, he rushed you to the hospital, and since then, youâve held up your promise to him that you would never hurt yourself again.
Tears started to roll down your cheeks as you quickly picked up your phone and dialed Lukeâs number. He was out at band practice, but you needed him to come home. For the first time, you wanted him to stop you before you were able to hurt yourself.
It rang a few times, and you started to worry that he might not pick up, but then his smooth voice came through the phone.
âHey, babe,â he answers. âWhatâs up?â
You try to stifle a sob when you hear his voice. âLuke,â you whimper.
â(Y/N)? What is it? Whatâs wrong?â He asks, panic in his voice.
You breathe deeply a few times, trying to collect yourself before you answer. âI-I really want to hurt myself, and I need you.â
You hear some commotion in the background as Lukeâs voice becomes even more frantic. âBaby, Iâm on my way home right now, okay? Just stay on the phone with me and donât do anything until I get there.â
You nod even though you know he canât see it. He talks to you for the few minutes that it takes him to drive home, attempting to keep you calm while he makes his way there.
Soon, you hear the front door open and shut and his heavy footsteps come running up the stairs. He drops his phone in the hallway when he sees you sitting in the bathroom and he runs to you, dropping to his knees beside you.
By this point, youâre a tear-stained mess. The blade is still being held between your trembling fingers, but youâve moved it away from your wrist.
Luke pulls you carefully onto his lap and he slips the blade out of your hand. You wrap your arms around his neck and let your tears fall against his shirt.
âItâs okay, baby,â he says softly. âIâm here. Youâre okay. Weâre going to get through this, alright?â
He continues whispering comforting words until youâve finally calmed down enough to look at him. His big blue eyes are laced with worry as he searches your face for any hint of what youâre thinking.
âThank you,â you finally croak, your voice rough from all the crying. âThank you for coming.â
He sighs, relieved that youâre finally starting to calm down. âThank you for calling me. I was so worried that if you ever tried to hurt yourself again, you wouldnât call me and Iâd be too late.â
You shake your head. âIâm sorry, it just all gets to be too much sometimes.â
He nods. âI know, and youâre so strong. Just please know that Iâm always just a phone call away.â
If he ever messes with you again, tell me and Iâll knock him out.
Calumâs words are running through your head as you stand backstage listening to the boys do their sound check for tonightâs show. Youâd been on tour with Calum now for a couple weeks. You had a break in school and you had both been missing each other like crazy.
The only problem thatâs come up is one of the boysâ crew members, Josh. It started at a party one night. Calum had begged you to go with him, and you finally agreed after he pulled out the puppy dog eyes. He knew you couldnât resist those.
You had seen Josh around backstage a couple times, so you recognized him when he approached you at the party. Calum had wandered off to talk to a few people, and Josh was suddenly right beside you, his hand wrapping around your waist.
By the way he was swaying back and forth, he had clearly already had a few drinks, so you didnât think much of it. You simply pushed his arm away from you and went to find Calum.
The next night, however, the boys had a show. You were standing off to the side, watching them perform and smiling at how amazing your boyfriend was when suddenly, someoneâs arms were around your waist. You jumped, but the arms clung to you.
You spun around to see Josh smiling down at you as he pulled you closer to him. You tried to push him away, but he just held on. You yelled at him to get his hands off of you, but he just kept getting closer, his hands reaching up and touching places that were off limits to anyone except Calum.
Thankfully, another crew member had seen what was happening and came over and peeled Josh off of you. You were startled, to say the least. After the show, the other crew member told Calum about what happened, and Calum, of course, wanted to go find Josh and rip his head off. You were able to calm him down, though, and you convinced him that you had handled it and Josh wasnât going to bother you anymore (even though that wasnât entirely true, you hadnât handled anything).
Since that night, Josh seemed to back off. He didnât try to get close to you at all, or even look at you. You were finally starting to feel safe again. The boys were just finishing up their soundcheck, when those familiar arms reached out and grabbed you. You nearly screamed, but his large hands were covering your mouth in an instant.
He dragged you out of view from the stage, and into a corner where no one could see you. He took his hand off of your mouth as he shoved you up against the wall.
âYou told on me?â He asked, his eyes fuming with anger.
You were trembling, but you managed to shake your head. âI didnât. The guy who got you off of me did.â
âYeah, well, now thanks to you, Iâve been demoted to clean-up duty,â he spat.
You werenât sure what he wanted you to say. It wasnât your fault. You could hear that the boys were still strumming around on their instruments, but you prayed that Calum would be able to hear you if you yelled loud enough.
âCalum!â You screamed, your outburst catching Josh by surprise.
He slammed his hand back down over your mouth, but the stage went silent. You hoped that that meant Calum heard you.
You could hear many different pairs of footsteps scrambling around backstage, and your name was being called as they tried to find you. You struggled against Joshâs strong grasp on you, but it was no use. He easily overpowered you.
Finally, Calumâs face came into view as he rounded the corner where Josh had you pinned. Josh immediately let go of you and tried to run past your boyfriend.
He didnât make it far before Calum grabbed him and threw him against the wall opposite you.
âWho the fuck do you think you are? How dare you fucking touch my girlfriend like that!â Calum yelled as his fist connected with Joshâs nose.
One punch. Thatâs all it took and Josh crumbled to the floor, unconscious.
Calum then turned to you and pulled you into his arms. He squeezed you tightly, and you buried your face in his chest.
âAre you okay?â He asked.
You nodded against his chest. âThank you,â you mumbled.
âAnytime.â
Come to me if youâre ever having these thoughts again.
Youâre sitting on the floor, your head in your hands as your draw in one shaky breath after another. A feeling of de ja vu sweeps over you as you clutch a bottle of pills in your hand. Youâd finally had enough. This wasnât the first time that youâd seriously considered ending your life. The last time, though, your boyfriend, Michael, had walked in and stopped you before you had the chance.
Youâd seen a counselor after that incident, and for a while Michael never left your side. He went everywhere with you and he constantly made sure you knew how beautiful and amazing you were.
For a while everything was fine. You were having no more thoughts of hurting yourself, and your counselor seemed to think you had made great progress. You stopped seeing her, and life with you and Michael went back to normal.
And then you got on Twitter. It had been almost a year now since your last suicide attempt, and you had hardly felt any need to end your life since then. But somehow your last attempt got leaked and everyone on Twitter was now talking about it.
Some people were talking about Michael and how he deserved to be with someone more mentally stable than you, which you agree with. Others were simply telling you that you shouldâve gone through with it. And suddenly, you find yourself wishing that you had.
The pills begin to shake loudly in the bottle as your hands start to tremble more vigorously. You donât want to leave Michael, but you also donât want to live anymore. Your head is going crazy as you try to convince yourself that Michael will be okay once youâre gone, but at the same time youâre trying to convince yourself to call him and have him stop you. You want a normal and happy life with Michael, but deep down inside, you know that you can never have that. The demons in your head wonât allow it.
You take a deep breath as you unscrew the lid on the bottle and begin counting out the pills in your hand. You stare at them for a few seconds, and then suddenly tilt your hand and drop them on the carpet beside you.
You pick up your phone and call Michael, who is out to lunch with the boys. He picks up after only one ring.
âHey, princess. I was just thinking about you,â he chirps happily into the phone.
You pause for a moment before you speak, making sure that this is really what you want to do. âM-Mikey,â you stutter.
He can tell immediately from your voice that somethingâs wrong. â(Y/N)? Are you okay?â
âC-come home please,â you manage to whisper, your voice shaking like crazy.
âIâm on my way, babe,â he replies immediately. âWhatâs going on? Are you hurt?â
You try to calm your voice before you speak again, but itâs no use. âThe fans, they know about what happened l-last year. They a-are telling me that I should have g-gone through with it. Iâm starting to think theyâre r-right.â
Thereâs a few seconds of silence on the phone, and you start to think that he might have hung up, but then his voice comes out more frantic than before.
âBaby, donât you dare listen to them, okay? Theyâre wrong. Youâre the most beautiful and amazing person Iâve ever known. If you took yourself away from me I donât know what I would do,â Michael says, his voice shaking.
You are silent as you start to cry some more. You look down at the pills beside you, and wonder if they would be able to kill you before Michael can make it home. You donât want to, but at the same time you do.
â(Y/N)? Talk to me. Just keep talking to me. Iâll be home in just a minute, okay? But you have to keep talking to me.â
âO-okay,â you stutter.
Heâs relieved to hear your voice. âWhere are you right now?â
âThe bedroom,â you answer quietly.
âOkay, can you do something for me? I want you to get up and go down to the living room. Sit on the couch, snuggle yourself up in a blanket, and watch some t.v. Get your mind off of things, alright? Can you do that?â
His voice is so gentle and non-judgmental that it makes you wonder again why heâs with someone as screwed up as you. You realize after a few seconds that youâve gone silent again, and Michael starts talking again.
âPrincess? Please keep talking to me. Go to the living room,â he says again.
You still stay silent as the voices in your head start to get unbearably loud. Michael is still saying things into your ear, but you put the phone on the floor beside you. There are too many voices telling you what to do right now, and itâs overwhelming.
Suddenly, the bedroom door flies open, and your boyfriend runs through, his expression frantic as he hurries over to you. He looks at the pills on the floor beside you and brings his hands up to your face.
âBabe, how many did you take?â He asks, his eyes filled with tears.
You shake your head. âI didnât,â you tell him.
You can see the relief flood through him at your words and he immediately pulls you into a hug.
âThank God,â he whispers. âIâm so glad that youâre okay. I was so worried.â
âIâm sorry,â you sob into his chest. âIâm sorry that Iâm so messed up. The fans are right, you deserve someone better.â
âNo, donât listen to them, okay? I love you. I love everything about you and nothing is ever going to change that, I swear. Weâre going to get through this. Weâre going to be okay.â
Let me know if you ever start to panic again, alright? Iâll help you through it.
Ashton had known about your anxiety almost since the beginning of your relationship. However, you had always managed to keep hidden just how bad it actually was. He knew that you had social anxiety and that it flared up whenever you were around a lot of people. He didnât know, though, that sometimes this caused you to have extremely severe panic attacks.
You had always managed to hide it from him. Whenever you would start to feel panicky, you would find an excuse to get away from him while you rode it out. But one particular night, Ashton had dragged you to some party that one of his friends was throwing. You hated parties, but you went anyways.
About thirty minutes in, youâd already lost Ashton, and suddenly you found yourself being drowned in a sea of drunk teenagers. You tried yelling Ashtonâs name, but it was no use over the blaring music. You could feel your chest starting to constrict, so you quickly made your way outside onto the driveway.
You immediately sat down and put your head between your knees, trying to get a deep breath. You thought you were the only one out there, but then you felt someoneâs hands on your back. It made you jump and you looked up to see Ashton looking down at you with worry etched on his face.
You were forced then to explain to him the full extent of your battle with anxiety, and he apologized over and over again for all the parties and social events heâd made you go to. Thatâs the reason you hadnât wanted to tell him about it in the first place. You knew that he would go out of his way to accommodate you, which meant that he would keep himself from going out and doing things that he really wanted to do.
After that night, you two came to the agreement that he would still take you out to parties and such as long as you promised to let him know if you started to feel panicky. It seemed like a good deal, and so far, all of the events that heâd brought you to had gone fine.
Until tonight.
This was the first âbigâ party that Ashton had wanted to go to ever since your last panic attack. You had finally convinced him that you could handle going, and now you found yourself once again in a sea of drunk teenagers.
This time, though, Ashton kept himself glued to your side. He was afraid to leave you, because he didnât want you to have another panic attack without him there to help you. Heâd had a lot of friends in the past who had anxiety and panic attacks, and he knew that if they were bad enough, they could lead a person to hurt themselves or worse. He would not let that happen to you.
As you waded your way through the people, you could feel the familiar tightening in your chest. You grip Ashtonâs hand just a little bit tighter, and he glances over at you, noticing that something is off.
âYou okay?â He asks, his voice just barely carrying over the loud music.
You nod and attempt a smile to reassure him.
He seems to believe it as he turns back to whoever he was talking to. You can feel an attack coming on, but you really donât want to make Ashton leave. He seems like heâs having such a good time. You know, though, that he would be hurt if you didnât let him know what was going on. He wants to help.
You wait until heâs finished his conversation and then squeeze his hand again, bringing his attention back to you. Youâve started to become more and more panicked in the last few seconds, and Ashton immediately recognizes the look in your eye.
Without saying a word, he begins pulling you toward the front door. The two of you walk outside as you begin to gasp for air. Thankfully, there doesnât seem to be anyone else around.
âBreathe,â Ashton instructs softly as you lower yourself to the ground.
You pull your knees into your chest and your breathing becomes so difficult that you start to wheeze.
Ashtonâs hand is resting on your back as he crouches beside you. âBaby, just breathe. Youâre okay, Iâm here. Everythingâs okay.â
You nod, trying to listen to what heâs saying, but everything is just becoming a blur.
âDo I need to take you to the hospital? (Y/N)?â He asks, panic slowly rising in his voice.
You shake your head.
âOkay, just listen to my voice. Focus on me, okay? Youâre safe. Itâs just the two of us. Everythingâs going to be okay.â
After a few more minutes of labored breathing, you finally feel yourself starting to come back to reality. You lift your head up and look at Ashton, his worried eyes staring down at you.
âAre you alright?â He asks.
You nod. âThanks, Ash. Iâm sorry that you had to leave the party.â
He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to him. âDonât apologize. It was a pretty lame party anyways.â
You laugh and nuzzle yourself closer to your boyfriend. You can still hear the music and the voices coming from the house behind you, but wrapped in Ashtonâs arms, you finally start to feel safe.
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