My heart flutters at the slightest hint of his smile. “Thank you,” I said, accepting his compliment gracefully, hardly daring to believe he actually liked what I said. I took a deep breath and continued to stare into his hardened eyes.
“The lowest point,” I began. “That’s easy. When my anxiety and depression got so bad that I lost control of my life. I was scared of everything. I couldn’t take care of myself. I lost sight of who I was. I had to enter outpatient therapy at a hospital to get back on track again and regain control of my life. And now here I am, stronger for it.” I waited nervously for his answer and next question once again…
(Sara/slightlystrangesimmer on my personal blog)
He lightly scoffs.
“You’ve been through so much in such a short life,” he meets your joined hands with his free one, holding it over your hand very gently. He wraps his fingers around you and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb as he lets his eyes soften for just a moment.
“What happened to you to cause something that strong?”
You’ve been through so much in such a short life. His words echoed through my mind. Oh Kai, I thought, if only you knew the half of it.
His gentle touch sent tingles up my spine and set fire to the pit of my stomach. I struggled to concentrate on answering his newest question.
“Oh my,” I began shakily. “The easier question to answer would be what didn’t happen.” I paused, thinking how best to explain.
“I was diagnosed as depressed and suicidal at age 15. At the point in my life that this mental and emotional collapse occurred, I wasn’t managing my condition very well. I had recently escaped an abusive relationship, packed up and moved to start anew, and recently started at a new job that was too stressful for me to handle. It all sort of snowballed from there until it got to the point where I was almost constantly breaking down and panicking. Finally when I admitted to myself that I wasn’t functioning or even really living at all, I sought out professional help. There have been darker moments in my past, though,” I finished with a dark chuckle, wondering what he would say next.
My Type is Homicidal 