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Walking into class, my wrists stung from last night. I chewed my cheek, nervous someone would see it. I hadn’t bothered to bandage it either, so it would stare anyone straight in the face.
Hunching my bag over my shoulder, I sat in my seat, sitting my bag next to my seat. I watched my Professor walk through the room, circling the seats.
Out of habit, I pulled out my notebook, starting to draw what I saw in the room. Other classmates, pictures on the wall, even Professor Pines himself.
My other classmates finally settled down, and Professor Pines was walking the room. I stretched, my arms going in the air. Professor Pines honed in on me, and I froze, pulling my arms down rapidly.
Pulling my sleeves over my wrists, I bit my lip as my Professor leaned over my desk. The strong scent of someone who was working with dirt was pungent in my nose.
“Mr. [—Last Name—], I’d like to see you after class, if you may.” Professor Pines spoke in a low voice, but pushed off my desk and continued surveying the room. I’d nodded and gulped nervously.
“That’s all. Class dismissed. Mr. ______, front of the room, please.”
I walked to the front once everyone was gone, half-fearing what he was going to say. Professor Pines straightened his paperwork, setting it down on my desk.
I stood at the front of the room with my hands clasped in front of me. “Yes, Professor Pines?” I asked, knowing what he was going to say.
Professor Pines turned towards me, spinning on his heel to turn my direction. “Do you need to speak about something?” Professor Pines’s voice was surprisingly soft, his eyes showing careful concern instead of hatred which I was used to once someone saw my cuts.
Hesitant, Professor Pines spoke again, “I saw your wrists in class, lad. I’d… like to help if you’d allow me.”
“My grand-niece used to struggle with some of the same harmful coping mechanisms. I’d understand more than you’d think.” Professor Pines extended his hands as he spoke.
Putting my hands into the elder man’s hands, I held my breath as he turned my wrists over and pulled up my sleeves. All of the underbelly of my arms were torn up, varying depths, most into the hypodermis layer or deeper. The man sucked in a breath, blinking in suspense. He turned my arms over again, looking to my face.
“By stars, ______, most of these should have stitches. How recent were these? I know how to stitch things up, I’ve been around enough.” Professor Pines looked to me, worry in his eyes.
I swallowed, a tad guilty for making him feel this bad. “Last night. Most of them. I’d had a rough patch.” I answered his question honestly, grateful for his wanting to help instead of hating me for what I do to make myself feel better.
“...Still can be stitched up. Do you want them stitched?” Professor Pines looked at me with a watchful eye, looking for a reaction.
“Not… really. I always end up bandaging them, but forgot this morning.” I mumbled, feeling shameful.
Truth was, I loved how the scars looked healed naturally. Even through shameful bouts, I’d always end up being a tad proud of them. The thick purpley pink bands were what I strived for.
Professor Pines nodded, noting my decision. “Then at least let me bandage your arms. I could not let you leave with that on my conscience.”
I nodded, not wanting another exchange like this again. I really didn’t wish for a different professor to see my cuts.
Professor Pines turned, making his way through the drawers of his desk. There was virtually anything you could have thought to have in there.
“So, what drives you to make those marks unto your skin?”
His question made me freeze. No one ever looked at why, just looked at what I’d done. “I suppose it’s a release of emotions, and it gives me a sort of… high from it.” I muttered, having to repeat myself for he couldn’t hear me the first time.
Nodding, Professor Pines grunted in triumph when he brandished a roll of bandage. “I always have at least one in here just in case.”
Making his way back to me, he extended my hands again and I set my hands in his.
He’d brought me over to the classroom sinks, having washed my arms. Professor Pines wrapped my arms securely, making the wrapping tight enough not to show through my sleeves. I think he got my connotation of not wanting to draw attention to myself as we spoke of my issues.
“So that’s your arm wrapped.” Professor Pines paused before going on, “My office hours are always open for you.”
I nodded unsurely, and smiled. Professor Pines returned my smile.
Checking my watch, I was ten minutes late to my next class. “I gotta go.” I said before rushing to snag my bag before I went out the door.