Vicious Desire

by S. Massery

  My mom is alive.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Amelie leans in. “It’s okay, Riley. Everyone knows that things were rough in your house. And, well… no one blames her for taking the easy way out.” Her gaze goes pointedly to my boyfriend. “Right, Eli?”

  He shifts. “I don’t think…”

  “The easy way out?” I repeat. My head spins in confusion. “I don’t…”

  “I just can’t believe she took her own life.” Amelie withdraws, keeping me at arm’s length with her hands on my shoulders. “We’re all here for you.”

  Suicide.

  They think my mom died?

  For a moment, I picture what my state of mind might be like if Mom actually did kill herself. If I was left with that pit in my stomach that sucked everything into it like a black hole. If I wasn’t thrilled she’s in remission.

  That girl would be crushed.

  But me? I’m just… mortified.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say in a very deliberate voice.

  Amelie throws her arm around my shoulder and pulls me away from Eli. I had still been holding on to him, but he doesn’t move. My hand falls from his arm.

  “When Eli told us, I was devastated. It’s been a tough year for you.”

  People are reaching out, giving their condolences.

  I wish I could tell them that this is an awful joke, to yell that she’s still with me—but some are smirking.

  The trick wasn’t seamless.

  Every single person here is at fault.

  I dig my heels into the grass, stopping my forward momentum.

  Amelie turns and faces me. “This is a lot for you to take in.”

  Her eyes are hard. She’s colder than I’ve seen directed at me—although I’ve seen her savagery directed at other underclassmen plenty of times in the past year.

  “What are you saying?” I glance behind me, but we’ve been swallowed by so-called sympathetic well-wishers.

  “I’m saying it’s okay that you need a break from cheerleading,” she says slowly. “Clearly you won’t be able to be as cheerful as we need you to be.”

  Wow.

  I laugh. “Great, thanks for freeing me from the pits of hell.”

  Someone gasps.

  Amelie straightens. “Thank Eli for this little party. He thought you’d appreciate it.”

  Another barb.

  Now Eli breaks through the crowd, coming to my side.

  I knock his hand away before he can touch me again.

  This goes well beyond what we agreed on. Bringing my family into this?

  How many times had I laid on his bed and lamented about Mom’s treatments, how scared we had been for the past year?

  He knows my secrets and he wields them like a weapon.

  It hurts worse than I could’ve guessed. Hot pricks, like being stabbed with flaming needles, hit my skin. My stomach, my throat.

  There’s a suffocating weight sitting on my chest.

  So I do the only thing left: I run.

  27

  Riley

  Eli doesn’t question me as we speed toward my house. I grip my phone in one hand and the handle of the door in my other.

  I texted Dad two minutes ago.

  I called Mom, but she didn’t answer.

  “Drive faster,” I demand.

  “Is she okay? Did something happen with her cancer—”

  “No,” I snap.

  Even now, almost eighteen months after the orchestrated ‘funeral’ party, I can’t voice it. That my mom might actually be suicidal.

  I should’ve seen this coming.

  Why didn’t I?

  Eli whips into a turn onto my street, and the truck skids on the pavement. It rolls to a stop, and I spring out of the vehicle. I sprint up the porch and blast through the door.

  It’s eerily quiet.

  I haul myself around the first floor, knowing it’s useless. She’s upstairs.

  Eli rushes in after me, and he’s hot on my heels up the steps, down the hall to her room.

  I hesitate for the barest of seconds outside her door, then twist the knob and shove it open. Worry strangles me, but I can’t stop moving.

  She’s not in bed.

  “Riley—”

  “Stop,” I snap.

  I find her in the master bathroom. She’s sitting on the floor, her legs extended out and her back against the sink cabinet. My heart cracks open.

  “No, no, no,” I chant.

  I fall to my knees beside her and grab her shoulders.

  “Mom. Wake up.” My eyes are burning.

  Her eyes are closed.

  Her whole body is limp.

  “How many are supposed to be in here?” Eli asks, handing me a bottle.

  I scan the label, but I can’t even read it. My vision is blurred by tears.

  “We need to call an ambulance,” I choke out. “But…”

  I can’t do it.

  Noah being strapped to a gurney flashes in front of my eyes. He was helpless—sick, but utterly dependent on the EMTs and orderlies who took him away.

  “I’ve got it,” Eli says. He disappears from the bathroom.

  I can make out the tone of his voice as he talks to the dispatcher. It isn’t too panicked, but it’s quick. He’s nervous.

  My attention zooms back in on my mother.

  “Riley, check and see if she has a pulse—and if she’s breathing.”

  I check her pulse first, waiting a few seconds to feel her carotid artery in her neck. Her pulse is there, but it seems too weak. Her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

  “Yes to both,” I say. I smooth back her hair, and her eyelids flutter. “She has a cut on her forehead, too.”

  He relays the information. “They’ll be here in five.”

  Those five minutes drag out. Each second is an agonizing hour.

  I just hold on to her cold hand and pray to whoever will listen.

  “Here,” Eli directs. He leads the first responders to the bathroom. “Riley, come on.”

  I’m frozen. I can’t stop staring at her face. There’s a bit of blood streaked down her temple that was hidden by her hair and the way her face was tilted, but now it’s abundantly clear that she must’ve knocked it against something hard.

  Hands slip under my armpits, locking just under my breasts. I’m lifted away from my mother.

  An awful sound fills the room.

  “Riley,” Eli says in my ear. “It’ll be okay. Stop.”

  The noise is coming from me. Vibrating in my chest.

  “Easy does it.” He sits me on Mom’s bed and crouches in front of me. “Focus on me, okay?”

  My gaze finds his. “I can’t do this.”

  An EMT pauses beside him. “Miss, this is your mother?”

  I cringe. “Yes.”

  “Is she allergic to anything?”

  I bolt upright. “I have a file—”

  He squints at me, but I ignore him. It’s in the downstairs cabinet by the door. Eli follows me down and stands stock-still while I rifle through paperwork.

  Where is it, where is it?

  “Aha!” I yell.

  They’ve brought Mom down on a stretcher, and one of the EMTs stops beside me.

  “She had cancer. This is a list the hospital made—her doctors’ information is on there, her allergies are highlighted—”

  The EMT pats my shoulder and takes the paper. “This is very helpful, thank you. We’re going to Beacon Hill Hospital. If you’re riding with your friend, just stay close behind the ambulance.”

  Eli nods. “Got it, thanks.”

  They head out, and Eli only spares a moment to grab a set of keys off the hook. He locks the door behind us and jogs to catch up to me.

  “She’ll be okay,” he says.

  Maybe he’s remembering what Amelie did.

  “She called and said she just couldn’t take it anymore.” I shake my head and climb into his truc
k. My phone is on the center seat, blowing up with notifications. “Dad is calling me.”

  He picks up the phone and hands it to me. “He’s at the hospital with Noah, isn’t he?”

  “I didn’t think I’d have the lives of two people I love in danger at the same time,” I whisper.

  “Answer it, Riley.”

  I do, woodenly. Dad bombards me with questions—I guess my text was too cryptic.

  It takes me a while to explain what happened. The phone call, finding Mom in the bathroom. I look down and realize I’m still holding the empty pill bottle.

  I don’t know how I managed to hold onto it.

  “She took her pain medication. I don’t know how much was left, but it’s all gone.”

  He swears. “Where is she now?”

  “In the ambulance.”

  Eli is speeding, staying close to the rescue as it flies down the road. Cars move out of our way. I glimpse a familiar intersection and tell Dad.

  “You’re close,” he says, exhaling. “It’ll be okay, Riley. You did the right thing.”

  My eyes fill with tears. “Are they going to lock her up?”

  He’s quiet for a minute. Then, “Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing. You’d get your mother back…”

  For a second, I’m comforted at the thought. And then outraged.

  “I’ll see you there,” I bite out.

  I set the phone down and exhale.

  “Let it out,” Eli says. “It’s just us.”

  He doesn’t have to say it twice.

  “Why does it take a fucking overdose for us to notice she’s spiraling? She’s been depressed for months—almost a year, honestly. Was it my fault? Did I not do enough? Was I not good enough—”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he says.

  “You say that so easily,” I snap. “You know how I measure my life? The time that passes? We met when Mom was in the hospital here for the first time. Then Noah started partying more. And my sophomore year began just as Mom came home from the hospital for the final time. Junior year was marked by Noah being taken away—”

  “Because your family doesn’t give a shit about your mile markers,” Eli snarls. “Stop focusing on them and look at yourself for a moment. You’ve been having panic attacks since I met you because you’re so damn worried about everyone else.”

  “Of course I’m worried!” I hit the door. “I don’t want Dad to work a hundred hours a week, or Mom to sleep all the time, or to constantly think about if Noah’s going to come home after work or go on a fucking bender!”

  He nods, motioning for me to keep going.

  I’m so loud, my voice keeps cracking. “Stupid insurance wouldn’t cover Noah’s rehab, so my entire college fund was drained in less than a year. My parents bankrupted themselves trying to save Noah, but they didn’t notice I was—I am—”

  “Drowning,” Eli finishes.

  “Yes.”

  I have nothing left to give.

  No more energy, no more fucks.

  I close my eyes until Eli touches my shoulder and tells me we’ve arrived.

  He laces his fingers with mine and stays beside me, and we enter the hospital.

  He doesn’t talk about it much, but I know he loathes them almost more than I do. Last year, his family had to go to Chicago for a family emergency. That emergency… his cousin died of an autoimmune disorder. They spent a long time in the hospital, and Eli was there when he died.

  So, yeah. Hospitals suck for both of us.

  “You can bail,” I mutter. We were just here, but it seems heavier now.

  “Not going to happen, Appleton.”

  My phone beeps.

  They’ve admitted Mom to the fifth floor, Dad says. We can’t see her until they’ve finished her exam.

  “Let’s go to Noah’s room,” I say. “Dad will meet us there.”

  Eli is fine until we get into the elevator.

  His face goes white.

  We stand toward the back, and a few nurses and another visitor step on with us.

  “Breathe,” I whisper.

  He lets out an exhale. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Let’s worry about how your brother will react to me walking into his room.”

  I snort. “Right. Last time you saw him, you goaded him into punching you.”

  We get a few weird looks at that statement.

  The doors slide open on our floor, and we hurry down the hall.

  Dad is in the hallway, waiting for us. Well, he’s waiting for me.

  I don’t think he expects Eli to be beside me.

  He definitely doesn’t expect it, because he strides forward, meeting us halfway, and cocks his fist back.

  Eli sees it coming. He has to.

  But he sets his jaw, and a muscle tics.

  A split second later, Dad’s fist smashes into Eli’s face.

  28

  Eli

  One Year Ago

  Riley made a new friend.

  It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to pay attention to her.

  Liam jostles my arm, pulling my focus.

  Good. After what happened last year, she’s refused to even look at me. I don’t want her to know that I stare when I can. My body aches at the thought of never talking to her again.

  It’s time to show some goddamn resolve and tell her I had nothing to do with that humiliating party last year.

  Amelie pinned it on me. Of course. Because Amelie is a psycho bitch who’s being married off to a DeSantis—one of the biggest known Mafia families in New York City—and she’s decided to take her anger out on literally everyone.

  Maybe it’s because I wouldn’t date her friend, Jackie. She wanted us to double date—her and Caleb, me and Jackie.

  Yeah fucking right.

  No way in hell would that happen.

  Caleb’s been torn up about Margo Wolfe for years, to the point of stalking her, and now she’s back at Emery-Rose. Their little fling was over the moment she left for Paris to study abroad… but really, I’m pretty sure the exchange student shtick was just to get away from all of us.

  “Dude,” Liam says, flicking my ear.

  I smack his hand away. “What?”

  We’re headed to a table, claiming seats. Cheerleaders have joined us, and Savannah drapes herself over Caleb.

  My stomach churns.

  He’s an idiot.

  Not that I would tell him that to his face—I don’t need that sort of grief.

  Someone drops a fork, and he stands abruptly. He scowls, fury radiating off of him.

  My attention goes back to Riley.

  She’s curvier this time around. Her breasts push against her tight black shirt. Her light-brown hair has streaks of gold in it.

  I miss her and I hate it.

  “I just don’t get it,” Liam says. “She doesn’t seem that bad.”

  I blink. Is he talking about Riley? “What?”

  “Margo.” He shrugs. “She seems pretty innocent to me.”

  I grimace. “Don’t tell Caleb that.”

  He will, though. Those two rub shoulders sometimes, and their brawls range from exciting to dangerous. I hate getting between them, but it’s usually the only thing that’ll make them stop.

  “She’s not innocent,” Savannah snaps. She stares after Caleb like she wants to taste him.

  It’s pretty fucking nasty.

  Riley and Margo leave soon after Caleb returns to the table. He looks like the cat that drank the cream, satisfied with himself. And then he leans over and grabs Savannah by the neck, hauling her into him.

  I hide my disgust—but Riley’s is written across her face.

  She never was good at keeping her emotions under wraps.

  They get up quickly and disappear.

  As soon as they’re gone, my heartbeat picks up speed.

  Fuck. That.

  I stand, patting Liam on the head. “Be right back.”

  He grunts.

  I have a pretty good idea w
here Riley would’ve parked, so I go in that direction. I hurry to catch her before she leaves. Something sits heavy in the pit of my stomach at the thought.

  She’s halfway across the parking lot when I yell, “Hey, Applebottom.”

  I don’t know why I use that nickname. Why I keep using that nickname.

  I like her ass. It’s fuller than it was a year ago, but it’s practically saying, Grab me, Eli.

  “Where you running off to?” I ask.

  “Just leave her alone,” Margo snaps.

  Arrogant girl. No wonder Caleb is drawn to her.

  “Come with me,” I say to Riley. “Just you, Applebottom. I don’t really care about your friend.”

  I turn and stride away, knowing that curiosity and anger more than anything will push Riley to follow me.

  And what’s my plan?

  No fucking clue.

  I go around the side of the building. It’s sort of quiet over here, and I stop once I don’t see Riley’s car.

  She appears behind me, arms already crossed.

  “I don’t know why the hell you think you can order me around—”

  “Stop.”

  She blinks at me, then presses her lips together.

  “I miss you,” I say. We’re going straight for the truth, I guess. “You drive me crazy. Sometimes I want to strangle you—especially when you thought I set up that god-awful party. When you thought I’d ever do that to you…”

  Her gaze slides to the ground.

  Maybe she didn’t fully believe it was me—but it was an easy enough lie to put credit in.

  “Riley.”

  She lifts her chin. “You miss me. You say you didn’t do it—why wait until now?”

  I grit my teeth. She loves the truth. But sometimes truth bombs hurt—they explode and take out everyone around them.

  “Why?” I stalk closer.

  She automatically backs up. Her back hits the wall, and her eyes go wide.

  She’s barely breathing.

  I thread my fingers through her silky hair, cupping the back of her head.

  “I’m pissed that you believed Amelie over me,” I say. “Do you…?”

  She sighs. Her hands come up and grip the front of my shirt. “She got in my head.”

  I nod once, ready to let her go. It isn’t everything—but it’s a step in the right direction.