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xandoria · 1 year

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TMNT headcanons

My headcanons about the turtle's mental health. I do not claim to be an expert on these: I just have my family members and research to go off of.

Raph has ADHD.

He has sudden outbursts: both of random information he forgot to mention and emotion. A wide array of hobbies that he switches between at random. Forgetting some tasks until he sees a reminder. Difficulty in remaining focused for long periods which causes friction between the team. Cannot remain still and quiet so often charges in first or instead. Trouble controlling volume. Getting sucked into a project or thought and unable to get off of it. Intrusive thoughts of anger, hurting others. Poor impulse control. Deep regret when the thoughts overtake him.

Leo has OCD.

He has to follow the schedule and plan or bad things will happen. He has to tap April's window 5 (five) times or splinter is going to break an arm. He has to ensure all fluid is purified before they drink it. He has to use chopsticks or he'll get heavy metal poisoning, even with ice cream and soup. He gets stressed and has to pace for exactly 7 minutes: no more, no less. He gets frustrated by these compulsions, and feels weak for needing to complete them so badly, and irritated that Raph and Mikey can just go forward with their days. But he has to do them or else.

Mikey has ADD.

He has issues listening to long plans and lessons. He can't sit still because he forgets he's supposed to. He forgets to eat and sleep. He loses track of one topic and blurts out a new one. He shouts sudden ideas. He doodles to help focus, but sometimes gets too involved in it and loses track. He finds random things in his shell he doesn't remember putting there because they were interesting at the time. He tries to pay attention but it is so hard for him. He gets irritated at himself, as do his bros, but they try to help him with charts and keeping his part of the plan simple. Not because he's stupid, but so he doesn't get as frustrated with himself.

Donnie has autism.

He hears things his brothers don't that annoy him, like street cleaners and the hum of florescent lights. He stops talking when overwhelmed. He gets into projects and won't eat or sleep. Being touched burns and hugs are impossible. He doesn't like strangers touching his things and his brothers have to put it back exactly right or he fumes. He has an organization pattern that must be followed. He has to have a schedule and panics when it changes without warning. Textures bother him greatly and going in disguise is torture for him. He gets frustrated by his restrictions even when his brothers try to follow them. Why do they not get it?

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ladymacbethisagirlboss · 6 months

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MY OBSESSION WITH JONATHAN SIMS HAS FINALLY CLICKED

When I first got into TMA I was struggling with really intense intrusive thoughts (I don't mean "cut your bangs" thoughts, I mean the moral scrupulosity kind), and the whole way through it, I always really identified with Jon

AND ITS BECAUSE HE'S AN OCD ICON

He spends 5 whole seasons desperately afraid of becoming a monster and at the time I was convinced the same was happening to me

Idk does this ring true to other TMA fans with intrusive thoughts because I'd genuinely love to know

#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives spoilers #ish #actually ocd #ocd #intrusive thoughts #ocd tw #mental health

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therealstonedelephant · 5 months

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all this debate about why feng xin is scared of tits even though he has had sex with a woman. i present the following explanation: he has ocd

like yeah, if i was an overall respectful and somewhat shy guy and then i involuntarily became the honorary god of sex and suddenly had to listen to thousands of prayers from women praying for sex-related things in detail, i'd probably develop some intrusive thoughts that i found distressing too

long story short, i don't think he was scared of women or nudity when he was with jian lan. i think he developed sex-related intrusive thoughts after the whole ju yang situation

#feng xin #tgcf #ocd tw #i also think this puts his negative reactions to the bathhouse and mu qing reciting the poem into perspective #particularly picking the fight over the poem #seems less like a reaction to being embarrassed and annoyed #and more of a reaction of 'i seriously need you to stfu right now'

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yuribeam · 3 months

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( part 1 ) (tag/comment what other superstitions you follow and I'll add them to the next poll!)

(follow the most often when the situation arises, or believe in the strongest)

#my posts #poll #polls #tumblr poll #tumblr polls #superstition #superstitions #sociology #psychology #rituals #culture #folklore #angel numbers #numerology #theater #ocd tw #psychosis tw #pagan

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distinctlywhumpthing · 1 year

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Unintentional 26

Previous—Masterlist— Next

CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization. Explicit language. Past surgical/medical whump alluded to, hospital setting. OCD, panic attack, Caretaker struggling. Impending raid/threat of Whumpee's (re)capture. As always, beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

Leo’s head ached, exhaustion weighing him down and diluting his expressions so that every time he tried to give Aiden a reassuring smile, the kid just looked more worried. Leo was bone tired. They both were. Delia had only told them one result of the MRI scan: there was no tracker, not even one that had been fried by the machine. So, in that respect, they were in the clear. She’d go over the rest later. Aiden was already shaking without an onslaught of information, tremors radiating through him, his gaze weary and unfocused.

For the better part of the last hour, Leo had been sitting in one of the unforgiving chairs beside the bed, trying to coax Aiden to relax. Reassuring him everything was alright, asking if he needed anything else, blundering around just shy of making the outright suggestion. Hell, at this point, Leo was ready to admit it was just so that he could rest himself without feeling guilty. Fifteen minutes and he’d feel better. They both would.

The day before, he’d torn up a whole first floor of scratched laminate and demoed a fireplace. His partner had noticed the push and asked him if everything was alright. He’d said he wasn’t sure, which now felt laughable. And like it had happened a full week ago.

Leo had finally given in and let his eyes fall closed for a moment when the announcement came over the PA. Code Indigo. All floors. Code Indigo. Aiden clapped his free hand over his ear.

“Code Indigo?” Leo repeated, fresh adrenaline pulling him to his feet. He tightened his grip on Aiden’s hand. “But you said—”

“It’s rare but it does happen,” Delia said, typing furiously into her phone without looking up.

Leo wanted to knock it out of her hands. They needed her right now. Aiden's shoulders had crept up to his ears and his grip on Leo’s fingers was shaky.

“But how did they find out? You don’t think—”

Delia finally put her phone back into her pocket and met his eyes. “They don’t know anything about him. It’s just a random raid.”

A strangled sound came from Aiden and he pulled his hand out of Leo’s. He would have slipped out of the bed too but Delia was faster.

“Easy, it’s going to be alright. We’re going to make a plan.”

Aiden turned to Leo, eyes wide and shining with tears. His bottom lip trembled along with the rest of him.

This poor kid had trusted him and now, in bringing him here to save his life, Leo might have just done the opposite. What if it would have been better to just let Aiden die on his own terms? Leo would never forgive himself.

He tried to swallow some of the panic and guilt climbing hand over fist up his throat. “Can’t we just make a run for the car?”

His sister shook her head. “They cover the exits and parking lots before they even make the announcement. That’s the fastest way to get caught.”

Aiden covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. “Nnn-no…no…no…nnno.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Nnn—please—” He caught Leo’s sleeves in his shaking fists. “Please…mmm’I….can’t….mmm…I….can’t….mmm…” He pinched his eyes closed, freeing some tears, and swallowed in a way that made Leo want to ask if his throat was hurting. When he opened his eyes again, they shone with tears. “Please.”

Fuck, as if Leo didn’t feel guilty enough already. “I’m right here. I won’t leave your side, I promise. We’re going to get through this. Delia’s going to help us and—”

Aiden turned to her instead, releasing Leo. Apparently, reassurance was not what he was after. “Mmm…please…mmm…I…can’t…mmm…can’t…mmm…” He gave up trying to find the word and held up his arm, hooking his index finger under the bandage to show her the rectangular scar on his wrist.

“Yes, I saw.” She lowered his hand for him, smoothing back the edge of the bandage. “Aiden, running away from your previous master means they’ll have your picture on the list of Defectors.”

Previous master. Meaning he was the current one. Leo’s stomach churned. “Delia, if they have his picture—”

“Nnno,” Aiden interrupted. He raised his arm again. “Nnn-not…mmm’me.”

Delia narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t do this to yourself…when you ran away?”

He shook his head vehemently, eyes darting to search Leo’s face for a moment.

“You’re not saying—I didn’t think—” Delia tented her fingers around her eyes, like blinders, as though suddenly everything was too much. She started shaking her head. “You’ve already—they did this to you?”

Aiden exhaled a sob, nodding.

Delia swore under her breath.

“What?” Leo wrung his hands, leaning to try to see Aiden’s face angled away from him. “What does that mean?”

Delia blinked at him, clearly distracted by whatever revelation had just passed between them. That he was still not privy to.

“Hello? We’re definitely running out of time.” It was impossible to see what was going on in the hallway with the curtains drawn around this half of the room. In his mind, it was already teeming with police or WRU agents or both. Any minute, they’d burst into the room and take Aiden away.

“Right. It’s good news…I think.” She kneaded her forehead with her fingertips. “Aiden, I’m hoping this wasn't some sanctioned WRU program…?”

He shook his head.

“How many people knew where you were, what was happening to you?”

He held up one finger.

“Okay.” She nodded. “And you didn’t escape on your own?”

Another no.

Leo leaned his weight from one foot to the other without taking his eyes off the vague location of the door behind the curtains.

“This is good. Sorry but…how much do you remember?” She was keeping her face carefully neutral.

Aiden didn’t say anything but Leo could see the muscles in his jaw working as he held Delia’s gaze.

“And from before?”

Tight nod.

Delia reached for Aiden's hand and he let her take it. “I’m so sorry, Aiden.”

His face wasn’t quite visible but Leo could tell he was holding his breath.

“We’re going to get you through this and then we can help.” This wasn’t just textbook bedside sympathy, she had that fire behind her eyes and determination in her voice he’d known his whole life. “It’s really good you told me.”

Leo looked down at his hands, pushing the tip of his thumb into the meat of the other palm. There was a speck of dried blood along the cuticle of his right index finger. Maybe from when Aiden had started bleeding through the bandages earlier, maybe from even earlier and he’d just not washed his hands thoroughly enough. He glanced toward the door again, anxiety twisting in his gut. Maybe he had time to—

“Hey, Leo?”

Aiden dropped his gaze as soon as Leo looked up. Delia was waiting expectantly.

“Sorry.” He lifted his hand to run through his hair but stopped just shy of making contact and let it fall.

“You remember the plan we talked about before?”

Aiden was watching him from under his eyelashes.

He tried to inject a little more confidence into his voice. “Right, yes.”

“Great. Just do everything I told you and you’ll be fine.” Delia patted Aiden on the shoulder before backing away.

“Wait, what?” Leo held up his hands like he could call time out on this whole thing. Seconds ticking away until they were found out. “You’re not staying?”

“I thought that was already clear.”

Leo shook his head. She couldn’t possibly leave.

“I have other—” Her gaze flicked to Aiden and back. “Other patients who need me.”

“What?”

Aiden shrank back, almost imperceptibly, because he’d raised his voice. Shit.

“We don’t have time for this.”

He clenched his shaking fingers into fists but then unclenched his right fist when he remembered the blood on his finger. “Wait, but what do we do if someone comes in? What are we supposed to say?” Leo couldn’t even look at Aiden. Did not want to see just how much this was definitely making everything even worse for him. He rubbed at the speck of blood with his other fingertip but it wouldn’t come off.

“Leo.”

He met her gaze, switched to trying to scrape the blood off with his fingernail. “What about you? What happens if they catch you? I thought this was a once-in-a-blue-moon thing—wait, Delia, is this a fucking felony?”

At some point, she must have stopped backing toward the door because now she held out her hand, reaching for him. “Leo, just take a breath—”

He dodged her. “I just—I need a minute.” Aiden looked confused at best and rejected at worst. Leo turned away and made a beeline for the bathroom.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He blinked and was already scrubbing at his fingers, rubbing the soap into his cuticles and under his nails. He wasn’t even counting, just mindlessly washing.

No, he really needed to not lose his shit right now.

He couldn’t get stuck in this loop.

Not.

Right.

Now.

Leo forced his lungs to fill with air, rinsed the soap off. Toweled his hands dry.

Just one proper hand washing and then he had to go.

One, two, three, four pumps of soap.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three—

“Leo…”

He hadn’t even heard the door open.

Delia stilled both of his hands with one of hers. “How long?”

“What?” Leo let her rinse each of his hands under the water.

“How long have you not been taking your meds?” She turned off the tap and handed him paper towels.

He couldn’t meet her gaze, focused on absorbing each errant drop of water. “A couple weeks? I’m fine, I managing it.”

“I’m sure you were but now it’s caught up with you.” The careful tone his sister used revealed just how overly defensive his had been. She took the soggy paper towels out of his hands and dropped them into the bin. “This is a lot and it will continue to be a lot. You need to take care of yourself if you’re going to help him.”

Leo flexed his fingers, trying not to inspect them too closely. “Yeah, okay. I know.”

“Come on, I really need to go and you’re going to be fine together. This is going to work.” She led him out and handed him the backpack she’d been forward-thinking enough to pack at his condo. “You know what to do. I’ll let you know when it’s all clear.”

As soon as she left, Leo wondered if he should have said a longer goodbye. Just in case. He had no idea what repercussions she’d face if caught, not that he had any better idea about himself. Aiden was the only one that really mattered and they needed to get going on this plan.

Aiden was watching him, not quite warily but carefully, as he set the backpack beside him on the bed and started pulling out what they’d need. He ignored the compulsion to keep reflexively checking the door, tried to make his movements efficient but not visibly rushed.

“I’m sorry,” he said at the same time Aiden said, “Sorry.” Aiden huffed and dropped his chin. He was still shaking but had his mouth set in a determined line. Delia must have instilled a little more confidence in him about their plan to hide in plain sight.

It would work.

It had to work.

Leo zipped up the half-empty backpack and dropped it beside the chairs. “Hon, you don’t have anything to apologize for. None of that—my reaction—was your fault.” He ran a hand over his hair, sighing. “When we get home, I can exp—”

“Leo?”

There was so much care in the way Aiden shaped the air, as though the syllables might crack under too much strain. He kept his timbre soft, hesitant about borrowing sounds he didn’t feel he had any right to but in voicing them finding his own version of ‘Leo’.

No way he could chalk this utterance up to his own imagination. A part of him still couldn’t believe Aiden had actually said it. He resisted the self-indulgent urge to ask the kid to repeat himself just to hear it again, to underline the significance of the moment. Instead, he cleared the lump in his throat and tried to sound casual. “What is it?”

Aiden didn’t react to the fact that Leo hadn’t managed to hide much of the emotion in his voice. He had pulled the sleeve of Leo’s old hoodie into his lap and was running his thumb over the frayed edge of the sleeve. When he raised his eyes, they were brighter than Leo had ever seen them. “Home?”

“Yeah, home,” he whispered back, not sure how he was able to even find his voice this time.

Aiden pulled the hoodie on, settling into it like it was a hug.

Leo couldn’t believe the old thing was so meaningful but he wasn’t about to argue against anything that made Aiden feel safer. Especially considering the threat they were about to face. He held one of his beanies out, almost dropping it when Aiden bowed his head instead of taking it to let Leo put it on for him.

He couldn’t quite blink all of the tears out of his eyes in time but Aiden kept his head down anyway, busy gathering the extra length of the sleeves into his fists.

How could this kid not see how much of a hold he had on Leo already?

When the door opened just a few minutes later, as they pretended to sleep across the room from each other, Leo was glad Aiden had a piece of home—a piece of him—to hold onto.

No matter what happened next.

Previous—Masterlist— Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @mazeish @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess @meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump @aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree

#bbu #bbu whump #box boy rescue #box boy whump #pet whump #pet whumpee #whumpee thinks caretaker is new master #whumpers trying to get whumpee back #caretaker needs caretaking #ocd tw #anxiety tw #panic attack tw #meds tw #institutionalized slavery tw

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rory-is-hiding · 1 year

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god picked a little girl and he made her terrible. he made her disgusting.

i am all grown up now but washing my hands raw just doesnt do the trick, so i purge my soul in other ways. i wish that the sin could fall out of me. like a bad dream does while im brushing my teeth, and by the time i spit it all out i cant remember what happened anymore. i am ruined and decaying and the flesh rots off of my frame but i can be your saviour. and maybe, if i do this enough times, i can be forgiven.

#poetic #complex ptsd #poems and poetry #ptsd recovery #ptsd poem #love poem #mental health #sad poem #my poem #prose poem #actually ocd #moral ocd #ocd tw #abuse cw #abuse tw #abuse recovery #child abuse #childhood ptsd

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man-made-misery · 1 month

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Having ocd means that sometimes my brain takes a totally normal thought and then turns it into an obsessive anxiety and its hell in here

#I've had ocd since i was 13 #and the levels of severity get better and worse from time to time but oh lord she's back now #all i want for christmas is for my brain to chill the fuck out #ocd tw

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pumpkin-spice-whump · 9 months

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I Can't

I wrote this while listening to What Was I Made For? from Barbie, and I think it's very fitting. If you saw the original title for this no you didnt.

CWs: bbu, ocd, referenced noncon, blood, suicidal ideation, grief, jesse makes a choice, immediate follow up to this

Masterlist

———————————–

Mrs. Perez looked like she’d seen a ghost. Her hands flew over her mouth before she quickly looked every which way, eyes wide.

Heat flooded Jesse’s cheeks. He swallowed, pushing himself into a crouching position. It was the best he could do. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Perez,” he said hoarsely. His throat ached. “I’m so sorry. I’m -- I’m going home now. I’m sorry to bother you.”

He didn’t even take one step before Mrs. Perez was out the door, arms around him and practically holding him up.

“What happened to you?” she asked, horrified.

He shook his head, trying to pull out of her grasp. This was a huge mistake. “Nothing. Her grip on his arm tightened and he froze instinctively, lowering his head.

“Jesse,” she said urgently. “Look at me. What happened to you?”

Tears blurred Jesse’s eyes as he looked at Mrs. Perez. He felt his face crumple slowly, chin dimpling and eyebrows furrowing. A huge sob escaped him at the same time his knees gave out. He felt Mrs. Perez struggle to shift under him and take on more of his weight. An apology was at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t speak around his cries of heartache and pain.

Once inside, Mrs. Perez set him softly on the couch. He winced, gritting his teeth as he adjusted himself.

Mrs. Perez left and then appeared back in his line of vision with a glass of water, which he drank hungrily, gasping for air. She sat next to him, taking the glass when he tried to stretch and set it on the coffee table just out of reach.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, exhaustion taking over.

Mrs. Perez said nothing, just looking at him up and down. She sighed. “Okay Jesse. Do you want to talk first, or get cleaned up first?”

“Cleaned up?”

“Well, honey, you’re clearly in a lot of pain. I can see some injuries, but I can’t see them all. Can I run you a bath and fix some of them?”

His eyes welled with new tears, and Jesse tried his best to wipe them away. He twisted his collar around four times before answering. “Yes please.”

Luckily Mrs. Perez had a guest bathroom on the first floor, not far from where they were sitting. She helped Jesse up from the beige couch, and he paled when he saw the blood stains he left behind.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Perez,” he rushed. “I -- I’ll clean it for you. I can clean it, I’m so --”

“Hush,” she ordered, helping him take the steps to the bathroom. He stopped his protests, only because he had to grit his teeth to keep quiet.

The bath was already full, the water steaming. Jesse kept his eyes on the ground. He slept through the morning, so now he had to avoid mirrors the rest of the day to ensure the girls’ safety.

“Can you undress yourself?”

———————————–

“Can you even undress yourself?” Mrs. Bakeman laughed. Jesse tripped over his pants, hands shaking.

He preferred when she did it. When she ordered him to, it felt like he was being marched to his own death. An unseen force forcing him to his own demise, laughing at the humiliation of making him strap himself to the electric chair.

He hesitated for a moment, hands hovering over the waistband of his boxers.

“Stop stalling,” she demanded, suddenly angry, “and get over here. Now.”

Jesse closed his eyes and pushed them to his feet, closing his eyes as he felt her gaze wash hungrily over him. The shame never went away, no matter how many times he’d done it.

“Yes, Heather,” he breathed.

———————————–

“Please,” he begged, eyes shut tight.

“Jesse,” Mrs. Bakeman said. “You’re right here with me. In my bathroom.”

He hated when she took him in the shower. The shower was his only safe space afterwards, and if she was there... it was ruined. He had no safety afterwards. Nothing helped.

“Okay,” he whispered, stealing himself for what was bound to happen.

“No. Jesse, open your eyes.”

He would cry if he opened his eyes. She got so mad when he cried. Couldn’t she wait until they were in the shower and couldn’t tell the difference? He repressed a sob.

Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good.

Jesse opened his eyes. To his horror, tears fell immediately, blurring the brown walls and beige tile.

But the bathroom wasn’t brown, it was white. Gray walls and white tile. He took comfort in the gray, staring at it when he was being hurt and used and reminding himself again and again that there’s color, look at the color, it’s not just white, you’re not there. Just be good be good be good be good --

Mrs. Perez smiled in front of him. “It’s me Jesse. You’re in my house. Can you hear me?”

Jesse felt himself nod.

“I’m sorry I said something that put you off. Do you want to wait on the bath?”

He shook his head. The blood was drying and sticky, reminding him with every movement what had happened. He wanted it gone. He wanted it all gone. He cleared his throat, pushing aside his overwhelming anxiety. “Help me please.”

He looked at the walls, at the patterned shower curtain, at the aged brown hands gently easing him out of his sweatshirt. Anything to remind himself who he was with.

Jesse’s face reddened with shame when she pulled down his pants. He knew he was covered in bruises. Blood. Everything the guests left on him. His repulsiveness and lack of worth was on full display.

“Into the bath.”

It was near agonizing, lowering himself down that far and then sitting on the hard porcelain. He waited for the heat to relax his tense and sore muscles, sighing in relief when Mrs. Perez began to pour water over his chest and back.

Jesse craved this. This tenderness. The mercy, the compassion. Everything inside him ached and yearned for this very thing, and he had no living memory of ever receiving it. His heart twisted in grief.

———————————–

“Okay, messy boy. Tilt your head up and close your eyes.” He did, but a protective hand still worked as a barrier on his hairline, ensuring no stinging soap got in his eyes.

“Mom, look! I’m an old man!” he announced, holding his wrinkled fingers in the air.

“You’re the cutest old man I ever did see!” she laughed. “Okay, one more time.”

“Mo-om! I don’t want you to wash it again!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you swam in the mud. Come on, close your eyes.”

———————————–

Jesse gasped and opened his eyes at the sharp pain in his head. Tears streamed down his face. He blinked, wiping away his tears. His fingertips were wrinkled.

“Are you alright?” Mrs. Perez asked. He nodded wordlessly. “Come on.”

After his visible wounds were taken care of she helped him dress in a too-large pair of pajama pants and hoodie that she explained belonged to her late husband. It was strange. No one had ever helped him put clothes on before.

Jesse sat on a couch in the den this time, insisting she put down a towel first.

She sat across from him, hands in her lap, unspeaking.

Jesse twisted around his collar four times. He sang Abi’s favorite song in his head. Did he turn off the oven? No the oven wasn’t on today. Did he knock into it when he was in the kitchen? Is the entire house burned to the ground? He took a deep breath.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked anxiously.

Mrs. Perez shook her head. She pursed her lips. Jesse took another deep breath.

“I’m not letting you back in that house,” she stated.

Jesse’s chest flooded with heat. Cold, icy hot heat. It burned. “What?”

Mrs. Perez leaned forward. “Jesse. I know what happened. I -- I’m sorry to say that I know it’s been happening. And I’m ending it. You’re not going back.”

Jesse shook his head as she spoke, panic starting to claw at his insides. “No. No, I have to go back.”

She knitted her brows, her gaze holding so much sympathy and pity it almost hurt to see it. “You don’t.”

“Yes, I have to!” he begged

“Then why did you come here, honey? If you wanted to go back?”

He put his head in his hands. “I don’t want to,” he wept. “I don’t want to go back at all. But I have to.” He heard Mrs. Perez stand, her sure footsteps thumping dully on the rug. Her weight settled next to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders.

“You remember what I told you before.” It wasn’t a question. “The children will be okay.” She ignored his trembling shoulders and shaking head. “You can’t keep living like this. You can’t go back there to be tortured and I won’t let you. You don’t owe those people anything.”

Jesse wiped his face, looking at Mrs. Perez with red and stinging eyes. He was so tired. “No,” he relented. “But they’re all I have. All I have in the whole world. I -- I was made for them. I told you that I’m all they have, but that’s not true anymore. But they will always be all I have. All I will ever have. They -- they’re my girls. I love them more than anything, Mrs. Perez, and that’s not just -- just because I’m their boxboy. It’s because they’re the only thing that’s been keeping me going ever since I arrived in that forsaken house.” Jesse sobbed, taking the hand that was offered to him and clinging to it like a life line. “I can’t leave my entire world behind,” he whispered. “I can’t leave them.”

Mrs. Perez held to him tightly. “Jesse… I understand. Now please try to understand me. You came here because you know that I can help you get out. You want help. You need help. I cannot send you back into that house to be abused. I cannot send you back to be tortured. Because this,” she indicated to his suffering body, healing scars and bruises, “this is torture. What they did to you is torture. And it’s my greatest heartbreak that I couldn’t end it when I knew it was happening. But you came to me. And I’m ending it now.”

She slowly raised a hand and wiped a stray tear from his cheek. Jesse didn’t know why either of them bothered.

“I understand what you’re saying about the children. I really do. But please. They are not all you have. Especially not if you trust me enough to do this. I know you don’t want to continue the life you’re living. If you let me help you, you will lead a new life. One worth living. One free of pain. One that you make yourself. One where you have more.”

He swallowed, gasping for air. It hurt to cry. Everything throbbed, inside and out. Jesse’s misery was suffocating. His suffering never ending. It would never get better for him. The only people that made his life worth living were so fleeting in their presence. Every other moment alive only made him want to die.

“I don’t know how,” he choked out mournfully.

“You won’t be alone.”

“I’ll miss them.”

Mrs. Perez rubbed his shoulder where she knew it wouldn’t hurt. “They’ll miss you. And you will both carry on, knowing the other is safe. It’s worth it, Jesse.”

He was being crushed. He wanted to be crushed. Living was too difficult. Being him was too difficult. And the thought of going back inside that house was the worst part of it all.

Jesse nodded. “Okay.”

———————————–

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