Reborn in 1994: Internet Empire

22 Scars and Sketches

       Max ran back into the Fine Arts area and rushed through the crowd, aiming for the same room that he found her in. The crowds were a little more forgiving since it was later in the day. The noise was significantly more muted and everything was a lot calmer, to his relief. Once he reached the third floor, he could finally slow his pace to a brisk walk. The sun was starting to set and illuminated the hallway of the fourth floor in a somewhat calming way. This is his first experience with the word “calm” while walking along this area. He finally made it back to the door of the classroom that he had found Lina in. He gathered his courage and entered the room. The room was dim, as the sun no longer illuminated it from the window. The only light that he could see came from the crack of the door that he had left open. He wondered why the lights remained off, as he could clearly see the outline of Lina in the dark. He flipped the switch and looked over at Lina.

       “Lina? I-is that you?”

       She jumped again and quickly put her sleeves over her hands again.

       “M-Max! What are you doing here?”

       He noticed immediately that she had been crying because of the redness of her nose and eyes.

       “I just thought I could… convince you… are you ok?”

       She forced a smile and nodded at him.

       “Mhm! I’m fine!”

      Her smile looked incredibly sincere, and warm. Max almost fell for it with how believable her smile looked. However, Max knew better than to believe a smile in a situation like this. He was about to speak up, but she cut him off by attempting to pack her bags quickly. In her haste, she dropped a box cutter. It cluttered to his feet and spun a little which showed him the blade. It was covered in blood. His eyes widened as he looked back at her. She attempted to run past him, but he grabbed her by the wrist and stopped her. At this, she winced in pain, as she pulled away, and gripped her wrist. It was then that the pieces fit together in his head. The way she tugged on her sleeves, and the way she would never let anyone see her hands. He already knew what was happening.

       “Let me see your wrists, Lina,” he said calmly.

       She shook her head and pressed her arms against her chest as if she was a child trying to keep someone from taking something from her. Her face was twisted with despair now, as tears began to fall again. Max picked up the cutter, pulled in the blade so that it was not exposed, and put it in his pocket.

       “Lina, please… I’m here to help,”

       “Don’t...” she said softly.

       “This is no longer about the company now. I couldn’t care less about the company right now,” he said, with genuine concern. “This is about me being seriously worried about you. Now please show me your wrists.”

       She froze for a moment, before meeting his gaze. The desperation in his face and the seriousness of his demeanor clicked with her. She closed her eyes and slowly reached out her arm, her hand closed into a fist, with the palm facing the ceiling. He gently grasped the underside of her hand and pulled the long sleeve up so that it exposed her entire forearm. He sighed gently as his fears had been confirmed.

       A long column of horizontal scars ran up her arm in a messy fence-like pattern. Closest to her hands were the newest wounds, which were still so fresh that they were still letting out new droplets of blood. They looked like little orbs of red that ran along with a straight cut through her skin. A sharp pain had pierced Max’s heart as he looked at the wounds that numbered into the hundreds. Who knows where else she could have hurt herself, he thought. He had no idea that this was the kind of struggle that this artist was going through. While he battled in his own way, trying to get by in life, she was battling on her own, and she was losing. He knew at this point, that hers was a battle of the mind, and it was taking a toll on her.

       “Go ahead!” she yelled, sobbing as she did.

       “I’m sorry?”

       “You’re going to laugh at me aren’t you?”

       “What?” Max asked, confused.

       “Yeah… just like everyone else! You’ll tell me that it’s all in my head! That I just want attention! That I’m being really weak and should just suck it up! I’ve been told that all before Max, so please just spare me!”

       Max remained silent as she continued to break down in front of him. She fell to her knees and started becoming more audible, as her cries of pain and despair filled the room. It was almost too much for him to bear. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally quieted down. With a whisper under her breath, he could barely make out the words that she said.

       “I just want to die...”

       Max remembered in his previous life that in the year 2020, mental health had taken so many leaps in such a way that anyone who was depressed or suicidal had some sort of avenue to feel better. Even people who worked in schools were trained to know how to deal with these kinds of cases so that they could help people with mental health issues in their own times of need. But this was 1997, and as far as everyone else was concerned, mental health was a joke. One thing was certain though: Max was not about to let someone suffering like this be left alone, especially given the knowledge he had from 2020.

       He knelt down in front of the broken girl and tried to remember his training when it came to suicide prevention, which was held in a talk held in his old government’s hall. With that, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

       “It’s ok that you’re not ok,” he said in a spur of the moment.

       She looked up at him, confused.

       “What do you mean? If you’re just going to make fun of me, just leave.”

       Right, this was 1997, and this kind of language has not been explained clearly yet, he thought.

       “I’m sorry. What I mean by that is everything that has happened up until this point that has hurt you is the reason for you to cry. So it’s ok that you’re crying right now,” he said, trying to be calming, while also trying to make sense.

       “W-what?”

       He scratched his head as if trying to find the right words to say.

       “s**t! I’m sorry I’m not that good at this!”

       “Clearly...”

       “What I’m trying to say is that I believe you!”

       “Y-you… you what?”

       “I believe you, Lina. I believe that everything that has happened to you for you to do this to yourself is legitimate… a-and it's not all in your head.”

       She looked at him in shock.

       “R-really?”

       “Yes!” he said, with a determination to keep her from hurting herself further.

       She wiped her eyes and looked at him suspiciously. He picked up on this and wondered why in the hell this school was not quicker on the uptake of mental health. If their students were this new to the acts to preserve mental health, imagine the hardships of those with depression in less privileged schools. She looked at him closer, as if she was trying to find the lies behind his eyes.

       “Y-you… you’re serious?”

       “Yes, I’m for real!”

       She started to calm down, and really meet his eyes this time. At this moment, some of her hesitation with him had disappeared and was slowly replaced with comfort. This feeling was something that seemed almost alien to her, as she had difficulty finding the words to explain it. She shook off her initial disbelief and replaced it with relief that someone had finally decided to listen, and pay attention to her.

       “You know… you’re the first person to ever say this kind of thing to me,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

       “I can imagine,” Max replied. “This kind of thing is a joke to everyone else… Not me though,”

       She looked over at Max and saw pure kindness in his eyes. She paid attention to every little detail in this moment, as she knew that these kinds of things would not happen often if they ever happened again. She just decided to keep her eyes on him, as they sat quietly in the room together. Suddenly, he turned his head back towards her. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Lina quickly looked away.

       “So, do you want to tell me about it?” Max asked, still looking at the flustered Lina.

       “T-tell you about what?”

       “What brought you to do that to yourself,” he said, pointing to the scars on Lina’s arms.

       She quickly tried to pull her sleeves back down, but Max stopped her. He lifted the sleeves back up gently, so as not to graze the wounds.

       “It’s better that you let them breathe… at least for now,” Max said, with a gentleness that she was totally not used to.

       She turned a beet red, as she faced away from him.

       “It’s ok if you don’t want to tell me...” Max said. “But I’m here, so you might as well, right? I’m sure you have a lot to get off your chest.”

       Lina gathered all of the courage that she could and turned back to face Max again, determined to try and spill her heart to him: the first person to ever take her seriously.