Our Little Deadly Secret

Back to Square One

Here I am. One week later. Sitting in my room. All alone. Skipping school and claiming I'm sick. Refusing to hang with my friends. Declining calls from Maac. Not eating. Not showering.

I'm just a plain empty shell of depression.

The only thing I will do, however, to keep my mind at bay, is all he homework Kassidy bring me from my classes. I just sit there and do the homework. Read my textbooks. Look online for more info on the topic at hand. But I whip through it quickly. And then I'm back to being my empty self all over again.

My mother was home since someone had to be at the house as workers came in and out to fix the damage done during the break-in. Apparently they found the person guilty of the crime: some druggie that went to the local public high school hoping to cash his luck on a few hundred bucks by taking our expensive goods. Got busted trying to pawn a couple items in the next town over. And since she was home, she was fed up by day 4 of me keeping myself shut in.

So I found myself sitting on the couch of my own home with a visiting therapist. Which I can tell you right now I don't need. Why? My mother thought I was shaken up from the while being broken into. But she had no clue about the whole story.

"So, Selena," this therapist asked, who went by the name of Dr. Honney. Elizabeth Honney. "Do you know why I am here today, seeing you?"

"May I take a stab?" I snapped with a slight frustration about the whole thing. I had found out, only earlier this morning, after telling my mother I was not going to go to school because I don't feel too well even though physically I was okay, that this lady was showing up.

"Certainly."

"My parents are nosy little creatures that don't understand that some people have actual things going on in their lives that they maybe should keep their heads out of others' business and personal lives, but instead make assumptions of what one needs, and called for help because, in their brain, their once beautiful daughter who was always so happy and full joy is once again filled with misery."

"Positivity, my dear. They only care about your self interest."

"What they should be caring about is getting this house better protected cause for some stupid reason, they can't even get proper equipment to keep this place I'm suppose to call home safe."

"They just want the best..."

"No one knows what's best for one's self  except for that person whom is in the body. Not a parent, a teacher, classmate, nor friend. Maybe when one is younger before they could really grasp the concept of knowing who you truly are was a thing, yes, but I'm in high school. I'm leaving for college in two years. If anyone knows what I need, it's me."

"That is true, but that doesn't mean that there are people out there that care for you and want for you to heal."

"Heal? From what?"

"The trauma of the past week. With the break in."

"My parents think I'm that messed up from the house being smashed about? I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but they have no clue what's going on. So let's keep it that way..."

"Please call me Dr. Honney."

"Peoples' houses get smashed in all the time across America... hell: people are breaking and entering homes all over the damn globe..!"

"Language!" Dr. Honney gently scolded while my mother shouted the same thing from the room next door.

"Language or no language, what happened here just makes this home another tick in the statistics. And that's suppose to upset me? Make me all quiet and closed off? You wish."

"So you're saying you're not having a hard time right now? With everything that's going on?"

"With what? What exactly is going on right now that I don't know about, Elizabeth?"

"It's Dr. Honney. And with all the events that have occured, it has not allowed you to have a break, causing yourself to turn to this world of depression and self loathing."

"Is one not allowed to have an off day once in a while? Is it not okay for one to feel like everything has fallen from your grasp and crumbling from reality for a while? Cause what it sounds like, you just like everyone else in this fucked up world thinks that even though shit gets tough, you have to look your best. Be the best you can fucken be. And pretend some asshole didn't rip your goddamn heart apart for the last time? I don't know what the hell my nosy ass parents told you, but I'll tell you one thing. And you better write this shit down for future reference, Elizabeth... everyone has a 'I wanna fucken end my life right now' every once in a great while cause life shoves his big dick up your ass. It happens. It called life."

"I asked you to call me Dr. Honney. And to watch your language."

"And I'm asking you to leave. Cause your services are not needed. And I think I am doing a pretty fucken good job at doing so. And I'll call you whatever the hell I want in my goddamn home. This isn't your territory. So if I wanna call you Elizabeth, then I will. If I wanna call you a bitch? Then you're a bitch. Cunt? Then so be it. But don't you ever tell me what to fucken say in my home, if my either or both parents are home. Now you my excuse your fake ass from this property. Before I call the cops."

I stood up, and walked away towards the back door in the hallway before turning around to mention one last thing.

"Oh, and if I find out that you write down that I'm fucken psychotic and I need mental help, I will sue your ass before you can even lawyer up. So if I were you, I'd do as your told."

I stormed up the stairs, around the corner, and strait into the attic I call my bedroom, locking the door behind me. My mother, most likely furious at me, tried following behind, shouting at me to watch my manners, to go back and apologise. But we both knew it would never happen.

I had always been the determined one in the family. If I had my heart set on something, then that's how it was. No questions asked. So she knew getting me to apologise after kicking someone out who thinks can help me was a no go.

I looked around my room I shared, and reached for my bag, grabbing a couple outfits of clothes, including a couple days worth of my school uniform, a couple pairs of sleepwear, some necessities, and my car keys before opening the window that led to the roof of my car. I slid down, somehow landing on the roof of my car with a light thud. I slid down the hood of my jeep onto the pavement before quietly hopping into my car, turning the engine on. I knew as soon as my mother heard the engine go off, I would have about a minute to fly away.

Throwing my car in reverse, I flew out of my driveway onto the main road and slammed it into drive, flying away towards the centre of town. It took less than 45 seconds to get going, and I knew there would be no way my mother would know where I was.

I drove off back to the place I thought was a safe zone for Noah and I, parking my car where I usually park it and from there walking to the house. But when I walked up to the door, I felt as if I couldn't be alone, so last minute I made a text and sent it.

And then I sat there and waited for him to show up.