right,” I said surprised at how correct her statement was. I never thought anyone would understand that fully, unless they had been a cutter themselves.
“ What are you afraid would happen if you just let yourself feel the extreme instead of pushing it away?”
“ Honestly, I have no idea. I've been doing this for so long that I can't even remember what it was like to just ride my feelings out. In some strange way, it keeps me in check.”
“ I always thought that cutting was something that would give you an adrenaline rush, not something that would numb you.”
“ Oh, the adrenaline rush is definitely there at first. I think the rush is what brings me back to reality though. It allows me to truly feel something real for just a moment and then I'm content after that as I drift back into the range of emotion I am comfortable with.”
“ Do you think you'll ever stop?”
“ I hope so. I'd like to trust myself enough to just ride through the emotions I feel.” Yes, that would be a relief. “Why are you homeless?” If she was going to dig deep into my mind, I was going to do just the same.
“ I'm not wanted enough to have a home yet.”
“ What do you mean?”
“ Do you think I could get another cup of coffee?” She asked obviously avoiding the question.
“ Yeah, help yourself.”
“ Thanks.” She went into the kitchen and fixed her third cup and returned slowly to the couch again. “If you weren't an artist what do you think you'd be doing instead?” she asked before sitting next to me again.
“ I have thought about that many times. I think I would have gotten into social work. I would have done my part to make the world a better place.”
“ You don't think you're doing that now,” a statement, not a question. How did she understand me so well? Maybe I wasn't as complex as I had thought. Maybe I was quite shallow.
“ No, I don't. What do you want to do with your life?”
“ I want to be loved again. Welcomed home again. I think if that were to happen, the rest would just fall into place.”
“ You are very vague with your answers,” I commented bluntly.
“ I suppose that's unfair to you, but I don't know how to be any other way.”
“ It's okay. I'm just glad that you aren't running away from me anymore.”
“ Sorry about that. I ran away that day because I wasn't sure about coming out of hiding just yet.”
“ I understand.” Or at least I thought I did. She yawned widely despite the amount of caffeine she had in her system. I glanced at the clock on the wall and it was almost 2am. “I should let you sleep. Let me get you a blanket. I'll be right back.”
I grabbed a thick blanket from my bedroom closet. I knew it could get a bit chilly in the living room and the blanket I chose would shield her from that. I thought about offering her my bed and I would take the couch but when I returned to the living room, she was already asleep. Curled up on her part of the couch with her hair flowing over the edge. She looked so peaceful I wasn't about to wake her. I laid the blanket over her and put the pillow next to her on the floor in case she woke up and needed one.
I sat on the couch and watched her sleep for a bit. She was mumbling incoherently for a minute and I wondered what she was dreaming about. Then I saw an involuntary smile on her face and with that, I was smiling too.
CHAPTER 5: JACE PATTERSON
When I got up in the morning, I stretched lazily. Remembering the strange dream I had in the night. Something about the girl being here in my apartment, and I painted her? It felt so impossibly real. As I stretched some more thinking about the conversation we had, how I had told her my secret, and how she, no matter how vaguely told me hers. Then, literally like a light bulb going off in my head, I realized that it wasn't a dream at all.
I flew out of bed and nearly ran to the couch where I left Sara the night before. She wasn't there, but the blanket was
“ What are you afraid would happen if you just let yourself feel the extreme instead of pushing it away?”
“ Honestly, I have no idea. I've been doing this for so long that I can't even remember what it was like to just ride my feelings out. In some strange way, it keeps me in check.”
“ I always thought that cutting was something that would give you an adrenaline rush, not something that would numb you.”
“ Oh, the adrenaline rush is definitely there at first. I think the rush is what brings me back to reality though. It allows me to truly feel something real for just a moment and then I'm content after that as I drift back into the range of emotion I am comfortable with.”
“ Do you think you'll ever stop?”
“ I hope so. I'd like to trust myself enough to just ride through the emotions I feel.” Yes, that would be a relief. “Why are you homeless?” If she was going to dig deep into my mind, I was going to do just the same.
“ I'm not wanted enough to have a home yet.”
“ What do you mean?”
“ Do you think I could get another cup of coffee?” She asked obviously avoiding the question.
“ Yeah, help yourself.”
“ Thanks.” She went into the kitchen and fixed her third cup and returned slowly to the couch again. “If you weren't an artist what do you think you'd be doing instead?” she asked before sitting next to me again.
“ I have thought about that many times. I think I would have gotten into social work. I would have done my part to make the world a better place.”
“ You don't think you're doing that now,” a statement, not a question. How did she understand me so well? Maybe I wasn't as complex as I had thought. Maybe I was quite shallow.
“ No, I don't. What do you want to do with your life?”
“ I want to be loved again. Welcomed home again. I think if that were to happen, the rest would just fall into place.”
“ You are very vague with your answers,” I commented bluntly.
“ I suppose that's unfair to you, but I don't know how to be any other way.”
“ It's okay. I'm just glad that you aren't running away from me anymore.”
“ Sorry about that. I ran away that day because I wasn't sure about coming out of hiding just yet.”
“ I understand.” Or at least I thought I did. She yawned widely despite the amount of caffeine she had in her system. I glanced at the clock on the wall and it was almost 2am. “I should let you sleep. Let me get you a blanket. I'll be right back.”
I grabbed a thick blanket from my bedroom closet. I knew it could get a bit chilly in the living room and the blanket I chose would shield her from that. I thought about offering her my bed and I would take the couch but when I returned to the living room, she was already asleep. Curled up on her part of the couch with her hair flowing over the edge. She looked so peaceful I wasn't about to wake her. I laid the blanket over her and put the pillow next to her on the floor in case she woke up and needed one.
I sat on the couch and watched her sleep for a bit. She was mumbling incoherently for a minute and I wondered what she was dreaming about. Then I saw an involuntary smile on her face and with that, I was smiling too.
CHAPTER 5: JACE PATTERSON
When I got up in the morning, I stretched lazily. Remembering the strange dream I had in the night. Something about the girl being here in my apartment, and I painted her? It felt so impossibly real. As I stretched some more thinking about the conversation we had, how I had told her my secret, and how she, no matter how vaguely told me hers. Then, literally like a light bulb going off in my head, I realized that it wasn't a dream at all.
I flew out of bed and nearly ran to the couch where I left Sara the night before. She wasn't there, but the blanket was
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