Chapter 2
resentment and other drugs
Saige
It's raining, I think. Why is it raining in my room?
I stretch my aching limbs, head spinning, and realize I'm lying on cold, wet ground. Opening my eyes, I find myself in the side yard, getting drenched by our sprinkler system.
I guess I must not have made it inside last night, but by some miracle, I made it home.
I don't really remember how that happened.
I remember going to a concert in a basement club the next town over; I remember the first set, and there's a brief memory of being in the back of the car and the sun starting to rise. But nothing in between.
I stand up too quickly and regret it, instantly doubling over and vomiting bile down the front of my cropped tee and into the grass. Once I'm finished, I remove that shirt, using it to wipe my face and mouth clean before stumbling around the side of the house.
Elias's car is in the driveway.
Great.
When I started at Aurora Cove, he made sure I never got the chance to make friends and that everyone knew what would happen to them if they spoke to me.
He wasn't lying about who he was here—everyone cowered to him.
The other outcasts wouldn't touch me; even the teachers seemed to fear getting caught being too nice to me.
Forget school dances and basketball games—a good day was one when my shit wasn't stolen or vandalized, when the popular girls didn't spill soda down the front of my shirt or dump my lunch at my feet to please King Elias.
I apologized to him—for what, I'm not exactly sure, but I did.
I pleaded with him to make it stop for over a week.
The last time, he told me he'd consider it if I got down on my knees and begged him.
He posted the video to his stories instead.
That's when I realized it was useless. The boy with the sad eyes who wanted me to hold him and run my fingers through his hair wasn't real. He was a drunk persona; one of the many facades he'd put on to get what he wanted from people, and I've seen quite a few of them since.
When I couldn't take it anymore, I started swinging on the girls he sent after me.
He told everyone I had mouth herpes, and they believed him, so I'd spit on them, too.
It didn't end the torment entirely, but it certainly slowed it down.
No one wanted to get kicked out of their clubs or team sports for fighting, but I didn't give a shit. I had nothing to lose.
It's pretty hard to fuck with someone who has nothing to lose, someone who stopped caring a long time ago.
Then, he graduated and moved into the dorms at West Pine University. Because of his injury, he lost his scholarship offer to play in Maine; he stopped going to physical therapy and never played hockey again.
My senior year was a little better. My peers were still terrified Elias would catch them befriending me, but without him there to pat them on the head, the physical and emotional torment decreased significantly.
I even made a couple of friends in a neighboring town—the kind of people who had nothing to lose like me, so they weren't too worried about Elias and his followers.
And then I met a guy. Don't get me wrong, I've met guys in the past two years—none from ACHS, of course.
But for some reason, I let this one convince me he liked me for more than just hooking up.
He asked me to go to grad with him, and I bought a dress—a black strapless mini dress with a bubble skirt.
Somehow, Elias found out about him and paid one of his friends to sleep with him two days before the dance and then tell me about it.
I let it hurt me, but only a little bit. I leave that dress hanging on the back of my closet door with the tags still on, just in case I ever need the reminder.
He doesn't come home much—not even for the holidays. He showed up for his grandmother's funeral, which my mother and I were not invited to attend, and then again back in April to pick up his black Porsche Cayman when he got his license back.
Then, when he moved out of the dorms and into a townhouse on campus, purchased by his rich ass friend Dax's dad, he came back in the middle of the night and took my fucking dog.
That pissed me off.
I smile a little as I round the corner toward the front porch. Like I said, Elias doesn't bother me anymore, but I know nothing pisses him off quite like my presence.
Wearing only jeans, my white Vans, and a black push-up bra, I step inside and then through the kitchen to the laundry room, where I discard my wet, vomit-stained shirt.
I grab the orange juice from the fridge, drinking directly from the carton before replacing it.
When I turn around, I find myself face-to-face with my mom, brow furrowed with concern, lips pressed in a tight, thin line.
"Where were you?" she asks.
I shrug. "The backyard, mostly."
"Where's your shirt?"
"In the laundry room."
"It's move-in day, Saige."
"So?"
"So…we're leaving in two hours. You look horrible."
"I am horrible." As I push past her, she grabs me by my arm, examining the lyrics etched inside my left biceps in black ink, the surrounding area bruised.
I met a guy at a show a few months ago who's apprenticing, and I've been letting him practice on me. The angel wings under my collarbones were the first. It hurt like a bitch, but it didn't bruise like this one. I think he might have pushed too hard this time.
"Did you get another tattoo?"
"Looks like it."
"What happened to you?" she asks. "You were such a good girl, Saige."
I swallow hard and then shrug, pulling my arm back. "You know what happened, Mom."
She sighs, leaving the room and heading toward the staircase. "Take a shower, okay? Be ready in an hour."
She hasn't been my best friend for a long time. I know she misses me, and sometimes, when I see her like this and hear her voice like that, I feel bad about it. But I can't stop blaming her for the way the past couple of years have been, even though sometimes I want to.
Alex lied about the state of his marriage when their relationship started. He told her they were living separately, and it was months before she found out that it wasn't true. By then, she was deeply in love with him, and he promised he'd pack his things that night if she'd stay.
Once, she tried to tell me about how Elias's mother's depression was violent—that he couldn't take the physical and mental abuse anymore, but he'd been too afraid to leave her with Elias. I didn't want to hear it.
They seem like a happy couple, as much as I hate to admit it. He doesn't yell like my dad did, and she doesn't cry in her bedroom. They drive to work together every day and hold hands in the car.
It makes me sick.
At seventeen, I had everything figured out. I knew what I wanted and how my life would turn out. At nineteen, I don't really want anything, and I don't know shit, but I do know this—everyone will disappoint you, eventually. And someday, they'll disappoint each other, too.
In desperate need of carbs to soak up some of this alcohol, I grab a bagel from the bag on the counter, dropping it into the toaster just as Arcadia bounds down the staircase and into the kitchen.
"Who's a good girl?" I whisper, leaning down and scratching her behind her ears while she licks my face. "Whose puppy are you really? You know whose puppy you are."
"Arcadia, no." Elias struts into the kitchen with his face buried in his phone. "I've warned you about approaching other dogs, especially the dirty ones. You never know what kind of diseases they may be carrying. A shower won't help, by the way."
"No one thinks you're funny, by the way. And if they ever do laugh at you, it's because they feel bad for you."
"No one thinks you're clean."
"Hey, guys, get it?" I say, mocking his deep voice. "It's an STI joke. It's so fresh. By the way, I have seventeen of them myself. Hilarious, right, bro?"
My bagel pops up, and I stand, grabbing it from the toaster. Elias's eyes run down my body—over my bare skin, my bra and then down my waist, his lip turning up in disgust. "Jesus. No one wants to see that. Are you trying to fucking blind me?"
"I think that's what they'd call a happy accident," I tell him, taking a bite of my bagel. "Go fuck yourself, Elias."
"Someone let you get mouthy in my absence," he says to my back as I walk away. "Be fucking careful, Saige. If I have to put you back in your place, you're not going to like it."
I scoff. "Please. You can't do shit to me anymore, and you know it. Don't think I don't know how much it bothers you, because I do. You know what stench follows you? Peaked in high school. Good luck washing that off."
"How's Aiden, Saige?" Elias asks as I ascend the staircase.
"Who?" I ask through a mouthful of bagel.
Elias smirks, and I shrug before continuing up the stairs and down to my room. I don't know if I was convincing enough, but I'm certainly not going to take the bait and engage.
But of course I know who Aiden is—like I said, I leave the reminder on the back of my closet door.
By the time I get out of the shower, Elias's car is gone. After I dry my hair, Alex helps my mom and I load boxes and suitcases into my car, and then the two of us leave for university.
I packed light and haphazardly; to be honest, I was drunk and I don't even know what's in half of those boxes. It'll be a fun surprise when I get there.
At first, I didn't even want to go. I'd been rejected from the other schools I applied to, and my plan was to get a job and see what happened, but after months of arguing with my mom and the school counselor, I gave in and applied to West Pine.
I was wait-listed at first. That's when I realized I really did want it, even if Elias would be there, too. Luckily, my number was up last month.
After backing out of the driveway, I crank up my music and roll the windows down. My mom is quiet, but she wants to say something. We just don't do this anymore. We don't talk.