Ollie let out a small laugh. “You tell me.”
The room went quiet again as Dr. Kippler looked around the room. “What about you, Jett? Which emotional need is most important to you?”
My head cocked in Dr. Kippler’s direction now that the heat was back on me.
“Variety,” I said sharply, not having to think at all about my answer.
“Care to explain?”
“Nope.”
Dr. Kippler nodded at my honesty and brought his attention back to the class. “For those of you who are unfamiliar with variety, it’s the motivation to seek change or a challenge outside of a normal routine. Unless Masters here would like to alter the pyramid once again?” he asked, looking to Ollie with a challenging grin. Chuckles spread throughout the class and Ollie shook his head before Dr. Kippler continued, “Very well. Your responses to my question could clarify the very reason why you’re here in the first place.” Kippler brought his hands together as he became proud of himself with his revelation.
After my last class of the day, I entered the office of Dr. Conway. The room was the same size as my dorm, and the sun cast enough light through the large window to brighten up the space. A leather couch rested against the wall, facing a desk with papers scattered across, and posters of positive quotes filled her pale blue walls.
Dr. Conway turned to face me from the chair with an authentic smile. “Mia, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” She stood with an extended hand. “Please take a seat.”
As soon as she opened her mouth, I knew Dr. Conway was an American by her Boston accent. Her thick black hair framed her face and dropped just below her shoulders. “How was your trip here?”
“Long.” My body sank into the leather as my eyes wandered around the room until they fell onto a poster of a kitten with the quote, “Today I will not stress over things I can’t control.”
What in the hell did a kitten have to be stressed about?
To my right sat a bookshelf filled with novels I’d never heard of, and a collection of self-help books.
“Yeah, I don’t miss that flight,” Dr. Conway said and let out a sigh.
“Boston?”
“Born and raised. I came out to the UK during a sabbatical. Finding the love of my life here wasn’t planned, but hey …”—she threw her palms in the air—”shit happens.”
I spaced out after she said sabbatical, but continued to nod in interest. I had mastered the skill of pretending.
“So, tell me, why do you think you’re here?” she asked.
“I’m here because my dad is in denial. The image of his only daughter graduating college and living out a normal life is the only reason why he refused to send me off to a mental institution.”
“Do you belong in a mental institution?”
“I don’t belong, period.”
Dr. Conway tapped my file with her long fake nails as she crossed her legs. “I read your file, Mia. You suffer from Alexithymia and Emotional Detachment Disorder. You have already tried to commit suicide twice of which I’m aware, drove your stepmother’s car through a garage, lit your principal’s car on fire, and … this one’s my favorite … showed up to your counselor’s house dressed in a trench coat and heels portraying a hired prostitute?” She let out a small chuckle as she uncrossed her legs and rested her elbows over her knees. “I hope his wife was forgiving.”
I shrugged, and the mood in the small room shifted along with her facial expression.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you think you were unsuccessful with the suicide attempts?”
My head dipped back at her forwardness. “I would have been successful if my dad hadn’t found me.”
“Something tells me a part of you wanted your father to find you.”
She was wrong. He was supposed to have been at work until five o’clock both days. “You’re way off.”
“No, I think I’m getting somewhere … Let me ask you something else. When was the last time you cried?”
She couldn’t be serious. “I don’t cry. You have to have feelings to cry.”
“Did you cry when your mother died?”
No. “I don’t talk about my mother.”
Dr. Conway leaned back in her chair and folded her hands across her lap. “Your father noted you haven’t always been this way. Something had to have happened in your childhood that was so awful, and your brain turned off a switch to protect itself. Medicine isn’t going to help. It’s only going to prolong your ability to turn it back on.”
Silence.
“I’m going to speak with the dean and take you off your meds while you’re here, but Mia, you have to turn the switch back on. You’re the only one who has the power to do it.”
“If someone would tell me what happened to me, it could help speed up this process,” I said through a sigh.
“I wish it were that easy … but the only way for you to break through is if you remember on your own. Both go hand and hand.”
I took my attention from out the window and faced her. “Do you know what happened to me?”
Dr. Conway took a moment to answer. Her big brown eyes looked past me like I’d seen my father’s do so many times before. “From your father’s point of view … yes, but it’s never going to be enough.” She stood and walked over to the bookshelf before plucking a novel and handing it to me. “Here is your first assignment.”
“I don’t read,” I flatly said.
“From this point on, you do.” She took a seat in her chair. “I will see you Monday. You need to be prepared to tell me what you think.”
I looked down at the book titled To Kill a Mockingbird.
“That’s it? I’ve been here for all of five minutes, and you want me to leave and read a stupid book?”
“I’ll see you on Monday, Mia. Enjoy your weekend.” Dr. Conway swiveled in her chair and turned her back to me. “Oh, and leave the door open on your way out for my next appointment.”
The lady had no boundaries, unlike the other counselors I’d seen in the past.
I threw my stack of books across my desk when I reached my room and sprawled out over my bed. The clock above my door read 2:32 PM. Three hours left until dinner.
I stuffed the pillow over my face to block out the light, and not even two seconds later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find a man I’d never seen before with a satchel around his shoulder.
“You’ve got mail,” he said, holding up an envelope. He had to be in his thirties. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened when he smiled, and his black hair fell over his dark hazel eyes.
“Dolor has a mailman?”
He shook his head. “Security guard, still in training. I do the dirty work.”
He was cute, something I could work with. I fisted his shirt at his chest and pulled him into the room without thinking about the consequences. The mail in his hands dropped to the floor at our feet, and the door automatically closed behind us.
His eyes went wide. “I’m not allowe—”
“Oh, hush,” I ordered and pushed him over my bed. I needed this. It was at the top of “Mia’s Hierarchy of Needs,” especially after the day I’d had. He just so happened to be at the right place and time.
I stripped off my clothes in seconds, and his eyes darted back and forth from me to the door, trying to decide which head to listen to. I pulled a condom from its box, the one I’d slipped into my suitcase, knowing it would eventually come in handy. “What’s your name?”
A wicked smile grew across his face. “Oscar.”
“This is your only chance, Oscar,” I said, fanning the condom in the air as I stood naked before him. His lust-filled eyes gave up moral as he quickly undid his belt and pulled down his pants. His manhood sprung free, and I threw the condom over his stomach so he could put it on. “No talking, and don’t you dare try
to kiss me.”
He nodded enthusiastically as he lay back against my bed. His abs flexed as he stroked the condom on in a matter of seconds.
I kneeled over him, straddling him as I gripped his length in one hand. He let out a moan as his eyes raked over my body. It didn’t take long before he was inside me. I closed my eyes as I rocked against him, unable to watch what I was doing to him. His hands cupped my breasts and pinched my nipples as he cursed under his breath.
And at 2:36 PM, the trainee had already reached climax.
Chapter Four
“Moments don’t go away,
they burry and become you.”
—Oliver Masters
TIME STOOD STILL at Dolor. I’d officially been here a week, and everyone walked aimlessly from one class to the next in a fog as the seconds seemed like hours, myself included. I was sure boredom would be the death of me.
The only action—and variety—I got was from Oscar, the trainee, who came by on Tuesdays and Thursdays to drop off letters and useless cash my father sent me.
The only purpose of sex with Oscar was to pass the time and allow me to take control of my mundane schedule. I’d been called many names throughout high school. Slut. Whore. Floozy. You name it—I was called it. It never bothered me in the way it killed other girls’ confidence, and it had almost destroyed Sarah’s, my only so-called acquaintance in high school.
I tried to ignore it, but the crying only got worse in the bathroom stall behind me. Rolling my eyes, I nudged the stall door with my foot to see if it was locked, and it was.
After groaning, I called out, “Please, for the love of god, stop crying.”
But she didn’t.
“Open the damn door,” I said, unsure of why I was irritated by it, only wanting it to stop.
The lock clicked, and weight carried the door open. Sitting over the toilet—pants up, thank god—was a chubby girl with blonde hair and big blue eyes. Her tear-soaked face was red. She looked silently up at me.
“What are you crying over?” I asked her.
She tried to catch a breath as her eyes and nose drained into her hands.
“I made a mistake.” Her voice was shaky and words barely audible.
I leaned against the door, unsure if I had the energy to get involved. It wasn’t sympathy I had for the girl. I honestly couldn’t give two shits as to why she was crying, but I was bored and curious. “What did you do?”
She chewed her lip to stop the trembling. “I had sex with Trey Sullivan.”
Air blew out of my nose as I let out a light chuckle. “And let me guess, he told everyone.” She nodded as another tear fell, and I continued, “And Mallory and her whole posse let you have it? Slut shaming you?”
She nodded again.
“You screw around a lot?”
The girl narrowed her eyes as if my question was insulting.
“Hey, I like to fuck, too. I’ve been with Trey and his micro-dick. You can be honest with me.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and her tears finally stopped. “I don’t know why I do it … I guess I like the attention.”
Exhaling, I fell back against the stall and crossed my arms. “Let me tell you something. The only person you need to worry about is yourself. If having sex with people makes you happy, and it makes you feel good, then who cares what other people think? That’s the problem with people these days … Everyone wants to put others down because of their own insecurities. So, every time someone calls you a slut, what they’re actually saying is, ‘Man, I wish I was secure with my sexuality.’ Anytime someone calls you a tramp, what they’re really saying is, ‘I’m fucking jealous I couldn’t experience it myself.’”
The girl’s eyes went wide, and her smile grew. “You really think so?”
“I know so. It’s been proven single girls who have casual sex with multiple partners have higher self-worth and body image. Look it up if you don’t believe me. They also have higher standards when they are ready to be in a relationship. I’m not saying go out there and sleep around as much as you can … All I’m saying is girls like Mallory and boys like Trey are the ones who are insecure.” I shrugged. “No one has a right to insult something they can’t understand, and tears shouldn’t be wasted on misunderstandings.”
The girl giggled, and I cringed. “You’re unbelievable …” She smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Mia.”
“Sarah,” she said as she pointed at herself. “I think we should be friends, Mia.”
I forced a smile in return. “I don’t do the whole ‘friends’ thing.”
“What do you do, then?”
“Men with more to offer than a micro-penis, for starters …”
We both shared a laugh, and I would never admit it to anyone, but it was the only time I had been genuinely nice to someone.
Jake was the only one I couldn’t seem to avoid since he couldn’t take a hint. He was like an obnoxious dog looking for a bone, and I could only take him in doses. He wasn’t half bad, but that didn’t mean I was going to keep in touch with him after Dolor. Every day, he begged me to join his friends for their midnight rendezvous, and every day I declined.
Until tonight.
I got the impression he would continue to harass me until I agreed. Plus, boredom was eating me alive from the inside out, and I supposed going would be better than reading the book Dr. Conway had given to me last week.
Doors automatically locked on time. Stanley completed his nightly security routine. Midnight came around, and I paced my small dorm room in my flannel pajama shorts and a plain white tee, talking myself out of it at the last minute. Who was I kidding? Shit like this had my name written all over it. My head fell back to see a vent big enough to fit a body through, but I had no idea how I was supposed to reach it.
The desk wasn’t heavy. I moved my bed to the center of the room and somehow managed to lift my desk on top of it before climbing up. Standing over my makeshift mountain, I pushed up the vent to find the bolts already loose. I swear, if there is a dead body up here, I will have both of Jake’s heads—one in each hand.
The distinct sound of Jake’s giggle echoed through the maze in the ceiling. After crawling four blocks to my left, I reached the opening to where the party was going on, and poked my head in to see Alicia’s curly hair below.
Alicia pointed up when she noticed me. “No way!” She moved out of the way. “Someone help her, yeah?”
Ollie appeared under the vent, wearing a black tee, sweatpants, and a smile reaching his exceptional green eyes. “Come on down, love,” he called out, and I pushed my feet through the hole. “I have you.” His fingers wrapped around my ankles before his hands slid up my hips and continued to pull me down until my feet reached the ground. His hands lingered around my waist, reluctant to break the connection.
“It’s about time,” he whispered as he scanned my face, then took my hand and held it high above my head. “Mia, everyone.”
“Mia!” The group repeated in a cheer, and Ollie looked down at me as our arms dropped between us. His mouth quirked up to the side. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
My eyes fell on Jake who sat on the floor wearing a red onesie and a content smile.
Yes, a fucking onesie—with candy canes, I might add.
Ollie’s room had barely any furniture. No desk, no chair, no bed frame. Only a mattress on the floor and his clothes in a pile tucked away in a corner beside the mattress. How the hell was I supposed to get out of here?
“You already know Jake and Alicia. This here is Bria,” Ollie introduced with his hand extended toward the pixie-haired girl sitting on the floor. “And this is my mate, Isaac.” Ollie patted Midnight’s chest beside him, the same guy I’d seen him talking to in the mess hall.
Isaac was without a shirt, showing off his naturally tanned and toned muscles and carrying
a kind of swagger I’d seen before, and I knew immediately we could have some harmless fun together.
Ollie’s green eyes fell back on me. “Have a seat. Tell us your story.”
Everyone else settled back in their spots, either on the mattress or on the floor as I took a seat next to Ollie on the floor over the blanket.
“I’d rather not.” All my opening up was saved for Dr. Conway and group therapy. At least they were licensed, unlike the peers sitting before me who couldn’t be older than twenty-one. They had their own problems, their own judgments, and their own opinions. All these kids wanted was something else to keep their minds off their own complicated life.
“We’re all screw-ups here, Mia. Give us something to talk about,” Bria begged, unknowingly proving my point.
“Anger issues? Lawbreaker? Psychotic?” Isaac rambled off.
Five pairs of anxious eyes were on me.
“I killed my mom,” I somewhat lied, and a stillness took over the room as the crew shot glances back and forth. Maybe I didn’t kill her per se, but I definitely played a role in her death.
“Shit,” Ollie breathed, reaching into his pocket.
Isaac held out the palm of his hand. “Pay up, Masters.”
My eyes went wide as I watched the exchange of currency. “You’re kidding. You guys made a bet? Getting me here was all a game to you?”
“Relax, darling,” Isaac said as he pocketed his winnings. “Don’t take it personal.”
The group broke out into conversation as I sat in discomfort. For one, I would not peg any of them to belong in a place like this. Jake was a push-over, you could tell by the way he leaned on Alicia for social support. And I admit Alicia was cool. She didn’t take the snickers from Bria and called her out on her shit. Alicia was beautiful. Her skin was smooth and dark, her eyes were the color of a hazelnut, and thick black ringlets framed her oval face. But the icing on the cake was the precious mole on her cheek. If only I were into girls …
Bria, on the other hand, portrayed herself as the sexy one with her cropped shirt and no bra. I was not judging. Whatever made her feel good about herself. She sought after the small moments when she would adjust her positioning, her head darting between Isaac and Ollie, taking notice in the way they looked at her, or if they looked over at her at all. She had a nice body, small perky breasts, and a long curvy torso. But as soon as she opened her mouth, her crooked teeth and annoying voice ruined her image.
Stay With Me (Stay With Me Series Book 1) Page 4