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I am a thirty year old boy, looking down in disgust at my chest. I shouldn't have those - I've dreamt of cutting them off a lot. But I don't have the money for that. I never had the support enough for that. My head feels fuzzy, like cotton balls had been stuffed down my ears. The only sound I process is the harsh thump, thump, thumpthump, thumpthump, of my accelerating heartbeat. All I can feel is the tightening in my chest as my eyes feel warm and my nose has that irritating pressure building behind it.
I am seventeen years old again, repenting in the confession booth.
I am sixteen years old again, hiding from my father and his buddies in the closet, the pungent smell of alcohol filling my nose.
I am six years old again, wondering why daddy is so angry at me for wearing khakis and a shirt instead of the pretty pink dress he bought me.
I am a thirty year old boy, sobbing in the bathroom of his best friend's house, begging for my daddy not to leave me again.
Please, I can hear my sniffling voice say. Please don't leave me again, I'll be good. I'll wear the dresses, I'll stop playing in the mud daddy, just don't leave me and mommy.
I can hear mommy getting angry again, yelling and wondering why I couldn't have just worn the dresses and played with Barbies instead of playing in the mud and wearing dinosaur shirts.
I can still feel the pain from a belt buckle snapping harsh against the skin of my back, and I curl further over myself. I sob harder.
I'm sorry daddy, I'll be your little girl. I'll bring daddy back, mommy; I'll be a good girl.
There are footsteps coming up the stairs.
They sound like my father's.
I sob harder, looking to the door with widened, fear filled eyes.
Please no, daddy; I-I'm sorry, I can hear myself sob. There's a moment before the doorhandle turns, and slowly someone goes to open it.
I am fifteen years old again, standing in the bathroom with a pair of scissors and my long brown hair is on the floor around me. I am sobbing as I apologize over and over again. I'm sorry, daddy. I didn't mean to, mommy. I'll let you braid my hair again, I'll let you paint my short nails and put makeup on my gaunt face, skin pulled taught over lanky limbs and bones I never grew in to. I'll let you put me in dresses and find me a nice Christian husband to settle down with. I'll go back to mass. I'll read my bible again.
And then there's a hand softly running through my hair, someone is holding me to their chest. He smells like smoke, alcohol...
He smells like home.
I am at home with Tyler Durden's arms around me.
I sob harder.
I'm sorry, th-this is stupid. I'm being a burden again. I push away from him, desperate to keep my chest covered but more desperate to get away from him. I can't let him down again. He'll leave me. Like daddy and mommy.
"Hey, come here. It's okay, you're home. You're at Paper Street, you're home,"
I want to scream. I want to punch, I want to kick at something; I want to break something, beautiful or not. I want to break myself. There's a kiss being pressed to my temple, arms holding me against a firm, solid, warm chest. It's warm, it's hot, the steam from the shower isn't helping this. The blood coming from my lip isn't helping this. The bruise on my eye is throbbing. I still taste the antiseptic.
Please don't leave me, I sob. Please, not again. I can't do this on my own daddy, I need someone. I'm shaking. My bones are hurting.
I want my daddy, or my mommy.
I want someone to stay.
"I'm not going to leave you, I'm right here. I'm staying here, I'm not leaving. I'm yours, you're mine; we stay for each other," He's so soft, it's so unlike him. It makes me feel special, worth something. For once in my life I feel like I'm worth something.
I clutch at Tyler like a lifeline, like if I let go he is going to leave. My sobbing is ugly, genuine.
I am thirty years old, clutching to my best friend as he holds me, promising to stay.
I love you, Tyler. I'm falling in love you with you and I can't stop it.
I need you, Tyler.
Do you need me?
Please, I can't lose you.
I can't lose someone else.
"I love you too, it's okay. Breathe, I need you to breathe baby. Can you do that? Can my boy do that for me?" His speech is slightly muffled. He must be smoking.
I nod against his chest. I'll do what he wants; daddy knows best. Daddy knows what I need.
Please let me be your baby.
Please let me be your boy.
I need to be held, I need a hand to hold to guide me through life.
Will you be that hand for me to hold, Tyler?
Thirty minutes later, and after a bath, Tyler has me held against his chest. I'm in boxers and one of his shirts. It's a size too big on me, it hangs low on my thighs. He sits up against the wall. My knees are on either side of his waist. Our chests are pressed together. I don't like that feeling. But it's okay, because I'm being held against his chest, and he's running a hand carefully up and down my spine.
"You're okay, baby boy. I'm here, you're alright. I love you, you know that?"
I know that now, Tyler.
I sniffle softly.
Everything is going to be okay.
He pushes me back softly to sit me up. I panic.
I clutch harder on to him.
He's about to shove me off and leave.
Please don't, I can hear myself say. My voice sounds so small.
You said you wouldn't.
"I'm not leaving, I need to bandage your temple,"
Oh.
That was still bleeding.
His hands are gentle, warm and calloused and they feel like heaven against my battered skin.
Tyler could break me down, make me hit bottom in the ugliest way and then build me back again.
And I'd let him.
Please, Tyler.
Please rebuild me, fix me.
Make me in your image.
I'll be good for you, I'll be your baby boy.
You can be my daddy.
You'll be my daddy, won't you Tyler?
I love you, Tyler.
I'm nothing without you, Tyler: you made me something.
"There we go, all better," His voice is soft, and he presses a kiss over the bandage. I nestle back against his chest. He kisses softly at the top of my head.
I love you, I say softly. My voice is broken and raw from sobbing and begging.
"I love you too, baby,"
Yes, I'm your baby, Tyler.
"Go to sleep, we have stuff to do tomorrow. I need my boy well rested,"
I'll do whatever you want me to do.
I'd fight the sun if you wanted me to.
I'd go to hell and walk through the flames of damnation if you wanted me to.
I love you, Tyler.
Babies don't sleep this well.