For one moment I was speechless, the next I was reaching for his arms, tracing the unknown lines as if that would make them disappear.
"How long?" I asked. "How long have you been doing this?"
"Two months and a half now." he sadly admitted. "The first time I did it was when it seemed like Josh was going to die from that infection. I was hurting so bad... when I cut myself I felt a lot better, the pain seemed to release itself in the form of a more real, physical pain."
Ryan started crying. "And then I did it again, and again, and before I knew it I couldn't stop. If it had been my choice you wouldn't have ever found out, but I've reached a dead end, Dad. I want out of this, and I want it soon. I can't live with all this. At first it seemed to help, but now it's trapped me. I'm addicted to cutting."
"Ryan..." I cried as well, and could not stop staring at his arms. Some of the cuts were lined with puss, and I knew they were infected. "You realize you've got an infection going here, don't you?"
"That's another reason I had to tell you. I thought it would go away, but I just feel under the weather all the time and I want to get rid of the infection, too. Also, I didn't, and don't, want Josh to get any infection. I do care about him, even if it doesn't always show."
We talked for a while, and he assured me he felt better, and also promised that we would go to the emergency room in a while. We also didn't want to tell Josh for the time being, lest he blame himself for this happening, or the kids, because they are just too young to face something like this if it can be helped.
I helped Ryan pick up his things in his room, and then we went to pick up Michael together, and also Jamie. Both of the little ones seemed to be in a good mood and talking a lot (especially Jamie), which was nice, because it made Ryan smile. When I saw Ryan smile I realize just how seldom we'd seen him do that lately. He'd always been in some mood, and I had blamed it on grief, or just his being a teenager. I had not once realized just how much this was affecting him. A lot of the time he seemed indifferent, other times he acted slightly annoyed by the whole thing.
I managed to get one of my neighbor's teenage girls to stay with Jamie and Michael, as I drove Ryan to the emergency room.
"Can't stay away, Mr. Carter?" One of the doctors, who knew me, joked.
I smiled, but showed him Ryan's arms, at which he gave a grave look, then led us in right away.
He talked about the dangers of cutting and prescribed some medicine as he bandaged the arms carefully.
"You have to promise never to cut again, Ryan. In fact, let me give you the information for a support group, some tips about what you can do when you feel like cutting, the number of a great psychologist..." the doctor piled the papers on the desk.
When we left Ryan smiled and asked for a hug.
"I needed that."
"I did too." I grinned. "Now, Ryan, every time you feel sad and overwhelmed, you know you can turn to me, okay?"
"Sure, Dad."
It sure felt good for Ryan to be in a good mood for once, even calling me Dad and not squirming away when I gave him a hug.
I was sure that Ryan was in the fast track to a cure, and I wanted to call my psychologist the moment I arrived home, but he said not to call unless it was an emergency. I'd be seeing him in a few days, anyway.
At home I had the kids play soccer, and even joined in myself for a while, before going back inside. Apparently I am not in as good a shape as I thought. But it didn't matter, my kids were well, safe, and happy. At that moment, anyway.
Whoever would have known that things would get this crazy? Who's to say nothing else will happen?
Author's Chapter Notes:
Ok, so I've had this for a few days, sorry for not getting around to posting *apologetic smile*.
