Luca (I Love the Way You Lie #1) (4 page)

“Don’t you just love Avicii?” She squeaked from the bathroom. “‘Levels’ is my favorite song.” Her singsong voice sang the chorus as she readied for the day. Of course, it was the extended version. I could hear her feet landing her dance moves against the tiled floor. Ugh.

No longer having the solace of my own room, I sought it elsewhere. And praying I’d find it quickly.

“Yep, I can’t get enough of them myself,” I called out quickly, grabbing my dairy for a quick exit. I wasn’t lucky enough to make it out in time.

“Wait! Listen to this dirty beat about to drop…” Her arms poised above her head as she conducted what was now the dirty beat that was about to drop.

“Umm, while I’m all up for dirty beats, I’ve got therapy. Later,” I lied and hauled ass out of the room. My legs carried me like the wind as I power-walked to safety. My new safe place was the base of a black walnut tree on the grounds.

Although, it wasn’t lost on me that the black walnut is a source of toxicity. Especially to other plant species. It was oddly comforting—peaceful even. I was envious of the thick, black furrowed bark. I secretly wished I had thicker skin. Perhaps another of my flaws. Thus, why I’m temporarily locked away to learn, heal, and discover who I am.

It was a damp, foggy day. The type of day one might stay in bed for. The sun tried to peek through the haze to no avail. I lived for these days—a perfect reflection of my constitution. The thick corded knots served as good of a place as any to lean against. So, I lowered myself Indian style on a soft patch of dirt and opened to the next page in my diary. After several minutes of trying to articulate a single thought, I gave up and decided to just enjoy the solace of the morning.

My eyes closed, I focused on the mundane. The chirp notes of a blue jay that I suspected was protecting her nest. The leaves rustling in the light wind. The distant croak of a frog. And the weighted foot falls heading my way. Weighted foot falls? I refused to open my eyes, to acknowledge his insistence. Maybe he’d go away. Doubtful. His steps slowed to a stop. I could already smell him. His scent. All male. All danger—potent danger. The click of his lighter was the first sound. Well, that and the change in my breathing. Fuck
you,
body. Fuck you. I curse you. I hated my beating heart right now. I hated my lungs for expanding so thoroughly. And him for causing it.

“Need a paper bag?” he asked, squatting down before me.

My eyes flew open. Rage. White-hot rage colored my vision. His fiery eyes nearly distracted me. “Excuse me?” What. The. Fuck?

“I think you’re hyperventilating. I’m asking if you need medical assistance. Hence, the paper bag. Deep breaths and all that.” His smirk lingered a bit too long. I wanted to kick his ass. As if…

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I gave my best eye-roll.
Motherfucker
.

His throaty laugh set my skin ablaze. Good god that laugh. I felt my cheeks turn pink. He reached over to skim his fingers across my cheek but I moved away, abruptly holding my breath. I couldn’t trust my body around him. I was still in mourning…mourning the loss of my virginity to an asshole that didn’t deserve it, wading my way through the muck of feelings that blurred my thoughts daily.

He lit a cigarette, never taking his eyes off me. The intensity was going to be the death of me. I mean, who does he think he is? “Tell me something about yourself,” he threw out along with a puff of smoke.

“You sought me out, remember? You tell me something first,” I challenged, but he continued to smirk. Ugh, it was maddening.

He nodded as if he came to peace with something. “I’m a prince from Dubai,” he stated flatly.

I laughed out loud. A hearty laugh that only comes once in a while if you’re fortunate. And this was one of those rare times. In fact, I don’t know the last time I had a good laugh. And here, my dangerous, pyro, chain-smoking stalker is the one giving it to me. His eyebrows rose in question. My hand went to my abdomen to hold my stomach muscles from aching in hysterics.

“Are you done?” he questioned, pausing before the next drag of his cigarette.

“Not nearly.” I smiled, shaking my head. Dubai?

“You’re up rock-star. What’s your truth?” he asked, flicking his cigarette to the grass.

Hmm? What was my truth? Certainly not the truth, that’s for fuck sure.

“I didn’t win prom queen. I went postal and torched the school. Simple.” I shrugged. The lie rolled easily from my tongue and I waited for his reaction. It was equally simple, just the curve of his lip hinting at his perfect dimple.

He removed a roll of wintergreen mints from his pocket, popping one into his mouth with ease. Then, he turned and left without a word. What did I say? He was an anomaly, and that fucked with my already fucked up head. I pushed my back into the gnarled tree truck, gaining the much-needed pain. Override, that’s it. I needed to override this whole episode with some pain. Pain, I understood. Luca, I did not. The girl in me wanted to call out to him. My self-respect overrode that shit. Fuck him. He’s mental. What did I expect? I was in a crazy house full of fucking crazy people. Was I expecting normal? Well, yes and no. Maybe respectful. However, this pyro was anything but…

~~~

I had no choice but to be down with the sickness in Jean’s office. It reeked of therapy. Overgrown ferns in the corners, deadened leaves be damned. File folders neatly piled on the right of her credenza. A blue box of Kleenex to my right for easy access. Her bifocals down the bridge of her nose, looking down at me. Bitch. With her weight on her forearms, she leaned forward in question.

“So, Allison. How are you finding it here?” She thumbed through my folder, reading over the notes. Making her notes here and there. I hated the silence. Hated being forced to speak when I didn’t have the will to. Her occasional congenial smile pissed me off.

“It’s fine, Miss? Well, actually I could be better. I’m not thrilled about my roommate,” I spouted off. Might as well. I couldn’t stand her actually. She wanted the truth. Well, here it is.

“It’s just Jean. No ‘Miss’ here,” she explained.

Okay, just Jean
, I thought.

“Hmm…” She sat back in her leather desk chair, her eyebrow arched curiously.

“Oh? Umm, how about she’s a druggie. And she fucking dances around crazy like the devil.” I crossed my arms and tapped my foot impatiently. Well?

“We don’t speak like that here, Allison. Whatever her troubles are…they aren’t any less or more than yours. We strive for equality, an even playing field. We provide the help that’s needed, and you embrace the help that’s given. Besides, she was matched with you for a reason,” she said, throwing her glasses on my thick file.

“Is this a cult? Are you the leader? What’s the deal?” I accused, standing up from my chair. Not that I had experience with places or institutions, but all this
kumbaya
shit was very cult-like for sure.

She removed a yellow legal pad from the top right drawer of her desk. “How long have you been feeling paranoid, Allison?” she asked, writing down god knows what. Fuck me sideways.

“I’m not paranoid. Just making an observation.” I needed to change the subject quick before they switched my meds. “Umm, what’s the deal with Luca?” I murmured, not really wanting to ask. However, my curiosity got the better of me.

“What about Luca?” she asked abruptly. “He’s a patient here like you. Why do you ask?” She grabbed her Poland water bottle and waited.

I shrugged. “Just asking. He’s weird; that’s all.” I wasn’t sure how to exactly articulate what I really wanted to say. I wanted to pry. However, I knew protocol. Patient-doctor privilege disallowed that. Whatever.

“A word to the wise, Allison. Focus on your recovery first,” was all she said, wrapping up our session. All my mind heard was the elusiveness in her statement. “How are you doing? Have you found forgiveness in your heart?” she questioned flatly.

This was a topic I hated more than Luca.

“Forgiveness? What does that even mean?” I huffed. My strides were long across her office; I needed to pace. This subject was not my favorite. My quiet shame. “Who am I forgiving, anyway?” I continued, my breaths labored.

“Why don’t you have a seat? And you know exactly what I mean.” Her arm extended to where she wanted me to sit. The other continued to write on her pad.

Ugh.
Shut up!
I wanted to scream.
You stupid bitch.

“What’s standing in the way of your recovery, Allison, is your self-forgiveness. Your depression stems from that. Why don’t we start there?” She dropped her ballpoint pen, straightening her spine. The healthy part of me knew she was just doing her job. The unhealthy part, which was dominant as of late, declared war.

I braced my fingers on my head in frustration. “We’re done here.” I grabbed my diary and left, slamming the door behind me. Anger flushed my face. I was running; it’s what I did. I internalized everything. The painful thoughts were buried deep within the darkest corners of my mind. However, I wore the depression and rage dutifully on my face. A mirrored reflection.

Utterly shattered, I was now a jagged piece of what remained of me. My frustration had me wanting to rip my hair out. I was here because of my own stupidity. My mind betraying me so thoroughly. I didn’t know heads from tails in my own life. Inwardly, I knew the caustic truth. I was so tired of being here. And yet every step I took was toward him. I was birthed with the middle name mistake. All I wanted to be was less like him and more like me.

My mistake’s name was my older brother’s best friend—Scully. I crushed on him since I could remember. A buff, blond Irish boy whose athletic abilities were known across counties. I suspected his sexual exploits went further. That made me green with envy and jealous to the point of nausea. I hated him as much as I loved him. I swore I’d try to get over it. Though, it was very doubtful. The healthy part of me, however small…wanted my life back. I needed to be in control again. At least of my feelings. It sucks being crushed by someone you trusted. And it sucks even more to be betrayed by said person. Shame was the new color I wore.

This therapist bitch would have me believing I committed a crime. Psychobabble shit… I rounded the corner in a huff, slowing my stride as I approached my door. The crazy thing was…even though I was in a hospital setting, I didn’t want to appear crazy. Or the craziest. Which
was
crazy. What the fuck did I care what they thought of me? Not two minutes before I reached to grab my doorknob, thin, cold fingers locked around my wrist.

“Hey! Where you going so fast?” The slut, Sarah, asked.

I may be new; however, instinct told me her game. She was one of those self-entitled, elitist girls who thought her shit didn’t stink. Name of her game…her pussy for pleasure. Shallow whore of a girl. That’s all she had to offer. Well, that ended whatever problems tinged her being. From the look of her wide, dilated pupils, it was a fistful, which was written all over her over-made face. False-eyelashes and all…

Removing my hand chastely, I asked, “What’s it to you?” I stepped aside, pushing my chest out.

She shrugged, batting her eyes demurely.
As fucking is.
“And you are?”

I waited a beat. Did I get that right?
And you are
? Who did she think she was? “I am Allison. And
you
are?” I asked…knowing full well who this cunt was. Yep, that’s right, I said it. She was a C-U-N-T. It was etched on her face and flowed from her pores.

“Well, we haven’t been formally introduced… I’m Sarah.” She extended her pale, veiny hand. I frowned, but extended to greet her.

“Allison.” I nodded, shaking her hand. Now what? Did she want to be buddies? How fucking awkward.

“I thought we could have a quick chat. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not looking to be a bitch. But I just want to say… If Luca show’s any preference, it means shit. Just saying. I’m just looking out for you. You’re new…” She buffed her nails on her jeans trying her hardest to look innocent and bright-eyed.

Little bitch. “No worries, chick. I’m not here to gain a boyfriend. So…” I gave her my best
what the fuck ever
look.

She signed loudly. “Yeah, well… I’ve heard that before. He’s not the committal type of guy. That’s not his game.” She shrugged. “Just wanted to give you the heads up. His elusiveness is appealing to most girls. Heck, you’d have to be dead not to be attracted to him. Just sayin’. Ya know, girl to girl.” A fake, toothy smile graced her bitched-out face.

I opened my door, despite the blaring dance music. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Closing the door behind me, I rested with my head against the cold steel door. Fucking bitch on wheels. Ugh. My ever-energetic roommate was jumping on her bed to some house music concoction. Fuck.

“Hey, you! I’m psyched you’re back. You look stressed,” she said mid-jump. “Care to share?” Her legs dipped behind her back as if she were airborne off a ski jump.

I prayed silently to the ceiling, good-fucking-god-almighty. Note to self: No good comes from using drugs…

“I’m totally fine. Just kinda tired.” I toed around her bed to get to mine. She never broke her jumping pace. “I think I’m gonna take a nap. If you could lower
that
”—I pointed to her radio. Suddenly, the weight of the day tugged me into exhaustion—”I’d really appreciate it,” I said, yawning.

She jumped off the bed—an animated ex-drug-Pollyanna. Fucking
Lithium
was stealing people’s souls. Damn, I was one to talk. My sensory nerves were floating like feathers. Ignoring my roomies incessant prattling about what she was going to eat for lunch. I stuffed my ear buds in and drifted off to
Radiohead’s Creep.

When you were here before
Couldn’t look you in the eye
You’re just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
I wish I was special
You’re so fucking special…
But, I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here…

~~~

My dreams are disturbing—dark. Not only dark in color, but also dark in nature—content. I was recently told by my elitist therapist…darkness and light are what make up humanity. So, in many shapes and forms, this could also be seen as confronting the darkness to get to light or confronting your fears.
Sounds plausible. Though, everything that came from her mouth irked me. She irked me. Thus, all the psychobabble had me itching to punch her face in. She mistook my nod, as interest for her to continue.
The darkness in your dreams represents the ignored truth—Allison. Your subconscious, fear of the unknown, transcending ego.
What? Transcending ego? What a load of shit. The only ego here was hers
. What is it you’re ignoring or afraid of? You need to face this fear and look within to find the source.