Going through an obsession with Tonight is The Night I Die

Trigger Warning: Mentions of depression, abuse, anxiety, eating disorder/weight, self-harm, blood/injury

Two days before he was scheduled to go home, Remington was introduced to a therapist who looked old enough to be his mother. She had his questionnaire in her hand when she came in, greeted him with, "Hiya, Remington. I'm Abigail. It's nice to meet you." She sat down, flipped through the pieces of paper that were stapled together. "I don't expect you to tell me anything today, unless you want to. I'm just here to introduce myself and to let you know how the next few weeks are gonna go. Is that okay?" 

Remington nodded. She seemed nice enough, but he couldn't trust his own instincts when it came to judging people.

"I'll tell you a little bit about me first. I've been a licensed therapist for twenty-four years and I specialize in eating disorders. I'm also trained to deal with suicidal individuals, of course, and have connections to multiple groups that meet up weekly to share accomplishments and such. Now, I understand you came in an ambulance after having collapsed because of undernourishment. Is this a fair statement?" 

He nodded again. It felt weird, having someone speak to him like this, and a woman, no less. He had hardly gotten to know his brothers' girlfriends at all since Holly started becoming violent, was frightened that they'd all be that way, that they'd all attack him the way she did. 

"Okay. Please, don't be afraid to let me know if I overstep a boundary. According to your medical report, there were also many wounds on your arm. Is that correct?" 

Another nod. 

"And would you say these two factors are linked?" 

Yes, she made me. Remington shrugged. 

"Am I right in thinking this was a form of self-harm? Again, if you don't want to answer, that's okay." 

Remington was going to say it wasn't, but that meant he'd have to tell her the truth, so he nodded and thus, the lying commenced. 

* * * 

That night, Remington hardly slept. He didn't know what was going to happen once he was discharged, didn't know what his brothers would want to happen. For him to go home and pretend like this never happened, he imagined. They were like that, Sebastian especially. Emerson was so quiet nowadays, so reserved, that Remington hadn't a clue what he was thinking, but it hurt that he hadn't even tried to comfort him. It hurt that the only person who had tried was someone who he hadn't seen in three years, someone who had no reason to be here, who had no responsibility for him, no family ties to respect. 

Andy had always been like that, though. Doing whatever he could to make Remington happy, to keep him safe, even when he would gain nothing from it. In the past Remington had made fun of him for it, had called him soft and so on, but now, he just wanted to say thank you. 

He was weighed the next morning, and spent the rest of the day wishing he hadn't looked at the number. It wasn't like he wanted to be as thin as he was, but Holly had re-wired his brain into believing that gaining weight was an unforgivable thing that he should be punished for. He had broken so many of her rules in such a short number of days and by now, his arm was practically begging for it. If he wasn't in hospital, he'd already have done it - cut open the stitches and replaced them with what he know he deserved. 

It was a confusing through to have. He didn't class himself as a self-harming person, didn't imagine he'd ever willingly do something like that to himself. For more than a year, he'd done it because she made him, and only ever did it because she made him. He never wanted to, never desired the pain or the blood or the blade in his hand. He spent most of his life dreading it, and yet now he didn't have to do it, he had started wanting to. Started feeling incomplete without it. 

Loneliness was setting in, too. With no visitor since he made Andy go, the only people he had seen were doctors and Abigail, and as pleasant as they were, they didn't match up to Andy. He regretting the argument he'd had with the man, and considered asking his nurse to call him, but how would that make him look? Desperate? Needy? 

By the evening, he was crying again, and did all he could to make it stop when a doctor came in. "Everything okay?" The doctor asked. He was a middle aged man with thick-rimmed glasses, and was the one who Remington saw the most. 

He wiped his eyes hastily, nodded, apologised. 

"Not in any pain?" The elder checked.

Not in the way you mean. Remington shook his head. 

"Would you like me to contact anyone from home?" 

He shook his head again. 

"Alright. I won't be long, I'm just making sure everything's going smoothly, since we'll be removing the tube tomorrow morning." 

Remington swallowed. 

"And then you'll be able to go. I believe your girlfriend is coming to collect you." 

He nodded and gripped his hands tightly together. 

"You were introduced to Dr Bridges?" 

"Dr Bridges?" 

"Abigail." 

"Oh. Yeah." 

"Great. She'll be helping you through the next few weeks. It can be challenging to return to normality after something like this. If you have any issues, she's the one to talk to, is that alright?" 

He nodded.

"You've responded well to treatment and I'm confident that as long as you continue to work with Abigail and maintain a good diet, there shouldn't be any reason to come back here any time soon." 

Please, let me stay forever. "Okay." 

"We'll go through all of this in more detail tomorrow, of course. If you have any questions or worries, you can ask then. Have a good night, Remington." 

High chance of that.