#Dysfunctionallove #Overcomingdemons #Mustread
I remember the first close call like it was yesterday. The blood dripping down the back of my leg, Travis’s wide eyes, and my stammering response, “I-I accidentally nicked myself.”
He never pushed the issue. He didn’t ask more questions; just rushed to my side, applying pressure via toilet paper to my wound. I know he saw the scars.
We never spoke about it—we still don’t speak about it. It was awkward enough being caught red handed, so we simply continued on with life as normal as we could.
Another topic we avoid? My disorder. In fact, we dance around the conversation all together. Travis is too much of a softy when it comes to me and always lets my mistakes slide—even when he shouldn’t.
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