The Read And Weep Bundle: Anonymous, Perfectly Hopeless, Run (4 page)

Elle tapped her fingernails incessantly watching the visitors enter the room. One in particular lit up at the sight of her. He quickly made his way to the table his sights set on
her as she stared across the room.

She studied Hart closely; he found a spot and pulled out his journal—again. As every table filled with visitors, goose bumps prickled her skin and tears secretly stung her eyes watching Hart all alone.

“Finally I got the okay from your Mom.” Pauly took the seat across from Elle. “I didn’t think she was ever going to let me up here.”

She forced her attention on Pauly. “That’s probably because she didn’t want to come herself.”

Pauly grinned and shifted forward quickly. “Well are you following the rules? Mike said when he was in rehab if you follow the rules they let you out a lot sooner.”

Elle sighed. “I think there’s a lot more to it than Mike’s interpretation. Besides Mike was in here for pot wasn’t he?”

Pauly shrugged. “What do you do every day?”

“Talk. There’s a lot of talking, a lot of them trying to pry my feelings out of me and medication. They seem to think everyone here will be a whole lot better with pills of some kind.” The tapping was back. Pauly placed a hand over hers ending it before she drove him mad.

“Are you feeling any better?” He squeezed her hand. “It doesn’t seem like it.”

Elle drifted back to Hart. She watched his pen fly quickly across the paper. She wondered what he was writing. She hadn’t even bothered to start writing since she got there.

“Who is that?” Pauly asked, he raised an eyebrow at the agitated guy in the corner scrawling in a ratty journal, the seat next to him housed one of his feet instead of a visitor.

“Just some guy,” Elle pulled away from Pauly’s grip.

“Some guy that you’d rather stare at than talk to me. If you want I can go. I wouldn’t want to take up your precious time.” Pauly flexed his jaw growing a bit rigid.

“Do whatever you want, Pauly.” Elle snapped. “Since when are you so grouchy?”

Pauly ran a hand across his buzzed head, his eyes softened as he looked at her. “I’m sorry. I just really wish you weren’t here. I wish you were home with all of us. I miss being around you.”

She stiffened at his words. Avoiding his warm brown eyes that at one time made her feel safe and happy.

“Well, we know that’s not going to happen anytime soon. So maybe you should finally accept that.” She jerked away before he could grab her hand and try to comfort her.

Pauly pressed his palms into the table and stood up. He pursed his lips avoiding what he wanted to say and
left without even a goodbye.

Elle’s heart slowed to a more normal beat. She dropped
her head down on the table, pressing her face against the cool wood. She stared at her hand, wiggling one finger at a time.

A rush of air blew strands of her hair softly against her face as Hart’s journal hit the table. He to
ok Pauly’s spot.

“He didn’t look happy.”

Her silence was his cue to try again.

“Trouble in paradise?”

She raised her head, her eyes falling on his smug lips. “That’s because he’s not happy. Nobody is. The only one who seems to enjoy being in this place is you.” Her head thudded against the tabletop.

“I’ve been in worse places, believe me this isn’t so bad.” He followed the length of her hair across the table watching her play dead or whatever it was she was doing. “So, what does he think he can do for you?”

“What do you mean?” Her blue eyes locked with his. And she shot him a dirty look.

“Usually they all think they have the magic answer to fix you. Or know what’s wrong.” He flicked his fingers across his journal. “So what do you think
wise
guy
wants for you?”

She let out a puff of air. “Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Why do you avoid answering them?” His eyebrow lifted.

“Because it doesn’t matter.” S
he sat up and moved closer. “And as for questions, I have one for you. Why doesn’t anyone visit you?”

He studied the table, plucking away at his journal almost incessantly. “They know the drill. I think they got tired of coming down here. It’s not a big deal so don’t feel sorry for me or anything.”

She slid her hand across the table and stopped just before his journal. “Who said anything about feeling sorry for you?”

“Oh I’m sorry; I forgot you’re the mean uncaring new girl. You wouldn’t feel sorry for anyone that walked through these doors.” He pulled his journal closer, watching her retreat. “And hands off my journal, you have your own.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing good in it anyways. I just wanted to see if you would guard it with your life.” Elle stood up as the light flashed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Hart grinned shoving his chair and worked his way around the table keeping his eye on Elle.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said looking down at her as they walked down the hallway. “Every time you answer one of my questions I’ll answer one of yours. Until then, it’s all off limits.”

She stopped at her room watching him strut past her doorway. “Wow, it’s that easy to keep you from talking to me?”

He winked at her taking off to his own room.

Elle sat on her bed staring at her journal. She didn’t know what to write, where to begin, or even how to say what she
felt. Dr. Jon recommended she try voicing her feelings on paper. He said it would give her a positive release.

She tapped her pencil against the pages letting out a sigh.

“It gets easier,” Sadie said. She took a seat on her bed eyeing Elle. It had been some time since she tried to converse with her. After her nightmare it was better to steer clear.

“Oh I don’t know,” she said keeping her eyes glued to her paper. “Seems nearly impossible.”

Sadie took a seat a smile on her face. “I had a hard time at first too I swear.” She pushed her red hair behind her ear.

“So what changed?” Elle asked looking up at Sadie for the first time. She had never cared to talk to her before. But as days ticked by and her misery
lingered she was willing to try anything. If she had it her way she would have drowned it all with a bottle of vodka, but she had no way to do that anymore.

“I guess after a while you realize no matter how much you fight you’re not going to get your way here.” Sadie shot a look at the door. “And then you just give in.”

“That’s for sure,” she said, scrawling a smiley face on the paper. She frowned scratching the smile into a frown. Who was she kidding; happiness had left her months ago.

Sadie took a deep breath. “I’ve been here once before. Everyone thought I was fine when I came home. But I wasn’t and right back I went.” She studied her nails. “It’s hard, it really is. Everyone thinks we all are screwed up, but some people here have it worse than others.”

“That goes for just about anything in life,” said Elle. “Well, aren’t you going to tell me about you?”

“What’s there to say? You’ve heard most of my issues during group,” Sadie said. “I’ve been having a hard time over the last few years.”

Elle plucked a strand from her comforter watching it fall lazily to the floor.

“Sometimes I sit and wonder how many of us will die,” Sadie said. She drew her legs to her chest and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Like Hart. Or Cadence.”

Elle tilted her head. “What do you mean like Hart?” She knew almost zero about Hart. He stayed close to the vest in the same manner that she did. “He seems to have his shit together more than anybody else here.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Sadie said. “Just like you my dear.”

Elle made a face. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re a lot tougher than I pegged you for.” She studied Elle as she moved around her bed throwing the journal in her drawer, quickly she slammed it shut.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Are you upset?”

Elle tugged the covers down and crawled beneath them. “Of course not. That’s part of being here isn’t it? I’m not allowed to feel anything but better right?” She snapped off her light and her head hit the pillow.

“I think you’re mad,” Sadie said softly. The darkness kept Elle’s expression hidden.

Had he really just asked her that?

“I don’t remember a lot about that night. I remember enough though,” Elle said staring down at her arms. “I didn’t think we would talk about it so soon.”

Dr. Jon sat forward. “Part of healing is dealing with the problem head on, Elle. If we keep avoiding the issue you’re never going to move forward.”

“What’s the point in moving forward? Everyone hates me.” She literally felt ready to crawl out of her skin just talking about it.

“Everyone does not hate you. People are hurt, yes, but hating you isn’t on anyone’s agenda. People are grieving for Stephy and they are dealing with the loss of you as well.” Dr. Jon studied Elle, she was paler, she clutched at her stomach.

“I’m not feeling well.”

“A few more minutes than your free to go,” Dr. Jon assured her. “Tell me about Stephy.”

She shut her eyes. “She was my best friend. Always laughing, always smiling. One of the most caring people I ever met.”

“What about that night. The night of the accident. How was Stephy?” Dr. Jon pulled at his tie. “You weren’t the only one drinking. Stephy was as well am I right?”

Elle nodded. “Stephy drink too much, so she wanted to leave the party. And so did I.”

“Why was that?”

“A bunch of people crashed the party and it was getting out of control. We didn’t want to be there anymore. It was getting too wild,” Elle said. They had pushed past at least thirty guys to get out the door of their friend Charlotte’s house. People she never seen before.

“And you said you had hit your head in the bathroom?” Dr. Jon asked.

“I think I tripped. But Stephy was the worst. She was throwing up right before we left,” Elle said.

“Did you believe you were okay to drive?” Dr. Jon jotted something down on the paper.

“It wasn’t the first time I drove drunk. I always made it home. I didn’t think that night would be any different,” Elle said, shifting in her seat.

“Had you drink more than usual?” Dr. Jon pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Any drug use that night?”

“I don’t do drugs. And no I don’t think I drink any more than the usual. I don’t know.” She stared at her hands, going quiet.

Dr. Jon closed his tablet and returned his pen to his shirt pocket. “I want you to try to write in your journal before our next meeting. It could be about that night or about anything that you want.”

Elle headed down the hall going back to her room. She passed by Hart’s room like every other time, only this time she found herself looking for him.

“You look like you’re in a better mood,” Hart said taking a seat at the picnic table on the patio.

Elle closed her journal looking around at all the other patients. And all the empty chairs and places he could have sat. “Because I’m writing in a journal?”

“No, you just look like you feel better,” Hart said.

She ran a hand down her shiny hair that usually was dull and lifeless. “Maybe I’ve just realized being stubborn gets me nowhere.”

“Well good,” Hart said. He dropped back on the bench using his hands for comfort as he stared up at the blue sky.

Elle went back to writing. “I think it is.”

“Did you think about my offer?”

“What offer? Oh you mean the one where you want to get to know me,” she smirked.

Hart sat up, an eyebrow raised. “Someone is cocky.”

“Well, what else would you call it?” She tapped her pencil on the picnic table.

“Curiosity. I’d call it being a wonderful human being, or if you wanted the honest answer I’d say you’re the most interesting person in here and I hate to be bored.”

“I see,” Elle said. “You mean all these meetings and art projects don’t keep you busy?”

“No, just the opposite. They make me want to go out and do very bad things. Things that brought me in here in the first place,” Hart admitted running a hand through his hair.

“Well that doesn’t give me much hope,” Elle said rolling her eyes at Hart’s smirk.

He had been there so many times before while she hadn’t. She wondered if he knew something that she didn’t. Or maybe that was his problem, maybe he knew nothing.

Maybe she was going to remain messed up for the rest of her life. A miserable soul destined to walk the earth wishing for the end so she could quit feeling so god awful.

She had been there for weeks now and she didn’t feel any different. Her brain had been kicked back into thinking about every horrible thing she had done—the ones she could remember at least. And now she was fighting misery all day long, trying to keep from feeling awful. And it was hard, she obsessed about every detail, trying to remember it all so she could maybe find a sliver of hope. Maybe she would remember something that would tell her that she wasn’t as bad as she thought she was. But she knew it would never matter because she was the cause of it all. She killed Stephy. And no matter what it all would just feel like hell, she was given a second chance while her friend was gone forever. She wished they had put her in prison, because at least than she could feel at least she paid in some way for what she had done.

And that was how she spent her entire stint in rehab, shifting between feelings of guilt and feeling of sanity. She tried to feel better and forgive herself. She tried to interact she tried every god damn thing they told her to try. She did it all searching for that ray of hope.

All the way until her last day of rehab, she just tried, until she was pushed back out into the real world to put all the pieces back together

.