Page 142 of Ecstasy
Alex:A lot.
Alex:You okay, princess?
I’ve stared at Alex’s texts for half an hour, thinking about Mom’s words. I should’ve confided in her long before this shit show. I don’t know what’s going on with Eli and Alex because I didn’t have the nerve to ask him, but I guess that’s another thing we’ll have to clear up when he gets back.
Me:I’m good. Miss you too.
I exhale deeply, about to toss my phone back in the drawer of my nightstand when another text comes in.
My stomach drops, and I sit up in bed, flinging my covers off.
It’s from Eli.
Him:Be there in ten.
That was eight minutes ago.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
For a second, I think about him fucking me so hard at the beach house, how he wouldn’t stop. How he likedreallyhurting me.
I think about it, and cold fear washes over me. But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not afraid. I’m going to deal with his ass once and for fucking all, and then I’ll be done with him. I’ll be done.
I sigh, looking down at what I’m wearing. I’m in short black shorts, a loose pink tank that barely covers my damn tits and considering I don’t have a lot of those to begin with, that’s saying something.
I open my closet door to grab a hoodie when I hear knocking at the door.
My phone starts vibrating in my hand. Eli is calling.
Shit, shit,shit.
I run a trembling hand through my wavy hair, taking a deep breath as my heart pounds a nervous rhythm in my chest.
It’ll be okay.
I need to end this anyway.
It’s not like he’s going to fucking kill me or something. Eli might be crazy but he’s notactuallya psychopath, I tell myself like I might believe it.
My phone starts buzzing again, I toss it on the bed, and slam my closet door closed. Fuck the hoodie.
“I’m coming!” I call out as he starts beating on the door again. I glance out the open blinds in the living room. It’s pitch-black outside. The clock on the stove says it’s eleven. And beside it, on the counter, are all of the liquor bottles I lined up earlier. Half a dozen.
I didn’t take a single fucking sip. I was planning on throwing them out in the morning.
Instead of alcohol, I finished another carton of orange juice.
I’m different.
I’m stronger.
I can do this.
I get to the door just as Eli starts hammering away at it again. I bet he thinks I’m high.
Surprise, surprise.This might be one of our first sober conversations.
