My skull hurts when I touch it. I feel bruises coming in, sharp pains, but nothing like the nightmare I had last night.
I made him press different places on my head with lot of force, saying it was tense, but what started off as innocent became a scary eye opener.
“No I will not hit your head,” he says.
“It'll make it stop.”
“Make what stop? Does something hurt you?”
“The voices, make the voices stop.”
“What voices? What are they saying?”
“They want me to hit my head against the wall.”
“Don't do that, how many voices are there?”
“Maybe seven,” I guess.
“How long have you had these voices?,” he asks sounding concerned.
“Since as long as I can remember, maybe middle school.”
He looks at me, silently.
“Hold my head down against the floor, stomp on me,” I order him.
“I am not doing anything that may hurt you.”
“But you said you loved me, so do this for me.”
“No I'm sorry, I wont.”
I take his hand and place it against my head and start hitting it against my temple, he pulls his hand away.
“Please?" I plead, "just enough to knock me out, but not to kill me.”
“You won't do this for me? Can you put me in a mental institute?” I ask on the verge of tears.
He hugs me and kisses my forehead, both of us knowing that we have a long way to go before I'm better.
“I'm going to help you, I am just not sure how, but I will. I love you”
With that I knew my voices were worse than average, perhaps I am insane.
I touch the bruise again and dunk my entire body along with my head under the bathwater.