7. Veronica
I used to hate reading. Actually, I would use the word loathed.Whenever the teachers assigned a reading in school, I’d get bored with the story and start tearing out the pages.
Sketches would block the words, and then I’d tack them to my bedroom wall.
When it was time to return the books to the teacher, they would only receive the front and back cover with a few pages still intact if they were lucky.
My parents always grew angry with me because they would have to replace the book.
They were so upset that they had to spend their hard-earned money on a bound stack of papers to make the school happy again.
It’s not like they were going broke from my choices. My parents both had well-paying jobs. My mother is a doctor, while my father does whatever he does.
Does anyone know what their dads do for a living? For the life of me, I could never remember when anyone asked. Does he work with computers? No, maybe he is a scientist. Hell, if I know.
The only thing I know is that he makes a shit ton of money. How else could they send my sister to private schools and an Ivy League college?
My lovely sister went to medical school, following in my mother’s footsteps. Massive eye roll.
Stephanie was the golden child. The apple of my parents’ eyes. Blah, blah, blah.
She did everything right.
Stephanie studied hard and got good grades—well enough to get her into that Ivy League school. Me? I barely graduated high school, gave it the old college try, and then realized it wasn’t for me.
I dropped out, making my parents disappointed with my decision, and they never missed a moment to tell me just how disappointed they were. I still wound up getting a job without a college degree.
Jobs. Plural.
The first few didn’t work out. I’d work for a day or a week before someone pissed me off on an extreme level. I wasn’t kind like every other person out there. I didn’t give the employer my two weeks.
I walked out and never looked back.If they were to fire me, they wouldn’t give me a two-week notice, so why should I give them one?
Eventually, I worked at a fancy restaurant where it was challenging not to strangle the guests, but I forced myself to deal with them because the money was that good.
All the customers were fucking prissy and entitled. Reminded me of my family. I want to take each of their entitlement and shove it up their asses. It still blows my mind that the fancy restaurant was my longest job.
Reeling in my anger that I wanted to explode at the guest was difficult, to say the least. I managed, though, and made it two months before the lid finally popped off and was fired.
Did I mean for the plate to slip out of my hand and hit the disgusting man who groped me and then got angry with me because I called him out? I sure did.
And I don’t regret my decision.
I’m getting off track, though. Reading, as I was saying, I used to hate it until I got locked up here. It took a few tries, but then I didn’t seem to mind.
Reading became an escape for me—a way out of the thoughts whirling around in my head. It took me out of this obscene reality I’m forced to live in.
When I read, I get transported into the book, almost as if I were watching a movie in my head. It makes me wonder if I had given it a chance in school, would I be where I am today?
It’s stupid, but maybe if I had shown more interest in reading back then, I would have done better in school. I would have gotten an excellent job to please my parents and made something of myself—something other than the person I am today.
I”m not saying I hate who I am because I don’t. I’m genuinely okay with the person I’ve become. Everyone else doesn’t like who I am. That’s why they try to fix me.
My parents still hope that the right person will come along and return me to who I was meant to be. Jokes on them. No one in this world could fix me because I’m broken to the point of no return.
It’d take a fucking miracle and then some to get me back on the right track. Let them hope and pray all they want. That miracle will never happen.
Dr. Madden believes he can turn me around. Hidden behind the nervousness I witnessed today, hope flares in his eyes. It’s the same fucking look everyone other doctor has given me.
Except Dr. Davis, but we aren’t going to talk about her. I’m still pissed she left me, so, therefore, right now, she is dead to me.
Leo might think there is a way to bring me out of the darkness, and for a little while, I’ll let him believe that. I’ll pretend to get better for him.
It’s all a part of the plan.
I’ve been mulling around the steps in my head. What actions must I take for him to be on my side?
I’m sitting in the common room—in the chair I have deemed mine—with my journal sitting unopened. A fresh, unbroken pen is grasped between my fingers, and as soon as I am about to flip the cover, a person sits on the couch.
My personal space is essential to me. Even though whoever is on the couch is a couple of feet away from me, they are still too close.
Slowly, my eyes slide up and then shift to the person occupying the space.
Eliza Green.
“Hi, Ronnie!” Her smile makes me feel sick. Not because her teeth are awful because they are perfect, but because she is too damn happy all the time. Eliza has only been here for a few months, and the poor girl seems to gravitate towards me.
No words leave my mouth as I stare at the girl. Her skin looks as if it were made from rich chocolate. It is smooth to the point you’d think she was wearing makeup or had been photoshopped in real life.
Not a blemish on her dark skin. Not even a trace of freckles like I’m blessed with.
Eliza is extremely beautiful.
A beauty that you’d see and think how unfair it is that she gets to walk around looking the way she does while you look the way you do. Women, in general, are beautiful creatures, but Eliza? A Greek Goddess sculpted her.
Her eyes are interesting. One is dark brown, while the other is light green. Her curls aren’t as maintained as mine, and the ends sit right at the tops of her shoulders.
I wonder if she will ever ask for products to maintain all of her hair. They’d most likely give them to her right away. All she’d have to do is flash them her bright smile.
However, it took me months to convince Dr. Bennett to let me have any products for my curls.
It’s one thing to be trapped behind these walls, but it is another to have to walk around looking like you just went through electroshock therapy. I swear, with how insane my hair looked, I could have been recast as Hagrid.
“What are you writing about?” Eliza questions, not caring that I still have yet to respond to her.
“That is none of your business.” I snarl.
“Of course not. Your journal is your privacy.”
Flipping my journal open while still gazing at the woman to my left, I turn page after page until I get to an empty one. My eyes fall to the blank paper, well, the almost blank paper.
That stupid fucking dot.
The tip of my pen hits the sheet, and then I pause my movement when a quiet sigh fills the space. Groaning, I roll my neck, the cracking sounding like a symphony as it shoots upwards.
“What do you want, Eliza?”
“I’m bored and thought you would like some company.”
“When do I ever want company?” I deadpan.
She picks at her fingers. “Uh... never.”
“Exactly. Now. Go. Away.” The demand comes out harsh, but not harsh enough since she is still sitting on the couch. Exhaling a laugh, I lean forward to hold her attention. “I’m going to say it again, Eliza, and hopefully, you’ll get it through your thick skull this time. Go away before I jam this nice new pen in your pretty green eye.”
Those multi-colored eyes go wide with shock. Her head nods frantically as she pushes herself out of the couch and scurries off. A satisfied sigh leaves me, and I get more comfortable in my chair.
“Now, where was I?”