She studies my face, and I already know she won’t like what she sees. I didn’t take the time to put on any makeup. I didn’t even attempt to go outside today. My mental health is slipping, and I can’t be bothered to mask it anymore. Maybe, I’m finally ready to be seen as I truly am. Broken shards and all.
“I think I’m going to recommend you go back to your original prescribed dose.” She jots something down and studies me again with those large owl eyes of hers. “And maybe a home visit, we don’t want another episode creeping up like last time.”
“No, that’s alright. Really.” The words are out of my mouth as fast as I can say them. The last thing I need is for my therapist to show up here.
She purses her over-lined lips. “Mallory, are you sure? You seem like you might need it. Have you been having any thoughts of self-harming?”
“No, really. I’m sorry. I haven’t been getting much sleep. The neighbor’s son has taken up the drums and has been keeping me up at night.” The lie sits heavy on my chest as I offer a smile, hoping it’s enough to keep her from coming over.
She hasn’t been my therapist for that long, but she’s the only one that I’ve found that actually has been tolerable to work with. Her heavy gaze continues to track my every movement, making me feel as if I’m being inspected under a microscope. One wrong response could land me into a grippy sock vacation, and not one I chose. Having already experienced that, I have no desire to repeat being dragged off into the land of no shoelaces and bland as fuck food.
Silence stretches between us as we delicately dance around my mental health. I can understand where she’s coming from. To have a patient commit self-harm on your watch can be damning to her profession. It’s a gamble to leave me to my own devices. And it’s not like my history grants me any sort of trust when it comes to being able to handle when things get difficult. I’m known to shut down completely. Honestly, I’m surprised that my thoughts haven’t carried me down the road of self-destruction yet. Maybe it’s this unknown figure that’s popped up in my life. Making me do things that are so outside of mycomfort zone. I’ve been living so carefully. My life a monotonous series of intentionally controlled decisions.
Decisions that don’t necessarily fill me with joy, but ones that keep me from losing my shit on a regular basis. I learned early in my recovery to avoid my triggers at all costs. To shove everything down deep into a box so I could get through the day. Hell, in the beginning it was more like get through an hour without completely spiraling. Those tools have served me well enough.
But with these dares, triggers have been flying at me with every ding of my phone. Every notification has my flight or fight ready to wreck my nerves. And it’s exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Wondering who could be on the other end.
“Very well, Mallory. We will meet at our normal time next week. But if anything changes, you call me or leave a message on my emergency line.”
The severe slash of her eyebrows and her penetrating stare makes me swallow hard. “Thank you.”
She exits the session with an audible sigh, like she’s disappointed in me.
Closing my laptop, I sit in silence, taking stock of the last few days and all the emotions it’s brought up. Still, the night in question seems just out of reach, buried deep in my subconscious. Every time I try to focus on it, a headache blooms rendering me useless and frustrated.
A low beep from my phone breaks my concentration, and immediately my body tenses. I know who it’s from.
Truth or Dare, Hazel?
CHAPTER 13
ACE
27 YEARS OLD
The hair isn’t enough,though she’s one step closer. That scowl she gave the phone camera is one I want to wipe from her pretty face, but it shows that I’m getting under her skin.
Dare.
She types back. Typical Hazel.
I dare you to go out onto your porch and open your present.
I watch the cameras I’ve placed as she reads over my message, then jumps up from her chair, running over to the window and peeking through the curtains.
Cute.
My heart is racing seeing just how well she responds to me and my demands. I’m not out there, though. I’m tucked away in her attic, gaining access while she was at the grocery store.
She cautiously opens the front door once she deems it safe and grabs the package I’ve left for her. I know what waits for her inside and I can’t wait to see her fuck herself with it.
The pink dildo in the shape of my cock tumbles out of the box as she rips it open. Stepping back with her arms crossed across her supple chest, she circles it like a shark before grabbing it. Seeing it in those delicate hands of hers has my cock hardening, aching to be touched by her like that.
“The fuck?” I hear her say loud enough for me to hear it from up here.
She weighs the toy in her hands and then finds the button that makes the toy begin to vibrate. I can see how she’s considering it.
Hazel grabs the phone and snaps a picture of the item I’ve given her, sending it to me moments later.
