Page 95 of Voices

"I don't like peppers," my voice is raspy from not using it today.

"How about," she scrolls on her phone, "a vegetarian enchilada? Ooh, they have a fiesta dip with house made chips,” she says as she keeps scrolling. “Oh wait, they use beans in place of meat. Let’s see…”

I’m not all that hungry but she won’t leave unless I either get out of bed or eat, and right now, the thought of moving alone hurts too much. I close my eyes as she rambles off whatever food sounds good to her.

But the second I close my eyes, black ones stare back at me. I quickly reopen them as my heart beats loudly in my ears. I take a slow breath and glance over at Lily making sure she didn’t notice. She’s not talking anymore but her face is still in her phone.

Why am I like this? I just want to be normal.

“Okay!” she says, scaring the shit out of me. “Noah has placed our order. He said it’s dead so we should have deliciosa cocina Mexicana in no time!” She tucks her phone away in her purse then climbs under the covers with me.

Thankfully Shane made me put on pants last night since I was so cold. I’m also in his hoodie that’s two sizes too big but it smells like him and that does something to help me stay calm.

She’s next to me in Shane’s spot looking at me with a weird look on her face.

“What?”

“Are you taking your antidepressants?”

I roll my eyes and look up at the ceiling.

“Don’t give me that, Charlie. You know they help when you’re down. I can tell something happened and you staying in bed all day is a telltale sign that you’re on the verge of spiraling.”

She’s only seen two of my depressive episodes. The first one was me living in my bed for days and not talking but the second one was worse. I locked myself in my room and drowned my empty soul in alcohol. I don’t know how long it was but when I came to, I was in the hospital. Lily was the only one there. She said I almost killed myself and that I needed to get help.

But I’ve never wanted help.

The overwhelming sadness that digs its claws into my body so deep that I can’t breathe is just a part of me. No shrink can prescribe anything to make it go away. No one can save me from my own mind, not even me.

“You’re in your head and ignoring me. Where are they?” She sits up but I grab her arm and pull her back.

“I don’t need them. They don’t work.”

“Charlie-”

“No,” I cut her off. “They make it impossible to fall asleep and they fuck with my stomach. I always feel confused and lostwhich spikes my anxiety. And…” I stop myself before sharing the most embarrassing side effect.

“And?” she raises her brows.

Fuck it, she’ll keep pushing until I answer so I’m better off just telling her.

I bite my lip and then blow out a breath, keeping my eyes on the ceiling. “I can’t get hard when I’m on them,” I whisper.

“Well, we can’t have that with Mr. Sexy walking around,” she chuckles to herself as my face warms.

“Don’t call him that,” I grumble. “But even if you take that out, I can’t go back to not sleeping for days and then crashing for twenty-four hours. I have to be able to concentrate on my work so I can get out of here and as far away fromthemas I can.”

She nods, knowing my need to escape my father’s iron grip.

“Okay, but there has to be other options out there to help. Have you talked to Shane about it? Maybe if you talk to him about how you’re feeling, you won’t feel so alone.”

If only I knew how to talk about the voices in my head without sounding crazy enough to be shipped off to a mental hospital.

“I can ask a few of my friends who are studying medicine if they know of an alternate way to help. I know a few that are going to medical school after here for their MDs so they might have a few suggestions. It can’t hurt to ask, right?” She nudges her shoulder against mine.

I nod even though I don’t want to. Lily hasa lotof friends here so the chances of them knowing she’s asking for me is very slim but it’s still embarrassing.

“So, how’s it going with our hockey star? I saw the amount of food in your fridge so that’s a plus. He drives a really big truck. Like really big,” she stretches the word out, widening her eyes. “Tell me, Jax. How big is the gear shifter?” She holds up her hands about six inches apart. “No, it’s got to be longer than thisfor his hand to fit around it.” She spreads them further as her smile gets bigger.

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