Love To Hate You

by Isabelle Richards

  The soft hum of the train does nothing to lull me to sleep. I can’t get comfortable. Every position puts pressure on an aching joint or muscle. The car’s temperature is all over the place. I’m sweating, then I have chills.

  As I toss and turn, I replay the day, my stomach churning with each memory. Charlie’s words haunt me, echoing through my mind on replay. How the hell did I get here? A month ago, I got on a plane to escape my life for a little while. A couple of weeks to escape everything at home. To have fun for a change. The rest of the world does it, so why not me? But now I’m being blackmailed, I’ve lost close to a million dollars, and every single person in my life hates me.

  Desperate to tune it all out, I dig through my bag for my headphones. As I search through the pouches, I don’t find my iPod, but I do find a can of hairspray. Do they even make Aqua Net anymore? My heart races at the sight of it. Hidden in the bottom of the can could be the answer to my problems. Anything could be in here. Coke. Pills. There wouldn’t be much though, just enough to get me through the night.

  No. I don’t need it. I throw the bottle back into the bag, turn off the light, and try to go back to sleep. I try, but the can calls to me, begging me to put myself out of my misery. I flip the light back on. I might as well check it out. It’s better to know than not know, right?

  I unscrew the bottom of the canister, and a baggie of pills falls out. Opening the bag to get a closer look, I realize I have no idea what I’m looking for. I just took whatever they gave me. I never asked questions. I didn’t want to know. The less I knew, the better. It wasn’t real then. Sven always gave me something when I’d start to get anxious.

  I pour the small white pills into my hand. I stare at them for what feels like forever. All day long, I’ve been telling myself I don’t need any of this. The party’s over; I can walk away. And I can. I know I can. But after the day I’ve had, after everything that’s been stirred up, maybe one pill wouldn’t hurt. Just one to help me sleep.

  It can’t hurt to escape one last time, can it? Like Charlie said, running away is what I do best.

  “Frau? Frau? Wir sind angekommen.”

  I open my eyes.

  A large woman in a uniform shakes my shoulder. “Bitte verlassen Sie den Zug.”

  Sitting up, I look around, trying to remember where I am.

  The woman hands me my bag. “Sie müssen jetzt gehen.” She points at the door of my compartment.

  Guess it’s time to go. As I stand, I see a pile of pills on the table. I suppose that explains my grogginess. I pick up my bag and stumble out of the compartment.

  The world is blurry. When I squint to try to focus, I see double. I’m not sure what I took, but I’ve never felt like this before. As I walk through the train, I keep bumping into seats. Somehow, I make it out in one piece. Once I get onto the platform, I walk very slowly to the elevator. All I have to do is make it to a cab then to a hotel, and I can just go back to bed.

  The elevator is blocked off with caution tape, so it looks as though I’m taking the stairs. Looking down the stairs, I feel as though I have vertigo. It has to be three stories of stairs, straight down. The ground looks as though it’s moving beneath my feet.

  Clinging to the railing for support, I take one step at a time. Behind me, someone whistles loudly. I turn to look where it’s coming from as a man with a trunk-size suitcase comes barreling through. His suitcase clips my leg, and I lose my balance. I try to catch myself, but my feet get tangled beneath me, and I tumble forward down the stairs. Every time I flip over, I try to grasp onto anything to stop my freefall, but I’m plummeting so fast.

  My stomach colliding with a stone trash can at the bottom of the stairs is what finally breaks my fall. And perhaps a few ribs in the process. Someone helps me to my feet. A guard offers to take me to the hospital, but a hospital is the last place I want to go. I ask for a cab and the name of a hotel.

  I should have specified a nice hotel. To call the place the cab driver takes me to a budget hotel would be being kind, but I’m too tired and sore to argue. Twenty minutes later, I crawl onto the hard mattress and pull up thin, scratchy sheets and a blanket that smells like urine.

  Shooting pains wake me from a sound sleep. I’m sore from head to toe, but my stomach is killing me right where I hit that damn trash can. The fall must have done more damage than I thought. Stretching, I try to assess my injuries and figure out just how bad of shape I’m in. My back throbs, it hurts to breathe. Every joint feels swollen and hurts to move. As my legs move under the sheets, I notice they’re damp. Jesus Christ, did I wet the bed? As if I haven’t been humiliated enough, now I have to call the front desk and explain that I need housekeeping to bring me fresh sheets. My back twinges. I wonder if I hurt my kidneys in the fall. Or maybe I’m just now starting to feel that I fell down a hundred or so steps. I turn on the light.

  A pool of thick, sticky crimson saturates the sheets. Streaks of dried blood cake my legs, stomach, and arms. I look as if I stepped out of a horror movie. To be this coated, I must have been rolling around in blood for hours. A chill surges through me as I stare at the puddle. I’ve never seen this much blood before. Something must be very, very wrong with me. An internal hemorrhage of some sort? My stomach has been killing me for weeks though. Maybe I have a bleeding ulcer or something. They said I overdosed. I didn’t really believe them, but maybe I did. Then I took more. Have I pushed my body too far? Is it giving out on me?

  Fear crashes into me like high tide rolling in. My arms and legs start tingling. Is that from blood loss or from panic? I’ve made so many mistakes in the past month. Is karma coming back to me? I’m alone in a dirty hotel room in God knows where, and I’m bleeding like a sieve. I’ve alienated everyone I care about.

  What have I done? I reach for the phone but stop myself. The damage I’ve done is too severe. After all the things I’ve done and the horrible words I’ve said, there’s no coming back. There aren’t enough apologies to heal those wounds.

  Chapter Thirty

  Chase

  When Spencer and I get back to the room, Butch has her arm around Charlie.

  Charlie looks up at me with an ashen, tear-stained face. “I’m so sorry.”

  My heart sinks. “What’s wrong? Did something happen with Ari?” Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have left her.

  “She’s gone.” Charlie breaks down into sobs.

  Spencer runs to her side and puts his arms around his wife. “I don’t understand. The nurses said her vitals were good when we left.”

  Charlie wipes her nose with a tissue. “No, she’s not dead. She left.”

  “What do you mean she left? What happened?”

  “She woke up, and she was being such a bitch,” Charlie explains. “She wasn’t making any sense, rambling on and on about how you ruined her life. I’ve never seen her act like that. After everything you’ve done for her, I just couldn’t take it. I snapped. We got into a huge fight, and she ran out.”

  “She’s gone?” I yell louder than I should. “Where would she go? We have to find her. She can’t be out there in her condition. She just overdosed, for Christ’s sake!”

  Charlie walks to me. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed her like that. The doctor told us she might be irritable. I should have been more patient with her, but man, she was such an unappreciative snot!”

  I’ve never wanted to scream at my sister as much as I do right now, but I don’t. She’s obviously broken up, and with all her fertility crap, she’s all over the place emotionally. It wouldn’t have taken much to set her off. I take a deep breath and try to keep my cool. “She’s coming down from drugs. Her body and brain have been through so much. She’s not going to be herself. Not for a while.”

  “I’m not sure she has any desire to return to her old self. It felt like she had severed ties or something. Like she was just done with her old life,” Charlie says. “She was pissed we came after her at all. I think she’s lost and wants to stay that way.”

&
nbsp; If that’s what Ari said, no wonder Charlie lost her temper.

  “Well, that’s too fucking bad,” I snap. “Right about now, I don’t care what she wants, because she’s out of her freaking mind if she thinks she’s going back to those people. I will drag her ass, kicking and screaming, back home before I let her spend another day with them!” I look at Butch. “She has to have gone back to that house she’s renting. Where else would she go?”

  “Let’s take a beat and think this through first,” Spencer says.

  “I agree with Chase,” Butch says. “I think that’s where she’s going. It’s worth taking a look-see. Vic can drive you over there, but we all have to clear out of here. Since Arianna declined services, Dr. Gerber wants this room open for new patients. Let’s pack up. You all go with Vic, and I’ll get us hotel rooms. I’ll monitor her cards and let you know the second I see something.”

  Charlie huffs. “Fine. We’ll go.”

  “Don’t put yourself out or anything,” I sneer.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she retorts. “I want to find her just as much as you do. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  Charlie, Spencer, and I pile in the van, and Vic drives to the house. It’s huge. I can’t believe she would rent something like this for a quick trip. It’s a freaking mansion. What do they need all that space for?

  The front door is unlocked. I push it open and take a quick look inside. The place is trashed. It must have been one hell of a party.

  “Arianna?” I call as we enter the house.

  “She’s gone,” a voice says from the next room. I walk into the living room to see Sven naked, smoking a joint with an ice pack on his junk. “She got her stuff and cleared out.”

  Oh, I’ve been waiting for this moment since I heard he’d come back into her life. I lunge for him. I drag him off the couch, push him against the wall, and hold him up by his throat. He’s so baked he doesn’t even react until my hand cuts off his air supply.

  “Where is she?” I growl.

  I loosen my grip just enough for him to push out a few words. “I really don’t know.”

  “Wrong answer.” With my free hand, I punch him in the gut. “Let’s try this again. Where is she?”

  He coughs. “Beat me up all you want. It’s not going to change my answer. She’s gone, and she didn’t leave a forwarding address. We didn’t part ways on good terms, as you can imagine.”

  I can tell by the look on his face he really doesn’t know where she is. Since I don’t need him for information, I have no reason to go gentle. “Beat you up all that I want, huh? Don’t mind if I do.”

  I remove my hand around his throat only to draw back and hit him right in the wind pipe. Coughing and gasping for air, he doubles over. I kick him in the ribs, making him drop to his knees. I get two swift elbows to his kidneys before Spencer pushes me away from him.

  “Dude, enough.”

  “No. Not enough,” I bark. “After everything he did to Ari, I’m nowhere near done.”

  Sven spits blood, possibly even a tooth, on the floor. “She didn’t do anything she didn’t want to. She asked for it.”

  Spencer punches Sven in the jaw. “You’ll shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” He turns back to me and leans in. “The only thing beating him up will do is land you in jail, and then who’s going to look for Ari? He’s not worth it, but she is.” Spencer turns back to Sven, grabs a fistful of his hair, and pulls his head up. “How long ago did she leave?”

  “Fuck you,” Sven says with a grin.

  Spencer laughs. “You know what? You’re on your own, asshole. Good luck.” He releases Sven’s hair then walks toward the front door. He mouths to me, “One shot, then you’re out,” and walks out the front door.

  It was more than one shot, and Spencer was wrong—it was worth it. I could have stayed there and beat Sven to a bloody pulp, but I have bigger priorities. I need to find Ari.

  Vic drives us around the city all day and into the night. Dr. Gerber gave us a list of common places people go to score drugs, and we check all of them with no sign of her. Butch calls around eight thirty.

  “Do you have a lead?” I ask.

  “She just charged a train ticket to Sweden.”

  Charlie shakes her head. “She ran again. God, she’s a coward.”

  “When does the train leave?” I ask, ignoring Charlie’s comment. “Maybe we can catch her?”

  I hear Butch tapping on her computer. “The train left thirty minutes ago. There isn’t another one until tomorrow night, but you could catch a flight and be there in two hours.”

  Charlie puts her hand on my arm. “And then what? We chase her to Sweden, and she runs somewhere else? How long are we going to play hide-and-seek with her? Are we just going to keep running around the globe, getting our hearts broken every time she runs again?”

  “We need to find her,” I implore her.

  “She needs to find herself. You didn’t see her. She doesn’t even remotely resemble the Ari we know. I’m starting to think Dr. Gerber is right. The only way she’s going to pull out of this is if she does it herself. We can’t do it for her.” She leans her head on my shoulder. “Maybe it’s time you let her go.”

  From the backseat, Spencer puts his hand on my shoulder. “I think Charlie’s right. Ari knows her way home when she’s ready.”

  I can’t believe they’re all ready to give up on her. “Let’s just go to the hotel. I’m not making any decisions tonight.”

  “Can we eat first?” Charlie asks. “I’m starving, and to be honest, after the last few days, I could really use a drink.”

  We stop off at some restaurant Spencer knows. At the pace we’ve been going, food has been on the bottom of the priority list for all of us. Now that our mission has reached a standstill, Charlie’s clearly ready to make up for lost time. I’d swear she orders one of everything on the menu. When my food comes, I push it away. I can’t eat right now. All I can think of is Ari. Charlie’s points are valid, and all the literature I’ve read says that at this point, there’s nothing I can do but be there for her should she choose to get help.

  I’ve been at this crossroads with her before, feeling like my hands are tied and my options are nonexistent. Every time I’ve refrained from going to her, thinking that was what she wanted, I was wrong and it hurt her. I can’t do that to her again. I can’t just hop on a plane and go home with my fingers crossed that she’ll come home one day. Hell, that she’ll even be alive.

  Clearing my throat, I interrupt their conversation. “I’m not giving up. Charlie, you and Spence can go home if you want. I won’t drag you on this wild goose chase any longer, but I can’t leave.” I turn to Butch. “If you have other cases, you can go too. If not, I’d like to keep you on.”

  “Chase, I—”

  I hold up my hand. “It was a statement, Charlie, not the beginning of a discussion. I’ve made up my mind.”

  She looks at her plate. “You have to do what you have to do. But understand that I can’t… I just can’t.” Tears well up in her eyes. “I’m just so mad at her for putting us through this. I know she’s going through a lot, but she doesn’t always have to run, you know. She has a family ready and willing to be there for her, but she’s always needed to handle everything on her own. There was always going to come a time when something would be too big for her to handle, and this was it. I love her, but I can’t do this anymore.”

  Spencer puts his arm around Charlie.

  She pushes her plate forward. “I’m full. Let’s get out of here. I think I just need a warm bath and to sleep for a few days.”

  I pay the check, and we go back to the hotel. A somber silence fills the van on the drive back. I’m not sure what else there is to say. When I get to my room, I can’t sleep. Wrapping the comforter around me, I go out onto the balcony and watch the snow fall. Is she safe?

  The snow turns to rain, and I go back inside. After hours of tossing and turning, I finally fa
ll asleep. The sound of my ringing phone brings me out of a horrible nightmare of finding Ari dead, covered in blood.

  Groggy, I reach around for my phone. I don’t recognize the number on the caller ID, but I answer it anyway. “Hello?”

  “Chase.”

  A burst of adrenaline surges through me at the sound of her voice. “Ari? Are you okay?”

  “No,” she sobs. “Something’s wrong. I’m so scared.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “I’ve fucked up,” she says. “So badly. And now it’s too late. I’ve ruined everything.”

  “Everything will be okay, I promise. Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. We’ll fix everything.”

  “It’s too late,” she whispers.

  Oh, no. Please, dear God, let me have heard that wrong. I bang on the wall between Charlie’s and my room. We have to get this call traced. “It’s never too late for us, Blondie. We’ll find a way to make it work, I promise. Just tell me where you are.” I don’t hear any movement next door, so I bang louder.

  “In some fleabag hotel.”

  After banging on the wall a few more times, I walk across the room and open my door a crack so Charlie can easily get in. “Are you still in Sweden?”

  Charlie throws open the door. Her eye mask is pulled up onto her forehead, and her hair is going in a million directions. “What the hell, Chase? If you’re banging some floozy against the wall that’s right next to my head, I’m going to kill you.”

  I point at the phone. “Ari,” I mouth. “Trace the call.”

  She looks at me as though I’m speaking Greek. “What? I’m still half asleep. I can’t play charades right now.”

  I grab the pad next to the bed and scribble a note for her to get Butch to trace the call. Charlie bolts out of the room.

  “Ari, you still with me? Just tell me where you are.”

  “No,” she says, sounding woozy. “I’m cold. It’s so cold.”

  I’m not getting straight answers out of her, so I know I need to keep her talking and hope we can piece together something from the things she has said. “Where is your hotel? I’ll come get you.”