Chapter 22
22
I jerk awake, quivering, covered in sweat. The duvet is wet and cold. My mouth is dry and full of phlegm. Tears dribble down my cheeks and land on my damp chest.
Chloe flashes before my eyes again. I flinch into my headboard like she’s here, ready to tie me down. But there’s just darkness, a sliver of orange light escaping through the blinds.
It’s 5:41 a.m. I fell asleep. It was all a nightmare. Pure fiction.
It’s early but I can’t think of going back to sleep. I get out of bed, shower with freezing-cold water. I pat in my skincare, brush my teeth. I avoid looking in the mirror, scared I’ll see Chloe’s face in the reflection. “Lacrimosa” hums in my head. I can’t stand it. I tell the Alexa in the living room to play happy music. Pharrell booms through the speakers. That shitty song from Minions .
I make myself a coffee. Three espresso shots, no creamer. I never want to sleep again.
Then I remember the Ambien. I google for side effects: nightmares, night terrors, hallucinations, among many other dreadful symptoms. Stomping to my bedroom, I flush the rest of the pills down the toilet. I’d rather be an insomniac than ever experience that again.
I sit down with my coffee and stare at the stark gray New York skyline. The sun stretches its golden rays through the foggy clouds, ripening the sky to a burnt yellow. I’m unable to relax, Chloe clawing through my mind in horrific fragments.
I need to get her out of my head. But how?
I am reminded of Sophia. She said she sent me some positive affirmations. Normally, I’d find affirmations to be bullshit woo-woo, but I’m at my wits’ end. I open her messages and read the quotes:
I am thankful for what I still have.
I am patient with myself and my sorrow.
I will take care of myself as I heal.
I am thankful to be safe and healthy.
I close my eyes and repeat the positive thoughts in my head, throwing in one of my own.
I am thankful for what I still have.
I am patient with myself and my sorrow.
I will take care of myself as I heal.
I am thankful to be safe and healthy.
I am not being haunted.
I repeat them a hundred times until I start to believe them. Until I feel like I’m on solid ground.
I open my eyes.
A bird flaps by my window to say hello. I take a cool breath and blow out warm air. My mug emanates heat into my palms. I sip coffee until I feel at peace. Until the memory of Chloe fades into the recesses of my mind.
I am safe.
I am good.
Everything is okay.
Huh. Maybe positive affirmations aren’t all bullshit.
When I get up to put my cup away, I see my phone on the floor and avoid it. I’m not ready to deal with my aunt.
Thankfully, I have a perfect distraction: SoulCycle. For the first time in my life, I am excited about exercise—anything to take my mind off last night. I change into a teal sports bra and legging set from GymFish, take a picture in front of the mirror (I suck in for dear life), and tag the brand on my stories with my discount code. Within minutes, email notifications roll in about people using my affiliate link. Three dollars, four dollars, sixteen dollars in commissions. After reading through a few replies complimenting my body for a boost of serotonin, I take some preworkout powder I found in the pantry that turns water into liquid Skittles and makes my skin itch in a good way. I debate on riding the train or walking like a true New Yorker, but go for an Uber instead. The whole six-minute ride, I’m blasting music through my headphones, drowning out my thoughts. I feel like Kendall Roy at the start of Succession. On top of the world.