by V. F. Mason
I pressed the button---something I rarely did---and the nurse came in. She was in her late twenties and had this stern expression on her face every time she looked at me. She probably had a problem with me---not like I gave a fuck. I owed her nothing.
“Yes?” Her voice was slightly annoyed as she raised an eyebrow and winced while covering her nose from the smell. The room wasn’t cleaned up for some reason, and I wasn’t sure what kind of services this Nathaniel guy offered, but if my experience was anything to go by, it sucked big time.
“I want to take a shower, and can someone be sent in to clean up my room?” Feeling like shit already, I wanted at least to have nice smelling environment.
“You’ll have to do it yourself.” She must be fucking kidding me!
I was hardly staying here out of charity, so for the service they could damn well clean the whole mess. I had no idea—was it a service or a one-time thing? But since he had all those people working for him, it must mean he had done it before, right?
This whole rehabilitation center seemed like such shit. I never went outside the room—or made it off the bed, for that matter—but sometimes at night I heard horses neighing or owls hooting.
“Why? You must have people who clean here.” Her expression gave nothing away, but she licked her lips, which were covered in red lipstick.
“We do. But Mr. Jackson told us you had to do it on your own.” Her voice was distant.
“Like everything else, apparently.” This guy was a serious pain in the ass, and this woman seemed too cocky for her own good. The only reason she probably had the position was that she was most likely screwing the damned boss.
I was trash for taking drugs, but it was okay for him to fuck his employee?
Those double-standard fuckers. Sometimes I wished I was into girls.
I kid you not.
“Fine,” I replied, moved to the shower and noticed there were things I liked to use, like chamomile soap and various products for my face. Even some makeup. And I knew for a fact it wasn’t there in the very beginning.
I’d had to pee during the past month, so it wasn’t like I’d never been to the bathroom before.
“What’s this?” She came closer and looked in the direction I was pointing.
“Your friends left it here.” My heart stopped for a second.
“My friends?” Didn’t Nathaniel say I wasn’t allowed to meet anyone?
“Yeah, the rest of your band. The redhead and the weird one. They came while you slept and left those and some clothes in the closet for you.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat because I knew what that gesture meant.
They hadn’t given up on me; they’d come here.
Well, not Sam. I knew she would never forgive me. But I took some comfort in knowing there were people on my side.
Even if I didn’t deserve it.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your brother.” That stopped my movements, and I looked at her while she tried to ignore me. Why was she being kind? She’d been a total bitch just a minute ago, and to say I was confused was an understatement.
“Thanks.” The moment was awkward for me, but it was something I had to do.
I took off my clothes, and since I wasn’t able to lock the door because she had to be able to enter at any time, I didn’t feel exactly modest. I looked in the mirror and winced.
I was a sorry version of myself and couldn’t handle it, but I had to see it. I studied the changes my body had undergone. I didn’t even recognize myself. My fingers softly touched the tattoo above my heart, which had mine and Nick’s initials entwined together in a Celtic knot. I covered it with my hand and for a second, closed my eyes. It looked like some bright spot on my body now and didn’t fit with the rest of me.
The consequences of my decisions, the ones I had made and still didn’t regret. . . I think I had reached an extraordinary level of fuck-up.
I put my filthy clothes in the basket near the bath and turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up.
Finally, I was able to go inside, groaning when the hot water touched my body. I had forgotten how much I loved it. In all those months, I’d rarely taken a shower, and when I did, it was fast, something I wanted to be done with. I soaped myself up and scrubbed my skin. It was slightly painful, but it was okay. It made me feel, after all. Once I was done, I washed my hair. The water dripping from it was dirty, and made dark puddles around my feet. After thirty minutes in the shower, I felt slightly more human again.
I went back to the room, where Blondie was still waiting for me. She was looking at her phone, and I just couldn’t stand the whole mess.
“So, can you bring me the cleaning supplies?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Maybe she didn’t expect me to know how to clean, and boy, was she wrong. Our parents were messy my whole life, leaving Nick and I to pick up their shit. Not to mention, I took various shifts working in diners and fast food places. I knew the meaning of hard work, and having millions hadn’t changed that.
“I’m going to tell Marie to bring them to you now.”
“Marie?”
“Yeah, she runs things around here.” She shuddered a little, as though she didn’t like the lady.
She finally stood and went to the door, confusing me further. Wasn’t she supposed to stay and be my watchdog?
“Where are you going?”
“Nathaniel said there is no need for you to be handcuffed anymore. You can wait for Marie, clean, then come downstairs. She will show you the way. Also, your doctor will be in shortly to see how things are progressing.” With those words, she left the room, leaving the strong smell of her perfume behind, which made me gag.
I never understood why some women felt the need to bathe in that shit. It was hideous, and how guys could stand it, I had no clue.
I was free? Well, the term freedom was probably subjective. But still, it was better than anything else. I went to the wardrobe and took out some sweatpants and a shirt with a skull on it. I put them on and dried my hair. I still looked like crap, but at least I was clean now.
The bed made me wince in disgust. It was all rumpled and dirty, and I wondered how I could have spent so much time in it without feeling disgusted with myself. I’d always been a clean freak. The girls used to teasingly accuse me of having OCD, but I didn’t care.
Was it possible to change so much, you didn’t recognize the person you had become?
I grabbed the sheets and started to get them off when I heard a slight cough from the door and turned around to see who it was. The woman was middle-aged, had gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, and was a bit overweight, but seemed friendly enough. She was beautiful and her chocolate eyes held kindness in them. She smiled, and I notices she was wearing an apron and a housedress, and had some cleaning supplies.
Well, that didn’t take long.
“Hey, thanks for those.” She just kept on smiling, though I noticed some tears in her eyes and wondered what the fuck was wrong with her. She quickly came forward and hugged me with all her might. I stood there, frozen, my hands by my side, and had no idea what to say. She smelled of cookies, flowers, and the smell I associated only with older people, who gave warmth to everyone. She finally leaned back and looked at me.
“Everything is going to be okay.” With those parting words, she left the room and I stared after her, bemused.
“Crazy as fuck place,” I muttered, and decided to focus on one task at a time. I kept the door open since I couldn’t open the window, and even with the A/C on, the smells were just disgusting.
For the next hour, all I did was clean, vacuum, change the bedsheets, and looked through the things that had arrived. I noticed the girls brought my favorite CDs and clothes, and even my guitar. I didn’t play often or as well as Sam, but I knew how to use it. It was probably useless to me now because I’d just lost my career, but it was good to know I had it with me.
Finally exhausted, I left the cleaning supplies outside the door and washe
d my hands, feeling a touch better about my room and body. Everything on the outside was clean, but not on the inside. I had to take slow steps. I wanted to get out of this shit and past the things I had done.
I took a deep breath and turned to walk out of the room and roam around. But I almost screamed when I realized I was no longer alone in the room. Nathaniel was standing in front of my desk where I’d put out the photo of me and the girls, which was the only one they’d brought. He raised his icy-blue eyes to me and it was hard not to notice that even though they were cold and showed no emotion, they pierced through my soul as though he knew every little thought in my mind. He was wearing the same white t-shirt and jeans as the last time, and he looked as fierce and disinterested as before. Well, at least the dude was consistent in everything.
“What are you doing in here?”
That was probably a dumb question, since it was his ranch and he could do anything he damn well pleased. “I thought I wasn’t your favorite person to be around.” I told myself to shut up---I really did---because it was bad to antagonize this guy, but I just couldn’t be quiet. He had pissed me off with his high-and-mighty attitude. He smirked and put the picture down as he leaned back on the table. That action outlined his abs, and let me tell you, the guy probably had one fucking sexy body.
Not that I noticed, or cared, for that matter. I was done with guys, period. I shuddered a touch at the thought of those guys I’d slept with under the influence and was glad I, at least, remembered to make them use a condom. I wasn’t a prude or anything, but usually preferred to sleep with guys when I was sober. I wasn’t into the whole drunken-night thing, not after our parents.
Yeah, that’s why you ended up on drugs.
Beating myself up about my mistakes was pointless. I didn’t handle well Nick’s death, acted careless and took all my hard work for granted. I had to give up those drugs. It simply was not the way to deal with the pain. I felt numb inside, but there was also rage. I welcomed this feeling in me because it gave me some purpose, and I didn’t feel like the world was suffocating me.
“Sometimes we don’t really have a choice.” He smirked again, and I wondered if this was his attempt at a joke? The venom from our last conversation was gone.
“Yeah, well, that certainly explains why you’re still in my room.” I sat on the bed and self-consciously tugged my hair behind my ear. I was really uncomfortable, what with me looking like shit and him sitting there in all his glory.
Clean shit. Remember, Bella, clean.
Sadly, I found little, if any, comfort in that.
“I came here to talk about the next course of action.” I frowned, not really understanding what he meant. Course of action? Wasn’t this month enough of my prison? “Since you are done with the detox, the next stage will be psychological therapy. You can go out, enjoy the weather, and trust me, you don’t want to do anything stupid. We will see how you handle all this, and once you get the all-clear, you’ll be free to go.” My head started to hurt from all the information he was giving me, but the fact that they planned to let me go eventually, was a good sign, or at least I hoped it was.
“Can I have visitors?” I hated how my voice shook some, but I couldn’t help it. Surely the girls would come, right? They came to bring me all my clothes.
Something flashed through his eyes, but it went as quickly, so I wasn’t able to catch the expression. He probably pitied me or felt I deserved it, not that I disagreed with him on that.
“Not at this stage. Someday, sure. But right now it’s out of the question. You need to focus on yourself.” He crossed his arms while his eyes were locked with mine. “Any questions?”
“Why did you make me clean my room?” Somehow that was interesting to me. His mouth lifted in a half-smile and I noticed he had dimples in his cheeks that made his face transform to friendly—well, almost, if it wasn’t for the coldness in his eyes. He was like a tiger, not to be messed with.
“You need to face the mess you created,” he said simply, and rose up and went to the door.
“Rose will come back and show you around, where to go, and your schedule. You can interact with other people here and do whatever you want.” He continued talking without turning around and it pissed me off. He wouldn’t give me enough respect to say that to my face.
Nathaniel stopped suddenly and spun around to look at me with a scary expression that made my stomach churn. I had a deep desire to dive under the covers and hide from the lethal look he was throwing my way.
“Don’t you have questions about your boyfriend?” He must have seen my puzzled expression and confusion because he took a deep breath and explained, “Logan Davis.”
“He is not my boyfriend. He wasn’t even my friend.” He raised a brow in the are-you-fucking-kidding-me sign. I didn’t want any misconceptions here. “He supplied the drugs I needed.” I kind of felt bad for him, because he did try to stop me, and for some reason, Nathaniel wasn’t so kind when he said his name. Maybe he just hated drug addicts period, if his reaction to me was anything to go by. “He tried to tell me I was taking too much, but I wouldn’t listen,” I whispered, having no idea why I kept talking to him of all people. He probably wasn’t interested in my excuses, which to him must be lame as fuck, because they sounded weak, even to me.
“Well, too fucking bad he didn’t succeed, right?”
“You don’t seem to like him.” I just wanted him to go away and leave me alone, so I had no idea why I kept asking him unnecessary questions I already knew the answers to. His face went blank, devoid of any emotions, and his eyes become an ocean-blue color. Deep pain flashed through them, but he hid it with an indifferent expression. His next words were said in a husky and slightly rugged voice, and I just about reached out to him. Almost, but I knew the move wouldn’t have been welcomed.
“I don’t have to like him. Anyway, he’s in rehab in the city. I don’t know how he’s doing or if he has a chance of coming back, but thought maybe you should know that.” One more glance and he left the room.
To think I’d judged Logan.
I’d ended up just like him, using and alone in the world, where no one gave a fuck about us because we were considered a lost cause.
Didn’t that just suck?
The weather was so nice. It was hard not to lift your face up to the sun and smile where the soft light touched it and made it warm.
I’d always preferred summer above all other seasons, because then Nick and I didn’t have to worry about the heat in the household and it was more bearable because our parents preferred to spend time at their friend’s beach house. It was a wonder they still had friends, but apparently there was enough money for that. They had enough money for everything they liked. It was Nick and I who had to suffer.
I ran around the grass with my bare feet and laughed; Nicky was fishing nearby. He turned his beautiful eyes to me and smiled, amused with me. Nick loved it when I was happy, and it was hard for him to accept there were some things he just couldn’t fix.
I finally ended up near him and fiercely hugged him from behind. He just patted my hands.
“Any luck yet?” He was a good fisherman. Another perks of the season was when he caught some fish, he knew how to cook it, so we would satisfy our hunger. Plus, with his tips from cleaning, he made sure we didn’t go without.
We usually hid our food inside my room under the bed, where my parents never went.
“Not yet, but don’t worry. It’s only been an hour; there’ll be something soon.”
“I’m not worried. I believe in you.” How couldn’t I? As long as Nick was there, nothing could ever happen to me. Since I was in a good mood, I decided to sing his favorite song, the Beatles “In My Life,” which made his face light up with another smile.
Later that night, we had a good dinner of fish and even a bit of chocolate for dessert he had paid for with money he’d saved up from his pay.
In moments like that, I couldn’t have imagined what it would be like to lose
Nicky, because if he hadn’t been there with me back then, my parents would have destroyed me.
I hugged him fiercely in bed and fell asleep with a smile, knowing everything was right in this world, because my big brother made sure it was.
Annabella
You know that feeling when you go to school or pre-school for the first time, feeling like all those people won’t like you, and you end up all alone even though you all start on the same level? I was afraid to leave the room, but knew I had to do it. I couldn’t stay in any longer, and I really wanted to see the ranch. I discovered I was on the second floor, with several rooms close to mine, and I think there was a bathroom at the end, too. The walls were painted beige, and the fine oak doors and stairs were a deep burnished brown. I slowly went down the hall. My sneakers didn’t make any sound on the soft, carpeted floor as I took the steps to go downstairs. On the wall near the staircase, there were several pictures of a beautiful woman, with green eyes and blonde hair. She was laughing and the photographs captured her well. In fact, all the pictures were of her at different times in her life, some with a small boy, who might have been a toddler, making it hard to tell whether it was Nathaniel or not.
Downstairs had a vast living room with couches, chairs, and a big TV. Then there was a dining room with a big table and for some reason there was a vase of peonies, my favorite flowers.
Probably a coincidence, but still I leaned down and smelled them, closing my eyes with pleasure. The house was warm, and based on the climate, I gathered there was snow outside.
Cold weather wasn’t my favorite season. I grew up in Texas, and winters there weren’t kind if you were a starving kid whose parents didn’t give a shit about her. I pushed those memories aside and went in the direction of an amazing smell, which made my stomach growl.
For weeks, just the idea of food had made me nauseous. But oddly enough, right now I was starving.
Okay, maybe not that hungry, but I could use some food.
I entered the kitchen and there was Marie again. She was humming something to herself as she waved a spoon here and there. She was listening to Beyoncé while cooking something on the stove. She didn’t notice me and even danced a little to the beat. It was so adorable I couldn’t help but smile.