‘I don’t know if it’s the hair, but you look pale and washed out, more than usual.’ My father interjects into my thoughts as he regards me over his paper. I keep my eyes on my plate and don’t respond. Knowing I literally have no ability to behave normally or speak right now.
‘What time did you get in, we didn’t hear you?’ He adds a little more forcefully, an obvious tone in his voice this time.
‘I don’t know, I didn’t check.’ I answer quietly, honestly, as I hadn’t checked the time. I push my plate away and make a move to get up, knowing more is to come if this was how dad is starting the morning, and I literally cannot handle it right now. My body is fighting me in the worst kind of way, the nausea strong. I should have stayed in bed and got the rest of this booze out of my system, before attempting to stand upright.
‘Did you come home drunk?’ His tone has definitely notched up a few octaves in the anger department and I sigh. Good timing to be a forceful dad; years of leniency and now he chooses to get harsher.
‘Dad come on, I don’t feel good. I think I’m just going back to bed.’ I sigh, trying to stay passive and not get mad at him right now. I see my mom throw me a shady look and then at my dad, that translates to ‘She looks like she was.’
‘I asked you a question and I expect an answer young lady!’ He snaps at me, makes me and my mum jump with the sudden harshness of it. He never snaps, like ever, and I instantly bristle with that good old fucking temper of mine defensively. A rage, that he has always let me be, let me behave like a pampered little bitch, and now he has the nerve to try and control me, at twenty years old!
‘Yes, okay. I got drunk, I came home and I vomited in the garden. Are you happy? Cos I’m fucking not, and I don’t need any god damn lectures over this shit right now. I think someone spiked my drink, so I am going to my god damn bed!’ I sound like the spoiled little brat who told her parents to go fuck themselves months ago, and ran to New York. I grimace that I am being that same little shit head right now. I hate that they pretty much let me away with any kind of behaviour for the last six years to overcompensate what that sick fuck did to me, and then when they did try and reel me in, they let me run away, and left me to it.
I hate that they always let me away with everything, and this morning is no different. My dad just sitting looking at me like he thinks he shouldn’t keep pushing, now that I snapped back, and my mom has started to cry. I wish they would just do what they did with Ben, or Rylanne, and go crazy psycho at me for getting trashed and fucking myself up, let it out , then let me go to my room to suffer, ground me and speak no more about it. But they won’t, they will make passive aggressive remarks, and then I will never hear the end of it, making me feel guilty endlessly.
‘Sophie?’ My mom’s emotion strained voice catches me, looking up to me, I see moisture glazed eyes and sheer disappointment on her face and I can only hang my head in shame again. I slide away from the table, avoiding my father’s angry glare and make a move to leave.
‘I thought you were trying?’ My mother’s pained voice hits me hard in the heart. She obviously doesn’t believe that I suspect someone spiked my drink, all they see is Sophie, going off the rails again.
Still. Whatever.
‘I am trying… Sometimes trying entails falling off your horse once or twice. Or sometimes, some shit head comes along and spikes your drink for shits and giggles and then your family don’t fucking believe you.’ I snap at her, hoping to god going back to bed calms down the overwhelming nausea, rage, and pounding head, so I can deal with my parents later.
‘Sophie stop right there.’ My father’s commanding tone is a rare thing, I halt obediently, more from shock than anything, that he might actually try and control wild little me in some paternal way this time, and not let my past make him wimp out. He gets up and comes to meet me at the table where I am standing
‘I know you are trying, and I trust that Emma is taking good care of you, but I really think we should consider a live-in establishment for a little while, until you can stop drinking. I think it’s time we started putting our foot down with you, because enough is enough.’
I blink at him in sheer stupification. I am pretty sure my bottom jaw hits the floor and my mom just sits there like a god damn zombie, in silence. This was so not what I had in mind when I thought I wanted them to set more boundaries with me. I have no idea how to react.
‘You think I have an alcohol problem? You’re talking about rehab?’ I lift my palms in complete disbelief.
‘Dad? Mom?’ I turn imploringly.
‘I didn’t drink for like over three weeks after I came here, almost four, an alcoholic wouldn’t go more than hours. I fucked up once, and you want to condemn me to a fucking rehab centre. What the hell is wrong with you?’ My temper chooses to dominate over wounded pride and pain.
Miss Predictable!
‘I think it’s more than booze Sophie. I don’t know what else you kids are taking nowadays, but saying you were spiked….. Did you take drugs?’ He is deadly serious, and it rips a hole right through my heart. Betrayal at its worst.
‘Drugs? Are you fucking kidding me? You know how I feel about drugs dad! Why are you even saying this to me? How can you even think that of me?…. Have you even seen me the last few weeks, seen how different I have tried to be?’ I am yelling, emotionally bawling at him. Rage and hysteria breaking free.
‘We love you honey and we just don’t want you to go the same way Leila did, she was so much more street wise and stronger than you, and we’re scared. We see you struggling and this is proof, that despite trying so hard, you cannot do this without real help.’ My mom is now beside me, gripping my arm and crying over me in sheer desperation, it’s like I have died and they have a doppelganger standing in their midst or something equally fucked up. I really don’t even know how to react to this right now.
‘This right here is why I left the first time!’ I snap harshly, yanking my arm free.
‘I can’t do this right now, I’ll end up saying something I regret, and I need some space. You two are out of your heads if you think I need to go to rehab…Talk about one extreme to the other dad…..You either leave me to my own devices, and seem scared to say boo to me, or you want to put me in bloody prison for twenty eight days to dry out among the actual alcoholics. Do you have any clue how fucked up this is?’ I pull away and march out to the hall, feet stamping with rage as I make my way to the stair.
‘You’re not to leave this house young lady. I have a call to make, a friend who runs a good place. You are going and that is final Sophie. I won’t put your mother through this anymore.’ My father yells after me, which only makes me madder. I turn on them screaming from the stair.
‘You can’t keep me here… I’m a fucking adult. When are you all going to realise that? You can’t have me locked in a rehab centre when I don’t even have an addiction. You’re crazy…. All of you. You can all go the fuck away, and leave me alone.’ I keep running, trying to ignore the bellowing of my dad below me, forbidding me to leave. I can hear my mom sobbing and him yelling to get him his phone and I just want to scream. There’s a smash as he loses his shit, and something gets thrown across the hall in rage. It’s more than enough for me.
Memories of a father who used to smash things over the top of me, hold me down, smack me around when I disobeyed him. That stubborn head goes on, the blinkers are attached and my heart pounding through my chest goes into overdrive.
I know he has no chance of stopping me. Even if he does barricade the doors, I have been escaping this house since I was fourteen years old and sneaking out to see Arry and his friends for years; they aren’t about to lock me in, when I haven’t even done anything wrong. I am not staying for some crazy volatile outburst.
I’m not going to rehab, I don’t bloody well need it, but I know it’s not that simple. I have known girls whose families had them drugged up and dragged there, by burly men in white uniforms who gave zero shits about whether they had an addi
ction or not. Parents paid a lot of money to get their kids clean, and if they are paid to keep you for a full twenty-eight dry out days, then you sure as hell are not going to get out. The thought of one of those places sends the fear of god through me.
I fling on some jeans and a black sweater over sneakers, a beany hat on my head to tame my hair, throw essentials in a rucksack and pull it on my back. Going through the same motions I have done twice in my life, like an automatic response to an internal trigger.
Swiping my handbag to throw in my phone and purse and hooking it around my neck, I walk into my bathroom, pull up the huge window and climb out onto the old tree that grows up the side of the house. I’ll be damned if they are going to do this to me, I won’t stay here, I won’t let them try to lock me up or hold me down this way. Climbing down in sheer rage, before I hit the ground running. I know where I’m heading and it’s anywhere but here.
Chapter 13
I sit at the bus station, waiting for the coach to the city anxiously, and watching the huge clock over the ticket box tick slowly by. I have been watching the oncoming arrivals like a hawk for any signs of my family, or Arrick’s. I have no doubt that once they realise I am gone they will be checking the bus terminals for me and I can’t face any of them right now. I have mulled over every scenario; running to Jake to talk sense into my parents, running to Leila, but it all comes down to one very unavoidable fact. When my dad gets something in his head that he thinks is for the best, then no one, and I mean no one, can stand in his way. The fact he thinks I am some sort of drug addicted alcoholic, in need of saving, and the only way is to condemn me to dry out, means he will make sure it happens no matter what anyone else says to him. No way in hell am I going through that kind of insanity.
My phone rings in my bag and I haul it out nervously, I have been waiting on the start of the calls. Seeing red when Camilla’s name flashes on screen. I think about rejecting it, but my fiery temper wants to be unleashed somewhere and may as well be on her, seeing as she is the reason I am even in this mess right now.
‘What is it Camilla?’ I snap haughtily down the phone at her.
‘Oh Babes, I’m soo, sooo, very sorry about last night. I am such a prize bitch when I’ve been on the champers, and I was a complete wreck when I woke up this morning and remembered how much I had let you down. How truly awfully I behaved to you, Dahling.’ The whiny voice and over dramatic sniffs grate on my nerves and spike up the rage that has been simmering the full thirty minutes I have been here.
‘You didn’t just let me down Cam, you let that sleazy fuck grind on me and get his hand up my skirt. Do you know how disgusting I felt when I got home? What would have happened if I hadn’t come around and stopped him?’ My voice catches in my throat, a hint of a panic attack taking effect, as memories of the night before flood back again. I get that sickening flash back feeling when I see Malcolm’s slimy face.
‘Babes, I really thought you were into him, and I behaved soo disgustingly to you. Please give me another chance. We’ll hang out somewhere of your choosing, to make amends, a little girly night, and I’ll prove you can trust me. I’m sooo sorry. Please don’t be mad at me Sophieboo’s.’ Her tone grates on me, like nails on a blackboard.
‘Look, I am currently trying to get a coach to the city. My parents tried to put me in rehab, so I’m out of here. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.’ I shrug, seeing a coach in the distance and checking once more than no one familiar has shown up, I clutch my ticket tighter and scoop up my rucksack. Right now, Camilla’s apology is doing nothing for my mood and I have no idea whether I should believe her or not. I am still majorly pissed and my mind is on far more pressing issues. Like getting the hell out of dodge.
‘Oh my god, I like totally have a place in the city you could crash at. It belongs to a friend of mine and I could meet you there. Please Sophieboooo, let me make this up to you? Let me do this to show you how seriously sorry I am.’
I sigh, my head racing with what I should do and trying to figure out if Amber would even let me move back in, that arrangement was only ever meant to be temporary, but seeing as she is one of the so-called friends who didn’t given a shit about my disappearance, then I guess not.
‘Look, my bus is here. So, if you want to meet me then tell me where and when, as I need to go.’ I’m caving, I know I am, and even though every part of me is telling me that Camilla is bad news, I really have no one else at this moment in time. If I go to Emma, or Leila, they might side with my parents and agree that no real harm can come of easing their worries with some time at a five-star rehab clinic, and last thing I need right now is being put under house arrest by strangers. I have heard stories about those places, last thing I need is anyone trying to enforce dominance over me. The shivers run up my spine at the mere thought of it.
‘Oooh my god. Like oookay.’ She sounds as flustered and excited as the morning she offered to shop for me. I bite down on my lip as another bout of doubt hits me in the stomach.
‘Just give me your coach details and I’ll meet you at the other end; I have a car, so I’m sure I’ll make it in better time than you will, once I organise the details. I know how slow those coaches are.’ Camilla almost gushes with happiness down the cell and I feel myself giving in entirely, caught at her mercy because I have no better options right now.
* * *
I’m stiff after the long bus ride and just as she promised, upon departing the bus, Camilla is standing leaning against a black Lamborghini in the parking lot; dressed in killer tailoring over spiked heels and looking movie star spectacular. I turned my phone off for fear of family trying to call me when I hit the bus and am relieved to see I won’t need to switch it on to locate Camilla. My next step will be to ditch my phone altogether, until I am ready to face them at all, maybe leave it switched off in whatever apartment Camilla is offering for me to crash, until I get myself back together.
‘Nice car.’ I nod towards her, still hostile after last night, not ready to forgive anything just yet. Even after hours on a bus, milling everything over, I am still majorly pissed at her, and I don’t trust her at all.
‘Dahling boo, are you still cross with me? I said I was sorry, can we just kiss and make up?’ She pouts at me, petted lip and puppy eyes, followed by a smile and I just roll my eyes at her, temper grating internally.
‘Look, just don’t pull that shit on me again okay. Friends don’t do that to one another, we’re supposed to have each other’s back.’ I throw my bag in the back of the car and slide in. More than aware that she probably has no concept of a real friend, of a friendship like I have with Arry.
Camilla follows to the driver’s side, sliding in gracefully and turns to me with an even fuller petted lip.
‘I’m soweee. Promise I won’t do it again. I was such a drunken cow, and I am so awful when I drink….. Forgive me, I won’t do it again. Pinky promise.’ She holds up a manicured talon, tipped in red, but I only feel my heart constrict at the memory of Arrick that night in the city. I look away for a second to regain control of the sudden urge to cry and wave it away.
‘That’s juvenile, I believe you okay? Can we just get going?’ I’m relieved to see her put her hand down and get the car on the road.
The journey is fast after the long hours on the most uncomfortable bus journey in history and the apartment pretty nice, as apartments go. It is on the upper east side, a little too close to Arrick’s for comfort, but as I am currently avoiding him like the plague, I hope it won’t be an issue. Arrick always swung in different social circles to me, so I hope I won’t run into him anytime soon.
It has the same rich kid décor as most of my ex friend’s places, and the up side is the closeness to the nightlife and the bustling stores. Even though I told myself I wasn’t going to be like before, I still want to be somewhere that gives me a choice; near the buzz of New York’s constant energy, should I feel like going out sometime.
‘Who owns this place anyway?’ I nosey at the b
edrooms, smiling when Camilla tells me to pick any one, I wander into the most feminine and chuck my rucksack on the bed haphazardly, eyeing up its clean décor and the hints that this is a male’s place. It reeks of bachelor pad, rather than couple, or even woman.
‘Just some guy I sometimes fuck. He’s very generous with his houses.’ She winks at me and wanders in to flop on the bed in front of me, carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine.
‘Celebratory tipple?’ She waves it my way, but I only shake my head. Sighing heavily.
‘I am still recovering from whatever rocket fuel you poured down my throat last night. No thanks,’ It isn’t just the hangover, something in my gut tells me Camilla had done something to my drink last night and I can’t shake it. I know she will deny it if I ask, and I just cannot be bothered with any drama right now. I am exhausted, still hungover and in need of rest. The bus journey had been cramped, noisy, and the creep watching me across the aisle on the whole trip, made me uptight and tense. I sat the whole time with my bag in my lap, aware of his eyes on me.
‘Come on Soph’s don’t be a spoilsport, you can’t bunk with me and not enjoy the occasional booze fest. What’s the point of being young, beautiful, and loaded, if we can’t have some fun?’ She moves to sit up, placing the glasses on the night stand while fighting with the cork, screaming in delight when it pops off and wine spills everywhere.
I frown, a huge part of me sending off warnings, telling me to get my bag and go, but I’m tired, dead on my feet and I really am too exhausted to leave. I want nothing more than to relax for one night and stop stressing about how my family are right this second. I know without a doubt they will have realised I am gone by now, and guilt is tearing me up inside. I have major regrets at how I reacted, nothing I can do about it now though, and I just need to make the best out of the worst.
The Carrero Heart_Beginning_Arrick and Sophie Page 22