Start the song. It's Eugene by Sufjan Stevens.

***This chapter will contain a graphic scene of self harm and references to childhood sexual abuse. PLEASE pay attention to the warnings throughout the chapter.***

It was around Josh's thirteenth birthday that his daddy's new girlfriend moved in. She didn't officially move in, but she slept over a lot. Her name was Marybeth, and she always did Abbie's hair before school and called Josh "honey." He didn't like that much. She was also a nurse, which he liked even less.

Marybeth wasn't a terrible presence in the house, but she made Josh feel on edge. He didn't like when she sat in their daddy's lap or ruffled Josh's hair or called Abbie "pretty girl." It all felt too much like having a mama, and Josh didn't want one of those. Still, he let her help him with his homework and stitch up his wounds and sometimes kiss them better.

He was always careful though. Usually when she stayed the night, he let Abbie sleep in his bed and propped a chair under the door. She could sleep in his daddy's room, but she wasn't allowed in his. Even his daddy didn't come in his room much because he knew Josh got antsy when anyone but Abbie came in.

Marybeth was the only one home when Josh led Abbie into the trailer after their last day of school. His baby sister had cried when he'd shown up at her school with one eye swollen shut and a busted lip. Dallon and Brendon had wanted to make sure they caused enough damage to make up for all the summer days they wouldn't have a chance to hit him. They'd really met their goal.

The dark-haired woman was sitting at the kitchen table when they came in, smoking a cigarette and reading through something that was probably for work. She had a smile on her face when she looked up, but it disappeared when she saw Josh. Abbie was still sniffling as she clung to his hand, forcing him to have to bring her into his room when he went to put his backpack away.

"Honey, what happened?" Marybeth asked gently as she followed them.

Josh shrugged as he pulled his hand out of Abbie's. It was starting to ache where Dallon had slammed it in a locker. His unofficial stepmom gasped when she saw it, taking his other hand and leading him into the living room. He was too surprised that she'd set foot into his room and touched him to pull away as he was sat down on the couch. She sat down beside him with one leg folded beneath herself and began examining his hand.

With the eye that wasn't swollen shut, Josh watched her. Her hair was dark and her eyes were green. She had freckles on her nose like Ashley did. She was wearing one of his daddy's shirts and a pair of cutoff shorts. Josh thought she was pretty, and that made him dislike her even more.

"Honey, I think your hand is sprained," Marybeth told him softly. "I'm gonna wrap it up for you, okay? Then we better stitch up your forehead and get some ice on your eye. You poor thing. What happened?"

Abbie climbed up on the couch behind Josh and rested her head against the space between his shoulders. Her arms wrapped around his stomach. She was shaking, and Josh knew it bothered her when he got beat up. He just didn't know why. It wasn't like anybody was going to hurt her. Still, she was only nine, so she was allowed to be nervous.

"Nothing," Josh replied.

He watched his father's girlfriend go into the bathroom and come back with the first aid kit. She sat down in front of him again and immediately set to work treating his hand.

"It don't look like nothing to me," she told him calmly.

"Then stop looking," he mumbled.

She smiled slightly. "You don't gotta be tough all the time, honey. You're allowed to be a kid too."

"I can do both," Josh replied, glancing protectively over his shoulder at his sister to make sure she wasn't crying again. She wasn't.

He had to fight the urge to hit Marybeth whenever she touched him for too long. He didn't want her touching him, but he also knew she was helping. Besides, he wasn't sure if she'd break like Abbie would if he hit her. He'd broken a few of Abbie's bones already, and he wasn't proud of that. It hadn't been his fault though. She'd yelled at him first.

Josh ignored the rest of Marybeth's questions as she stitched him up and wrapped up his hand. He carried Abbie to her bed when she fell asleep, ignoring both Marybeth's protests and the pain in his hand. Since his daddy was working a night shift and his sister was fast asleep, Josh had to eat dinner alone with his unofficial stepmom. She tried to talk to him and to get him to tell her who'd hit him, but he shut down whenever she asked. It was none of her business.

"I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?" She asked him carefully over a plate of chicken and potatoes.

"I don't do that," Josh replied, tugging at the rubber band on his wrist as he glanced at the door. He wished his daddy would come home.

"You'll be happy someday. I promise," she told him with a supportive smile.

He stiffened when she reached across the table and squeezed his hand. It took him a full minute to coax the tension out of his muscles even after her fingertips left his skin. He wasn't scared of her. He just didn't like when she touched him.

"Now you run along and do your homework while I do the dishes. Let me know if you need any help, okay?" Marybeth told him as she collected their empty plates and walked over to the sink.

Josh watched her for a second, waiting for the discomfort to go away. He went to his room as soon as it did and started on his homework. He breezed right through it without needing any help from her. There had only been a couple times he'd actually taken up her offer for help, and he hadn't been in that great a need of it.

The moment Josh's homework was finished, boredom hit. He stared at the walls in his room, snapped the rubber band around his wrist, counted the panels on the walls, and watched the clock tick closer and closer to when his dad would come home. After at least ten minutes of waiting impatiently for the boredom to pass, Josh climbed off of his bed and left his room. He went into the bathroom, locking the door behind himself.

For just a moment, Josh pressed his ear against the door and listened to see if Marybeth was around. He could only hear the TV playing some sort of reality show he didn't care about. He grinned as he sat down on the closed toilet lid and pulled his knife out of his pocket. Boredom was no match for his pocketknife. It never had been.

***Trigger Warning for self harm. Move to the next author's note if that will trigger you.***

With careful precision, Josh started to carve horizontal lines across his already scarred forearm. He'd memorized where all of his veins were so he wouldn't hit them when he did this. It calmed him down and eased the boredom, but that wouldn't be any good to him if he bled out.

He'd learned a while ago that sometimes it helped to jerk off while he did this, but he didn't like doing that with Marybeth in the house. Besides, he didn't want his dad to know he was doing that. The Bible said not to, but sometimes that was the only way to calm himself down when he was too angry or overwhelmed to function.

Josh knew his daddy had sex outside of marriage though, and that was supposed to be a sin too. He only did it when he thought his kids were asleep, but sometimes Marybeth was too loud and woke Josh up. Abbie could sleep through tornados, but Josh woke up easy. He always knew when his daddy was up too late doing things God wouldn't like. His daddy had assured him that he would be married to Marybeth if he wasn't still legally married to their mama though, so maybe God counted that as married. Josh didn't know. All he knew was that the blood coming out of his arm was a little too thick.

"Shit," he whispered, setting his knife down quickly and pulling a bunch of toilet paper off of the roll. He pressed it against his arm, but the blood soaked through too quickly.

Annoyance grew in Josh when the bleeding wouldn't stop. He hadn't hit anything important. He'd just cut too deep. He sighed, flushing the toilet paper and leaving the bathroom. As much as it pained him to do it, he went into the kitchen.

***The actual scene of self harm is over, but Josh cut too deep and the next few little bits will be dealing with that. Proceed with caution.*

Marybeth was reading again. She was going to tell his dad and get him in trouble, but logically she was the best person to tell. She was a nurse. Besides, his daddy usually only yelled for a bit, hugged Josh, and went into his room where he thought Josh wouldn't know he was crying.

"Marybeth?" Josh asked quietly.

"You need help with your homework, honey?" She asked without looking up from the book in her hands.

"No," Josh replied calmly. He watched her for a second before stating, "I think I need stitches."

Her green eyes shot up to him immediately. They widened as she closed her book quickly and shot out of her chair. "Sit down, honey. What happened?"

She was already grabbing the first aid kit again and pulling it open. Josh watched her in slight amusement. It wasn't that big of a deal. Why was she acting like he'd just told her he'd killed someone?

"Oh my god!" He heard her cry out from the bathroom before she was hurrying out with his knife. "Did you do this to yourself?"

"Yeah," Josh replied calmly as she quickly prepped a needle for stitches.

"Why, Joshua?" She asked worriedly, her expression just as soft as always.

He shrugged. "I got bored."

"Oh, honey," she said sadly.

Josh watched her fingers as she began to stitch up the first of two wide gashes on his forearm. Her fingers moved with such dexterity, and it was mesmerizing. Josh couldn't stop watching.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" He asked curiously.

The older woman looked at him for a moment before letting him take the needle from her. "I'll talk you through it, okay?"

"Okay," Josh agreed, quietly admiring the blood on the needle.

"Be careful, ya hear?" Marybeth told him.

Josh nodded, waiting for instructions. He followed every single one, but it didn't take long for his movements to become second nature. He liked the way the blood squished out as he pulled the split skin shut. He liked the sound of it too. He liked the colour just as much. He liked it all.

"That's really good, honey," Marybeth coached, and only after hearing her voice did he focus enough to realize she was holding his hand on the arm he was stitching, the sprained one. He considered letting go for a second, but decided against it. Squeezing her hand made the stitching hurt less. "Okay, now you've gotta tie it off. I'll show you how to do it on this cut and you can tie off the other."

Josh let her take the needle, watching in interest as she tied it off. She snipped the thread before showing him how to thread the needle again. It was strange how much more Josh liked Marybeth after she'd taught him how to stitch himself up. Once they'd finished and cleaned it all up, Marybeth released his hand and took both of his cheeks in her hands. He could feel her long nails against his skin and just how soft her hands were against his face. His own skin felt hot as he met her gaze, which was stern.

"I didn't show you this so you could hurt yourself more, understand?" She told him seriously.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied quietly.

"And I didn't show you this so you could hurt other people, understand?" She pressed.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I showed you this because you're just as capable of fixing things as you are of breaking them, and it's important that you know that," she continued.

Josh didn't know what to say to that, so he nodded as best as he could with her holding his face. She nodded too, surprising him when she kissed his forehead before smiling at him.

"Now you go get ready for bed. Your daddy'll kill me if I let you stay up too late," she told him in that weirdly motherly way she always did.

It always threw Josh off when she talked to him like she was his mama. His real mama hadn't ever even talked to him like that. In fact, whenever she did talk nice to him, he knew something bad was going to happen. That wasn't the case with Marybeth. She was just...nice.

"Thanks, ma'am," he told her quietly before heading towards his room.

"Do you need anything else, honey?" Marybeth asked quickly. "I don't want you to go in there if you ain't feeling safe."

Josh hesitated in his doorway. Apart from the slight unease he felt whenever he was in his room, he was fine. He'd only cut himself because he was bored. It wasn't like he was depressed or anything. He was too heavily medicated and emotionally stunted for that.

"I'm okay," he told her.

Marybeth didn't look convinced. "Josh-"

"I'm fine, Marybeth," Josh snapped. He'd already said it once.

She sighed, always looking a bit more nervous when Josh was rude to her than his daddy did. Still, she left the table and walked over to him. His whole body stiffened when she hugged him. If she noticed, she didn't say anything. She just rubbed his back gently and kissed the top of his head.

"You be safe now. I ain't got any babies of my own, but I still don't want nothing to happen to my boyfriend's babies," she told Josh gently.

Maybe it was because of the sick feeling Josh got from being touched by her for so long, but he heard himself say, "He's just going to break up with you when he realizes you aren't ever going to be like my mama. You could spend the rest of your life trying to take her place in his life and you'd never do it. She was shitty, but he'll always love her more than he loves you."

Marybeth recoiled liked she'd been bit by a snake, looking at Josh in shock. He couldn't tell if she was angry or upset or what, but she wasn't happy.

"Why would you even say that?" She asked quietly.

Josh shrugged. "You ain't my mama, and trust me. You don't want to be her."

Marybeth was silent as Josh went into his room and closed the door. He stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bed. He traced the stitches in his skin as well as the small circular scar beneath them.

Josh watched the door for a second, his discomfort growing. After a moment of debating with himself, he climbed out of bed and walked over to his desk. He took the chair in front of it and carried it to the door, propping it beneath the handle. He stared at it then.

"She ain't my mama," he whispered to himself. "Marybeth ain't my mama. She ain't gonna do what Mama did. She ain't."

His hands were shaking as he crawled into bed, pulling the covers up over his head. He couldn't sleep for hours, too busy watching the door. If Marybeth did come in, he'd kill her. He'd grab the baseball bat out from under his bed and kill her. He fell asleep sitting up with a baseball bat in his hands. He'd never tell anyone that though. He'd never tell anyone a lot of things.