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“You’re special, Ali. You could be so much more. I can help you reach your full potential if you’re brave enough to try.”

“You’re so special, pretty girl.”

Ali looked into Victoria’s dead eyes. She heard those things before. No more than a puppet on another woman’s strings until the puppet master left Ali behind, cutting her loose and leaving her broken on the floor. There wasn’t a single part of her interested in playing those games again.

“Have a good rest of your day, Victoria. I will definitely not be taking you up on that offer.”

Turning on her heel, Ali set off down the street, providing no opportunity for further discussion.

Thank fuck she walked. She couldn’t have driven even if she wanted to. Not with her mind spinning out of control.

Around the corner, she ducked into a coffee shop and tucked herself into a back, out of the way seat. She needed to calm her racing thoughts. She would rather be home. But she doubted her ability to not get lost depending on how far she sank into her own thoughts. Her leg began its incessant bouncing. There was no stopping it or the memories crawling out of her subconscious. Each clawing at the other, determined to be the first to steal Ali’s breath.

But she promised Charlotte she’d let her know when she left.

Charlotte Davenport

Today 3:57PM

Made my escape.

The three little dots appeared almost instantly.

How’d it go?

Fine.

Promise?

She tossed her phone down haphazardly into her purse and dropped it onto the floor. If she told Charlotte what was happening inside her head, she would realize what a burden it was to be friends with someone like her.

“Sometimes your youth shines through. You need to learn to communicate.”

But anything she said would be wrong. What if she opened up and Charlotte saw how fucked up she was? She would see Ali was too much and never speak to her again.

“Your little tics can be so annoying.”

Her stomach roiled at the thought of reliving it all again. Rummaging through her own mind, she ignored the chaos in search of some kind of coping mechanism.

Focus on your breathing.

The container on the table full of mixed up sweeteners caught her attention, her skin began to itch.

“Really, you aren’t going to talk to me?”

Unable to resist, unsteady hands upended the container, spilling the little packets across the surface.

They needed to be put right.

She needed to put them right.

“Can’t we just have a nice dinner?”

Splendas first.

“Stop. Just stop. Control your thoughts for once.”

Stevias next, she told herself as her fumbling fingers struggled with the tiny packets.