Pretty and Reckless (5 page)

ELISE

Soft music flowed through my bathroom while I tossed honey and Epsom salt into my bath, and then slowly sunk myself down into the scorching water. Candlelight flickered around me as I moved my hands through the water and watched the ripples flow in their wake.

I’d tried to drown myself once. I was fourteen and it was on the eve of what my dad referred to as, “the day she died.” I’d held my breath before ducking my head underneath the calm water and after only a few seconds, my lips slowly opened. The water seeped into my mouth, filling up my lungs, while my nose fought for air. But I couldn’t take it.

Before everything went black, before my life was officially over, my head flew up. Water dripped down my face while I took deep, heavy breaths and mentally screamed at myself for being such a coward. I didn’t have the guts to go through with it. I needed someone else to do the job. I needed that starting push in front of the train. I needed someone to hold the pillow to my face and refuse to let go. I thought pills would do the job for me, but they failed me every time.

So on my eighteenth birthday, I’d decided I was done. I obviously didn’t want it bad enough if I kept failing. My mind switched from wanting to be a victim to being a survivor. I wasn’t going to allow him, or them to win by taking myself out. I was going to live. I was going to make myself be happy and let all of those sick, sadistic bastards know they couldn’t bring me down. I decided to find my inner bitch, my inner fighter, and run with her.

I jerked up at the sound of my name being called from my bedroom. “I’m in the bathtub,” I yelled, tilting my head back to relax.

I shrieked when the door flew open and my dad stalked in. I instantly sunk one hand underneath the water, putting my hand in-between my legs, and draped an arm across my breasts.

“Do you mind?” I snapped, glaring at him. He’d never understood the concept of boundaries.

“Shut the hell up, Elise,” he said, looking at me. His eyes didn’t linger, but he didn’t look away, either. “I just want you to know I’m going out of town again for a day or so. I’ve asked Marlon to stay behind if you need a ride anywhere. Try to stay out of trouble.”

Thank God. He wouldn’t know I was going to see Weston tomorrow. I wouldn’t tell Marlon I was going anywhere and take a cab.

I rolled my eyes, and my hands shivered underneath the water. “I’m not going to go out and do anything stupid. You know that, so why don’t you quit repeating the same speech everyday? Get over it and move the hell on. I have.”

His nose turned up as he curled his upper lip and took a whiff of the scent drifting through the room. “Your mom used to burn those candles.”

I smiled at the mention of her. “I like them.”
Lavender Vanilla.
 
It was my favorite scent. Bella had bought me a candle a few years ago and told me the same thing. So I stocked up on them and burned them every night.
 
 

 
“I hate them. They fucking reek. Get rid of them,” he said, in disgust.

Anything that reminded him of her I had to get rid of them. He’d taken every picture, every memory, everything away so I couldn’t remember her. He didn’t want to re-live the memories. He couldn’t be reminded of the woman who’d left him. He hated her. He despised her more than anyone. And he hated my resemblance to her.

ELISE

“I’ve missed you, girl,” Holly screeched, walking in front of me in eight-inch heels with a drink in each hand. The brooding bouncer moved the rope to the side, letting us into the VIP area, and then placed it back behind us. Even though we were underage, all we had to do was hand over a few hundred-dollar bills, show a little cleavage, and we’d get our own table.

I’d been jealous of Holly when we were growing up. I wanted her looks. She reminded me of a Barbie doll. She was tall, almost-six two, skinny, and her hair was a natural blonde that people paid hundreds of dollars to get.

I wanted her family. They weren’t dysfunctional. Her parents were still together, and spent their free time traveling the world. Her Botox-injected mom took her shopping. They’d got manicures and lip-fillers together. She had the mother-daughter relationship I’d always wished for – minus the plastic surgery.

But we’d been growing apart the past few months. I was starting to realize my life was less chaotic when we weren’t together. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her. She’d been there for me through my hardest times, my sidekick during my drunken binges, and we’d even shared a jail cell a time or two.

Even through all of that, I knew our futures were different. When we’d gotten in trouble, she didn’t get sent away like I did. Her parents would only shake their heads and take away her credit card for a few days. She never had to worry about people hurting her, or when she’d ever be happy.

I grabbed a drink from her hand and took a gulp. “Maybe if you’d get out of your boyfriend’s ass you’d see me more,” I said, giving her a look. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, but she’d been ditching me for him more and more lately and then trying to act like it was my fault.

She waved her hands through the air, her bright pink lips sucking on her straw. “You know how new relationships are.” She fell down on the couch next to me. “Plus, we made a pact that we were going to do the best friend thing. I was supposed to date Quinton, you were supposed to date Oliver and we’d hang out all of the time.”

“Yeah, well that plan went to hell when Oliver decided to use me as a personal punching bag.”

“He was drunk, Elise.” She forced a laugh. “You have to admit, we’ve done some pretty stupid shit drunk.”

“Sure we have, but it never included causing physical body harm,” I argued.

She sighed loudly and flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “He made a mistake, give him another chance. He feels bad about it.”

“Hell no,” I snapped, standing up from the couch and gesturing to the sea of blurry bodies gyrating on the dance floor. “There are plenty of men out there. I don’t need to settle for some woman abusing asshole.”

“But why not, baby?”

I whipped around at the sound of his cocky voice. “Seriously Holly,” I shouted, signaling to Oliver and Quinton standing in front of me with a glass in their hands. “You invited them?”

“I thought you two could talk it out,” she said, sauntering over to kiss Quinton on the lips.
 

“This was supposed to be a girl’s night,” I said, taking a step back away from Oliver.

“I know,” she whined. “I told Quinton that.”

Quinton, wearing a suit, wrapped his arms around Holly’s waist and then dipped his hands down to grab her ass. “We thought you ladies might like the surprise. Plus, I didn’t want any assholes trying to get with my girl.”

I rolled my eyes at him in disgust. “Elise, baby, come on,” Oliver begged, spreading his arms out. “I made a mistake. You were drinking. I was drinking. Things got out of hand.”

“Listen,” Quinton said, releasing Holly and walking in-between the two of us. He looked straight at me. “Quit acting like you have fucking morals, Elise. You know you miss his cock, so hike your pretty little dress up and give him what you both use each other for.” He threw his hands out towards Oliver. “You know he was on X, and anything goes when you’re that fucked-up. You’re in a completely different zone.”

My eyes swung back to Oliver. “You were on ecstasy?” I shouted furiously.

He shrugged shamelessly. “Yeah, I popped one before you came over. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out like you are now because you’ve been acting like a goddamned prude lately, but you know how much better sex feels when you’re tripping.’”

Holly came to my side and slapped my arm. “Elise, you have become a bore lately.” She held out a pill in front of me, stuck it onto her tongue and washed it down with her vodka and cranberry. “And you know I have an extra for you,” she said, pulling out another and holding it out to me.

I shook my head. “I told you I can’t do that shit anymore. My dad has been drug testing me non-stop.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” She asked, suspiciously.

“Since he’s threatening to take away my apartment.”

“Move in with me,” Oliver suggested, moving in closer.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” I told him, holding my drink out to stop him from coming any farther. “I can’t believe you think we’d get back together, let alone me move in with you.”

“What the fuck?” He asked, defensively. “It’s not like I did any damage, you still look pretty fucking good, baby.”

“I look good because I packed make-up on my face, and I’m not moving around.” I held back the urge to throw my drink in his face and then kick him down like he had me.

“You’re really not going to forgive me? You fucking kidding me?” He straightened the collar on his shirt, his lips twisting into an angry scowl.

I took a long drawl from the straw in my glass. “No, I’m really not.”

Holly fell back down onto Quinton’s lap on the couch. “Quit being a snob, Elise. Fuck, what happened to my best friend?”

“I’m not being a snob,” I yelled over the music. “I don’t want to be around him, and as my best friend you should understand that,” I said, my voice turning cold.

“Fine, fuck you bitch,” Oliver said, letting out a resentful laugh. He grabbed a women passing by around the waist and brought her into his chest. “You think you’re the only willing pussy around this place?” He nodded his head Quinton’s way. “Call me later, man.”

I grabbed a shot glass on the table, drained its contents, and then threw it at him. “Go fuck yourself.”

The girl giggled when he grabbed her ass and pulled her against his crotch. “Oh baby, I plan on someone doing that for me tonight.”

I turned my back on him, ignoring the insults flinging from his mouth, and crashed down onto the opposite end of the couch. I looked over to see Quinton with his tongue down Holly’s throat.

Quinton’s eyes twinkled in interest when he noticed me staring and he pulled away from Holly. “How about you join us?” He asked, running his hands along his chin. “Tell me how I compare to my friend.”

I looked at him flabbergasted, took another shot as I flipped him off, and stormed away.

ELISE

Good morning! Don’t forget about me today. I’ll have donuts as bribery.

-Wes

Damn, he was relentless.

I threw my phone down onto the bathroom counter, dried off my hair with the towel, and took a good look at my face in the mirror. I trailed the tips of my fingers along my bare cheek. The bruises were slowly beginning to fade and my busted lip was healing. I hoped my ribs would to play catch up soon.

***

“Let me call you back,” the teenage girl half-whispered into her cell phone when she noticed me walk in. She let out a loud giggle before hanging up and moving her attention to me.

I’d managed to dodge Marlon, sneak out and hail a cab to the address Weston had texted me. I showed the driver the address, shoved a pair of Chanel sunglasses over my hung-over eyes, and stared out the window until we reached a charming, bright yellow residential house that had been converted into an office building. A sign held up by two chains and a wooden post let me know I was entering the office of Dr. Wendy
Milkins
.

“Hi,” the girl chirped, full of pep. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I’m looking for Weston,” I answered, not quite sure how to explain my reasoning for being there. I looked around the room for him.

I’d only come to tell him this wasn’t happening, and then I was turning around and walking out the door. I wasn’t going to play the role of his test monkey, sitting in front of him with a tissue in my hand and spill out my deepest, darkest secrets.

She pushed her sparkly blue fingernails through her bleached blonde curls, and then picked up the phone. “Hey,” she said into the speaker. “That girl is here.”

That girl? What did she mean ‘that girl?’ Was I some kind of code name?

She nodded a few times, chewing on a pen, and hung up. I waited for her instructions on where to go, but she just creepily stared.

“I see my donut bribe worked.” I turned around to find Weston standing tall in the doorway with a donut in his hand. His curls were swept back into a baseball cap and he looked casual in a sweatshirt and jeans. “Donuts always work magic,” he added, grinning, clearly pleased with himself that I’d shown up.
 

I hiked my leg out to the side, looking at him bitterly. “No, it was more along the lines of your irritating determination. I knew you wouldn’t let it go until I came here and shut this shit down.”

He chuckled, his eyes dazzling with eagerness. “Follow me, princess,” he said, jerking his head towards the room behind him. I huffed, following his instructions and landed in an office. He stayed on my heels, shutting the door, and pointed to a black sofa sitting in the middle of the room.

The office was typical. I’d been to plenty of psychiatrists and this one was just as generic as the others. A couch sat in the middle with a box of tissues conveniently sitting next to them on a table. The walls were lined with self-help books that would never be read, and a doctorate degree hung high behind the desk.

“Take off your sunglasses,” he said, his tone demanding.

I shook my head. “I have a headache,” I grumbled, moving away from him to sit down.

“You’re not going to sit here this entire time with sunglasses covering your eyes.”

I snarled, and slowly dragged the glasses off my face. “You happy?” I asked, squinting a few times, allowing my eyes to adjust to the excruciating bright room, and looked over at him wretchedly.

“I know you’re not hung over,” he replied, astounded.

“I made it here, didn’t I? Don’t judge me.”

He shook his head and walked towards the front of the room. “I’m sorry, but did you forget that you were just beat up the other night? Don’t you think you need to start making better choices?”

“I went out with a girlfriend,” I replied, in annoyance. “I wasn’t doing anything bad.” He scoffed. “Why did you even want me here?” I asked, changing the subject. I wasn’t here to talk about my decisions. “What do you want from me?”

He opened up a cardboard box sitting on the desk, pulled out a donut and handed it over to me wrapped up in a napkin. “I want us to talk,” he said, finishing off the donut in his hand and grabbing another.

“I told you, I’m not interested in doing therapy with you or anyone else.”

“It’s not therapy,” he replied, sitting down on the edge of the desk.

“Then what is it?” I asked, sarcastically.

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s us hanging out,” he held up the donut. “We’re conversing over a meal.” I rolled my eyes. “Give me three meetings like I asked, and that’s it. I won’t ask for anything more, but you did promise. I think it says a lot about people who stay true to their word.”

I took a bite, chewing slowly. “Fine, three visits,” I said, swallowing. “And if I don’t want to talk about something, you have to let it go.”

 
“Got it.” He hopped off the desk, stuck his hand out, and I grabbed it in mine. “Deal.” Pulling away slowly, he looked down and frowned at his now-sticky hand. “And you’re already playing dirty,” he said, waving his palm up at me.

I laughed, licking the glaze from my fingers. “I have a habit of playing dirty, doctor.”

I gulped, my heart hammering in my chest when I realized it was about to start. This was going to happen. Weston was searching for the key to unlock my secrets, and as much as I protested it, curiosity pecked at my brain to see what he’d manage to dig up.

He sat down, wiped his hands off, and stared at me with concentration. “Is there somewhere you’d like to start?” He asked.

This was a different man than the one I’d met three years ago. He wasn’t newly graduated and too blind to find the right way to do his job. He’d grown, becoming more experienced.

“No,” I drew out, squirming in my seat. “Not, really.”

“Rule number one, you have to be completely comfortable with me,” he said, his eyes locking with mine.

“You’ve seen me naked, I’m pretty comfortable with you,” I said, faking a laugh. It was sad I’d rather a guy see me completely naked physically then emotionally.

“Yeah, I’m not looking for that type of comfortable. Just because you can strip off your clothes for a man doesn’t make you confident and content with yourself.” I frowned. “I want you to feel comfortable talking to me.”

“I’m not going to feel comfortable talking to you considering
I don’t want to
talk to you
,”
I hissed. “I’m only here so you’ll shut up.”

“If you want to leave, I’m not going to make you stay,” he said, his voice turning agitated while he scratched his jaw. “I tried, but if you don’t want my help, then go.”

“It’s that easy?”

His hands folded in his lap. “It’s that easy, but don’t call me again if you need help.”
 

His response shocked me. That would’ve been the easiest choice, right? I’d get up, walk out, and never talk to Weston again. So why wasn’t I doing that? Why was I still sitting there staring at him?

“The fact that you’re debating whether or not to leave tells me a lot.” He grinned wide, his bright white teeth showing. “Elise Parks, I think you want to talk to me.”

I scowled. “One session, one, and that’s it. I’m only doing this because I paid for a cab ride here and don’t want to waste my money.”

“I’ll take whatever reason you give me. Now that we got that over with, where do you want to start? You can start talking. If you don’t want to, I will. We’ll play by your rules.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I want to help you get happy.”

I wanted to tell him that would never happen. I’d forever be this bitter skeleton crawling in her own skin that she so desperately wanted to tear off and drag the pain out of. But I didn’t. I just stayed silent, not knowing what part of me I wanted to expose.
 
 

“Are you still doing drugs?” He asked, not even giving me the chance to think of my own conversation starter.
 

“No. I’ve been clean for three years. I haven’t taken an illegal pills since my last release when we met.”

His face lit up as a smile drew across his face. “Good. I’m proud of you.” His smile fell. “Obviously you’re still drinking, though.”

“I hardly think that’s a problem. Everyone I know drinks.”

He looked at me in disapproval. I was sure I wasn’t his only patient who drank underage. “Sure, but it’s against the law.”

“So are you going to tell me you’ve never drank in college before you were twenty-one?”

“I’m telling you that’s none of your business,” he said, dismissively.

I rolled my eyes. “That tells me your answer. I’m not doing drugs, but I still drink, and yes, before you ask, I still have sex.” I paused, debating whether or not I wanted to ask the question floating through my mind. “Do you think I’m crazy?” I asked, lamely.

“I absolutely know you’re not crazy.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “Now I know you’re lying to make me feel better. I’m fucked up in the head. Nobody does the things I do, or has thoughts in my head like I do, without being fucked up.”

He shook his head, a smile battling at his lips. “No one is truly fucked up in the head,” he said, laughing gently. “So quit thinking that. You’re either being overdramatic or you’ve been severely misdiagnosed.”

I snorted. “No one is truly fucked up?” I asked, and he nodded. “John
Gacy
? Ted Bundy …”

“I get it, I get it,” he said, cutting me off from rambling off every serial killer I could think of. “Those people truly are, ‘
fucked up in the head,’
as you put it, but that’s definitely not you. As much as you can be a loose cannon at times and make some stupid decisions.” He shook his head when I flipped him off. “You’re still far from being a psychopath like them and you know it.”

“Then how do you explain me?”

“You’re confused. You’re pissed off about something and acting out because of it.” I nodded in agreement. “Why don’t we start off with what happened the other night when I picked you up?”

“Seriously?”
 

He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t make you talk about it then.”

I bit my fingernails, the bitter taste of fingernail polish floating along my tongue. “I was over at my boyfriends, well ex-boyfriend’s house. I guess you could say things went sour.”

Sour.
That was a decent word for the ass beating he gave me. The sad thing was that I wasn’t pissed about Oliver hitting me. I’d been hit before. I was mad that I didn’t have enough fight in myself to win. Every time I lost a battle, I was pissed off at myself.

“How long did you two date?”

“Only a few weeks.” I wasn’t sure if we’d actually been dating. Our dates consisted of going to dinner or a club, getting wasted, and then heading directly to his bed.

“So not too long, how did you meet?”

“My father.”

My dad would only set me up with men who were rich and had a good name. Oliver was the son of an affluent man in Congress. Those were the only ones suitable for marriage in his eyes. Oliver was far from being suitable for marriage. He liked to fuck and party. That was about it. He’d never be a “one woman man.”

“What happened?”

“I found a pair of cheap panties in his bed while riding him.” His back stiffened against his chair at my confession. He wasn’t expecting me to be so blunt. “You better put on your seatbelt for this rollercoaster, doctor,” I told him. “Me telling you about riding his cock isn’t shit if you want to know my story.”
 

He shifted in his chair and blew out a breath. “I can handle whatever you want to share with me,” he fired back, his tone challenging.

“Oliver couldn’t even find a good excuse to argue with. He wanted to explain himself, convince me to believe his lies, but I told him to take me home, which he didn’t want to do. So he pinned me to the wall instead. When I tried to leave, he attacked me.” I’d fought back, using every fingernail, bone, and power in my body.

I decided to leave out the part where he’d been on ecstasy. Weston would’ve assumed I was doing it with him.

“Have you talked to him since the incident?” He asked, not taking his eyes off of me.

“I saw him last night” I held up my hand to stop him when he gave me a look. “And I told him to leave me alone. He’s called a few times, but I haven’t been answering. Fuck that asshole.”

“What did your dad say when he saw your face?”

“That it’s my fault.”

“What?” He asked, unable to hold in the shock. He was just getting a taste of the filthy secrets on my plate.

“According to my father, I attacked him because that’s what Saint Oliver told him. He can’t believe me because I’m a lying whore.”

“Why would you attack him?”

I flicked my hand through the air. “It doesn’t matter. It never matters.”

“It does goddamned matter, Elise. You come to me, and you tell me the truth. I want to know everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. You tell me your story. I want your happy chapters, I want your embarrassing chapters, and I want the dark, filthy chapters that you have under locks. I want the whole story, and you’re going to give it to me. I’m relentless, but I will help you.” I gulped, and looked down at my lap. How the hell was I supposed to reply to that?