Chapter 59
Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide, depression, self harm.
Two days after returning home, Remington is driven to therapy by Sebastian nearly an hour early because the boy wouldn't stop scratching his wrists and trembling unsteadily. Sebastian decided that the best thing to do was to bring his brother early and hope he'd feel better in Abigail's house, even if he couldn't talk to her straight away.
Sebastian is the one to knock on the door, holding Remington's hand. "Hi," he says, when Abigail opens the door. "Sorry we're so early. He's having a bad day."
"No worries. Come in, Remington. The person who was scheduled for now just cancelled so we can start early, alright?" She steps aside.
Remington nods.
"Thanks Sebastian, see you later," the woman says, and closes the door behind Remington. "Come through, make yourself comfy. I take it you're still on bad terms with Andy?"
The boy nods again. He sits on the couch, agitated.
"Okay. We'll talk about that a bit later. First, I need you to pull your hands apart and take some slow, deep breaths for me." She closes the door with a click and opens a drawer.
Remington puts his hands palm down on either side of him and does as she says.
Lifting a black box from the drawer, Abigail eases the fitted lid off and puts it on the table. "Choose one of these," she says, "or a few, if you like."
The boy pulls the box closer to look inside, seeing six or seven beaded bracelets. He selects one with various shades of blue.
Abigail smiles. "Good choice." She picks up a small bottle of rose scented essential oil, unscrewing the top. "This should soothe you," she says, squeezing a few drops of the oil onto the beads. "Rub that in with your fingers and then you can keep the bracelet."
"What's it do?"
"It'll just help you to calm down and distract you from wanting to scratch."
Remington plays with the beads in his fingers. "It's pretty," he half-whispers, "thanks."
Replacing the lid on the box, Abigail puts it back in the drawer. "We're gonna take a few minutes to be quiet, okay? I want you to focus on the bracelet and your breathing."
"Okay."
They're quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, Abigail only talking once she's sure Remington is more in control of himself. Remington finds the quiet relieving. To know that he can just sit and have time to calm down makes him feel better. Recently, it's felt like he's had no real peacefulness.
"Let's talk about your fight with Andy," Abigail says, "can you tell me how it started?"
Remington looks down as he talks. "After I talked to you in Paris, he said-he told me he wasn't okay. But then he wouldn't tell me why and we started arguing about it. He scared me so he left the hotel room."
"Okay. How did he scare you?"
"Just...he shouted."
"Then what?"
"I texted him, said I wasn't mad. We made up and had breakfast together." He sighs. "But then we started arguing again and he told me I should know when to shut the fuck up so I told him to burn in hell and then I left and used scissors in the car to cut myself."
"And that's when you were taken to hospital?"
Remington nods.
"Did Andy go with you?"
He nods again.
"D'you wanna tell me what happened in hospital?"
He shrugs.
"Did you have another argument?"
Remington nods.
"Okay. And he said something that upset you?"
"Yep."
"Can you tell me what he said?"
"That he sometimes wishes he went to-uh-to America and left me."
Abigail fills a glass with water. "How did that make you feel?" She asks, watching him pick up the glass.
Remington sips the water and shrugs. "Just bad. Made me wanna-makes me wanna hurt myself." He rubs his eyes. "'nd now he's on his own 'nd 'm worried 'bout him."
"Because he might do something to harm himself?"
Remington nods.
"Okay. D'you think he's in a bad frame of mind at the moment? Have you thought that maybe that's why he said what he said?"
"I'm too confused to think."
"That's okay. We're gonna work through this, I promise. How're your urges today?"
"Bad. Don't know how to deal with it." He puts the glass down. "Feel sick."
"How've you been sleeping?"
"Not good."
Abigail hums. "I want you to get an early night tonight, okay? I'm gonna send you a link to a playlist with calming piano music that I think will help you to fall asleep. When your urges get bad, focus on the bracelet and your breathing, just like we practiced earlier. Can you do that?"
Remington nods.
"You call me if you can't handle it, alright."
"Okay."
Andy's headache doesn't subside. He mopes around the house in a bit of a daze, checking his phone and putting it down in a worse mood every time he sees that Remington hasn't responded to his voicemail. At after midday, the man heaves himself out of the building and walks up into the woods, where he sits against a tree and closes his eyes, hoping the fresh air will help his head. He only opens his eyes when he senses a figure approaching. "Oh, fantastic," Andy mumbles, dissatisfied with who it is. "Phoebe."
"Didn't expect to see you here," she says, sitting beside him as though they're friends.
"The fuck you want?"
"So my mum knows Remington."
"Good for her."
"She's called Abigail."
Andy raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Good for her."
"She's a therapist."
"Good for her."
"She's Remington's therapist, isn't she?"
Andy wants to scream at her.
"I know she is."
"Will you piss off?"
"So here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna tell him I'm his therapist's daughter unless you let me be your new bassist for your songs."
Andy laughs bitterly. "I don't think so."
"Fine, then I'll tell Remington."
"Don't you fucking dare."
"So then I'm your new bassist," Phoebe says, "I look forward to working with you." With that, she bounds off, leaving Andy contemplating whether to kill himself or to run after Phoebe and kill her instead.
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