Page 45 of Distortion
‘Up and at ’em, Daisy!’ calls a voice that’s entirely too peppy.
It takes me a moment to place it. No one at The Heath sounds like that.
You’re not at The Heath, my sluggish mind supplies.You haven’t been for two weeks.
I’m at Richmond. I squint out at Shade from the edge of the covers, wondering why he’s in my room.
‘What time is it?’ I force out.
‘Six.’
‘What day?’
‘Sunday.’
I close my eyes andswallow hard.
‘I think I’m ill,’ I say with another groan, burrowing further into the covers.
Myarsehole of a stepbrother laughs and the sound feels like it’s splitting my ears.
‘You’re fine. There’s some pills on the table next to you. They’ll have you feeling better in no time. Come on. I’m taking you to the house.’
‘What house?’ I mutter.
‘Thehouse,’ he replies.
I stiffen. Why would he be taking me there unless it’s because John wants to see me? And, if he wants to see me, it’s because he’s heard I’m not doing well in my classes and I’m being shipped back over to The Heath.
The panic takes me by surprise and he must hear the shuddering breaths I try to contain because I hear him step closer.
‘My father isn’t there,’ he says quietly, correctly guessing the cause.
My stomach clenches painfully all of a sudden, and I jump out of the bed. I run from the room and down the hall, just getting the door closed before I vomit into the toilet bowl.
When it’s done, I feel a little better and, with shaky hands, I turn on the shower. I take off the pretty black dress from last night and throw it in the corner. The night is hazy. I remember being stopped at the party and drinking juice, but after that, nothing but fragments.
I make the shower hot and stay in it longer than two minutes for the first time in a decade. I think I make it to five before I start feeling antsy. I wonder if The Heath’s rules will always stay with me.
I hope not. But it’s only been a few days. It’ll take time.
When I get out, I find two folded white towels on the edge of the sink and I frown as I glance at the unlocked door.I didn’t even hear anyone come in, and, not liking that at all, I resolve to make sure I always lock it in future. But I use the towels because I forgot mine in my rush not to throw up all over the floor.
When I step back into my room, Shade is sitting on my bed.
‘Time to go,’ he says impatiently, not looking at me.
‘I told you,’ I say. ‘I’m not well.’
He rolls his eyes toward me and he freezes, his eyes linger on my towel-clad body.
He clears his throat and stands up. ‘That’s just the alcohol from last night.’
I shake my head. ‘I didn’t have any alcohol.’
He laughs and I wince as it makes my head pound harder. ‘I have it on good authority that you were playing a drinking game. We went through this last night. You thought it was juice, remember?’
‘But, they said ...’ My eyes widen. How could I have been so stupid? Of course they lied. A mortifying and somewhat hazy snippet comes to me. I was laughing at the table, glasses in front of me. At the time, I’d thought they were laughingwithme.
