“Who what, Sadie?The chances of you ever having a normal life and coming off of your medication are slim to none.You need to find holistic methods that help you regulate from a non-medicated angle.Talking to others will help you find outlets you may be unaware of.”
He slides my prescription across the coffee table between us and sets his pad down, then waits expectantly for me to grab the slip.
Responding to more aggressive providers isn’t necessarily what’s happening.It’s just harder to hide my demons when he’s waving a red flag in front of them and calling their bluff.They goad me into responding and slap on a new pill—that’s not treatment, it’s chemical compliance.
Unfolding, I stand and reach over, snatching the slip without breaking eye contact with him.I will not be doing group therapy and singing shit campfire songs in a circle while crying.I can manage my medication at home, then next time, I’ll lie better.I'll slide on my mask and tell him everything he wants to hear until he changes the dose again.
“See you in two weeks, Sadie.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
The office is nestled in a three-story building with several other clinics, shops, and businesses.I do appreciate the ease of access rather than having to hunt down a specific floor and move through a maze to find the one I suffer in for an hour once a month—twice now, technically.
On my way down from the second floor, I pull my phone out and ignore hundreds of notifications in search of the only one that matters.I shouldn’t seek him out, but I do.He makes it easy to let go of things that drag me under; responsibilities, for example.After the other night, and his orders, I’ve waited for this day—for him to scoop me up from my appointment and cart me off into the sunset.
On the first floor, I swing around the stair railing then weave through faceless bodies coming and going from other businesses.They barely notice me, unaware of the monster in their midst.One who could bring them to their knees before cutting them off.There will be no relief in passing out, I’ll wait for them to come to then start again—the psychological torment would be agony enough.
Mr.Kensington will be first, then Chelsea from class, they both deserve to have their control stripped from them and brutalized.I might have told him I have a plan, and I do, but it’s not detailed.No, it’s short and simple: hurt, destroy.Whatever happens between point A and B is dependent on my mood—who knows, I might have them kill each other instead of doing it myself.
Stepping through a pair of frosted glass doors, a path framed with perennial flowers and shrubbery leads to the parking lot.It’s cool outside today, with low-hanging clouds threatening us with rain as summer heads our way.I love weather like this.It’s easy to burrow into blankets and sleep the day away—well, when I can sleep, that is.
Waiting for Elias, I note several vehicles still parked despite evening approaching—it’s four thirty-five, with many clinics having closed already.I don’t usually have my appointments this late, it makes my Uber rides more expensive, but it was the only one available.My last one was cancelled because I didn’t show up; in my defense, I was studying for an exam.Once I remembered, it was too late and I had to reschedule.
Speaking of, I need to put my next appointment on my calendar or I’ll miss that one, too.Though he’s never mentioned hunting me down, I wouldn’t put it past Mr.Kensington to send the police for a welfare check if I miss my next session.
It only takes me a few seconds to get the information saved and set on repeat—color-coded, and timed.I’ve learned that if I’m missing certain details, then I forget about my obligations all together.
“Like the outfit today, Sunshine.Were you aiming for homeless and cute, or finally ran out of clean clothes in your disorganized closet?”
Masking my smirk, his voice sends the crawling itch of beetles deep in my belly—where normal girls feel butterflies, I have insects seeking dead flesh.Spinning, I face him.He’s so fucking close I’m forced to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.Truthfully, I’m surprised Kate didn’t sense him and send me into a tizzy; she must like him today, can’t say the same about tomorrow.
Towering over me, he has on a lightweight jacket—black with plenty of pockets on the front.A dark gray Henley hides his chest, the tail hanging a few inches past the waistband of his dark wash denim pants.Practical, easy to put together and nothing to fuss over, but still attractive.Then there’s his salt-and-pepper hair, green eyes, and thick rimmed glasses I noticed the other night.
I’venoticedhim, you know what I mean?
A very different light casts over Elias, creating shadows in places I’ve not dared to glance at until recently.Areas he’s pinned me to, made me writhe and wiggle against, leaving me a scalding wet mess with nothing and no one to soothe me.
He flipped switches in my head the other night.Ones I’ve searched for since the day my thoughts were invaded.Whatever he did, the way he held me, commanded my mouth with his, silenced the noise.No anger, no voices or thrashing—I’ve even lost all desire to sink a screwdriver into his gut for having his hands on me.For the first time since he held me after I sliced my arms wide open in Canada, I felt…good.
Now that he’s here, I want it again and have no idea how to feed the budding addiction.All I know is Kate will hurt him.Therefore, my fight is now with her—not just the world.
“It’s called grunge, you dinosaur.”
“Whatever it is, it looks like you pulled these out of the garbage.”
Elias hooks one of his rough fingers through a frayed hole in my denim shorts, and tugs me closer.Instinctively I resist, yet he doesn’t relent.Instead, his eyes meet mine, silently scolding me.Embarrassment loses the race to lust when heat flares in my cheeks, my lips part, and feet move on their own volition.My platform combat boots make the slightest thud once I’m in range.The fishnets I’m wearing beneath crisscross up and down both legs and do nothing to stave off the chilly air.Never mind the shorts threatening to rip across the curve of my ass or my oversized hoodie hiding a crop top band shirt underneath.
Swiftly, my tongue swipes over my bottom lip, tasting the ghost of him.
“Don’t wear these outside anymore.Fishnets can stay.If you’re going to show off your legs, wear shorts that have a shelf life longer than twenty-four hours.These look like they’re about to turn into dust.”
What?Did he…
“Surely you’re not telling me what to wear.Now I have to clean out every Goodwill from here to New York.”
The digit he once had hooked in the hole of my shorts now dings under my chin and forces my attention.
“Go ahead.I have a buddy on the bomb squad who owes me a favor.Reducing each of them to rubble sounds like a regular Tuesday.Besides, a skirt would be better, so I can feel how wet you are instead of just smelling it.”
