10. Ellie
Ellie
Professor Holcomb drones on and on about cognitive behavioral frameworks and I cling to my sanity by counting the ceiling tiles in sets of five.
And again.
Thirty-five. Forty. Forty-five. Fifty.
Same number as last time, and the time before that.
It won't change. My brain knows this. But the ritual demands completion, and I'm a slave to it in a way that makes the collar around my throat feel like a fucking joke.
I feel one person in particular watching me. He's not actually in the room, because obviously, a six-foot-ten masked man would draw attention in a sociology class amphitheater, but I know he's close.
One of them always is.
Earlier, Jinx showed up to walk me to my morning lecture with a coffee he already bought, or maybe he'd just been given the coffee because he's Jinx and that's how the world works when you have his charisma.
He fell into step beside me, chatting my ear off while we walked like this was our normal routine.
And in some weird alternate universe, maybe it is.
A universe where we went to school together instead of me being stuck in this place that's just a glorified fishbowl for Todd to keep me in.
Cyrus keeps finding excuses to text me, like he needs one. He texted once to ask about my schedule, as if he doesn't already know my day down to the minute, and another time to confirm I ate.
But Cyrus can't just say hi, that would be too easy.
As for Kade, he hasn't spoken to me directly since the parking lot, but I've caught him twice now in places he has no reason to be.
Lurking in the hallway outside my bedroom at 4 a.m. when I got up to pee.
And then in the kitchen at dawn, sitting in the dark with his coffee and his lighter, already dressed and watching the hall like he knew exactly when I'd walk in.
He didn't say a word to me as I poured my milk and cereal, but he didn't immediately get up from the table when I sat down, so… I guess that's a kind of progress?
He's being super fucking weird.
Something changed with all of them. I don't know what triggered it, but the surveillance has definitely kicked up a few notches. The worst part is I can't tell if it's protectiveness or suspicion.
I'm leaning toward suspicion. And it's stressing me out.
My pen taps against my notebook in patterns of five.
The girl next to me glances over with an annoyed inhale through her nose, so I force myself to stop and start counting tiles again.
Five… ten… fifteen… twenty…
Holcomb clicks to a new slide. This one's about maladaptive coping mechanisms, which is either ironic or the universe has developed a sense of humor tailored to fuck with me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but checking it in class means acknowledging the leash, and right now I need to pretend I'm a normal twenty-one-year-old whose biggest problem is a midterm she hasn't studied for.
The real problem is the pills.
I had five in the tissue paper tucked into my pink cashmere sweater. I managed to snag these ones from a semi-reliable source between classes. I go to him sometimes when the pharmacies are being a pain in the ass. I counted them yesterday morning, because I count everything, and they were there.
Now they're not.
I practically tore the sweater apart looking for them. Checked every fold, dug into the corners of the pockets, shook it out over the bed and watched nothing fall out. I was this close to unraveling the whole damn thing when I finally accepted they were just gone.
Which means either I miscounted, which is impossible, or I moved them somewhere I can't remember, which is terrifying in a different way.
Or…
Someone found them.
Yeah, no. Not going to let myself go there. I'll panic right here in class.
I have one bottle left after I managed to refill my last prescription. It's hidden in the lining of my winter coat in the back of the closet, and I've been cutting the pills in half to stretch them. At my current dosage, I have some time if I'm disciplined.
Less if I have another dinner at Todd's.
And even less if Kade keeps being so fucking weird.
Holcomb releases us a few minutes early because even she seems tired of her own lecture. I'm out of my seat before the words "see you next time" finish leaving her mouth.
The hallway absorbs me into a current of students heading in fifteen different directions.
I let myself get pulled toward the east wing, away from the main entrance where I know Tank will be waiting by the oak tree he thinks I haven't noticed him standing behind.
Hard to hide behind a tree when you're the size of a tree yourself.
The first-floor women's bathroom in the arts building has a window that opens onto the service alley between buildings. I learned this fun fact during freshman year.
The window sticks as I yank it up and wedge my backpack through first. My hips barely fit and Todd's comments about my weight flash through my mind before I shove it back into the box where I keep the rest of his bullshit.
I drop down into the alley below and my ankle howls from the impact. I grit my teeth and move before the pain sets in, cutting through the path behind the dining hall loading dock and the back gate that leads to a small strip of businesses just off campus.
The pharmacy is four blocks off campus. I'm not stupid enough to fill a controlled substance prescription anywhere connected to the university.
This place has existed since long before Saylor was a glimmer in some academic's eye, sandwiched between a dry cleaner and a deli.
The pharmacist never asks too many questions.
The bell above the door chimes when I walk in. The pharmacist is a woman in her fifties with reading glasses on a beaded chain who barely looks up from playing match games on her phone when I approach.
"Hi." My voice comes out less winded than I'd feared. "Um, I need to refill a prescription. Eleanor Riggs. R-I-G-G-S."
She types slowly and it feels like every keystroke takes a fucking year.
"Alprazolam, two milligrams?"
"Yep."
More typing. The computer makes a sound that makes me cringe.
"Hmm." She pushes her glasses up. "Insurance denied the refill."
"What?" I croak. "Wait… I don't care about insurance." The words come out too fast so I slow down and put on the mask I wear at Todd's parties. "I'll pay out of pocket."
"I understand, but without a current prescription, I can't fill it. You'd need a new script from your doctor."
"Can't you just… it's the same prescription I've had for years. Same medication, same dosage. Nothing's changed."
"I'm sorry, hon. It's a Schedule IV controlled substance. I need a current prescription on file." She gives me a sympathetic smile that makes me want to scream. "If you call your doctor's office, they might be able to send one over electronically. Might even be able to get it the same-day."
"Right." I nod even though I'm starting to unravel like how I almost unraveled my fucking sweater. "Right, okay. Thank you."
I make it outside before the panic hits.
The sidewalk tilts under my feet and I grab the parking meter next to me. My ribs aren't letting enough oxygen into my lungs again.
This isn't good. I could call for a refill, but she'd want to see me, and then I'll have to explain to the guys why I'm going when they're already up my ass.
I pull out my phone and scroll to a contact saved under the name "Campus Bookstore."
He's a guy Maren knows through a friend of a friend, a point of contact in a long chain of plausible deniability. He sells Adderall to half the pre-med students at Saylor and has a side hustle in benzos that he sources from somewhere I've never asked about.
Asking questions is how you stop getting pills.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard for a few seconds before I let myself type.
ELLIE
Hey. Can you meet today?
He pops up right away, probably because he knows I'm always good for it.
CAMPUS BOOKSTORE
can't today. would tomorrow work? same spot
Fuck. Well, it's better than nothing, especially when nothing means withdrawal sets in as soon as my current stash runs out.
ELLIE
Tomorrow's fine. What time?
CAMPUS BOOKSTORE
2pm
ELLIE
I'll be there.
I shove the phone back into my pocket and press my palms against my eyes until I see spots.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow is fine.
I'll be fine.
A shadow falls across me and I drop my hands.
Tank is standing on the sidewalk about eight feet away, and the expression in his dark eyes above the black mask is pure worry. He doesn't approach me, though. He just tilts his head.
Something wrong? he signs. Why aren't you in class?
The lie forms on my tongue with a speed that's frankly alarming.
"Nothing's wrong." I push off the parking meter and smile at him. "Class let out early, and it's a nice day. I wanted to walk." I gesture at the strip of storefronts and the cloudless sky. "Also, I needed to buy tampons. Want to join me?"
Tampons are usually a get out of jail free card to make men stop asking questions.
Tank doesn't seem to buy it.
He searches my face and for a moment, I'm sure he's going to call me on it. But then his shoulders relax just slightly. He nods, falling into step beside me as I start walking in no particular direction.
The guilt squeezing my stomach is nauseating.
I hate lying to the one person who's never lied to me, but I tell myself it's for his own good. No reason to make him worry, and he would worry, because he's Tank.
I slip my hand into his as we walk. His scarred fingers close around mine carefully, and he blinks down at our joined hands. The warmth of his rough palm gives me the warm fuzzy feeling I usually only get after a pill dissolves under my tongue.
You don't mind being seen together like this? he signs with his free hand. Your friends might see us. Holding hands.
I stare up at him, blinking in surprise. "What? No. Why would that matter?"
He stares at me mid-sign, probably about to say something cruel about himself, but then he shrugs and shakes his head. He slides his hand into his pocket instead. But I swear his steps are a little lighter.
"Hey, Tank?"
He squeezes my hand once to let me know he's listening.
"Have you and Kade talked? Since... everything?"
He doesn't reply for a few steps. Then his free hand comes up to sign again. Some. Not much. But he'll come around.
"You think so?"
Always does. His eyes crinkle a little, so I guess he's smiling at me. He's stubborn, but not completely unreasonable.
"That's debatable," I say dryly.
He snorts.
"It just feels like you guys are watching me more. All of you." I keep my voice light, trying to sound curious instead of accusatory.
His hand tightens slightly around mine.
Oops.
"Did Kade say something? Tell you to keep a closer eye on me?" I tease, bumping his leg with my hip.
Tank shakes his head. No. Kade hasn't said anything about you.
I study his face, at least what I see of it.
He isn't lying.
That makes one of us.