31. Preston #2
So now, I’m standing in the rain, right across from the garage’s entrance as the staff puts out the fire.
Waiting.
For what, I don’t know.
Actually, I do know. I’m waiting for Jude to come to his senses, as he’s also losing his grip on reality after learning some disturbing truths.
And because of that, he’s pushed away the only light in his life—Violet. I feel a sort of camaraderie with her, you know. She has this sad look in her eyes that reminds me of that seven-year-old version of me. A sadness that I couldn’t shake off, no matter what I did.
She’d also be a perfect member of the Mommy Issues Club that Vi, Jude, and I should form.
Anyway, Jude’s being a dick, pushing everyone, including Violet, away, and it’s no bueno.
If both of us spiral, who’s going to keep me from accidentally killing myself?
I’m waiting for Dr. Duret to come back, for Lenin to show up.
But mostly, I’m waiting for Marcus to text me back.
I pull out my phone, staring at it as the rain blurs the screen. And nope, no new texts. All I can see is the conversation we had after I left.
Marcus
Are you okay? Just tell me you are, and I’ll leave you alone.
Yes, I have him saved as his name now, I guess.
And no, I didn’t reply to that text, because what the hell would I say when I was creeped out with myself for hurting him?
The way he was asking about me made my guilty feelings a hundred times worse.
And I might have considered free-falling to my death from the roof of my house. Happened before, only, I didn’t die, so I thought the second time would be a winner, right?
Marcus, being Marcus, texted again the next day.
Marcus
I made tacos. Are you coming tonight?
Me
No.
Why not?
Because we don’t need to meet every day.
Are you sure it’s not because you’re running away again?
Why the fuck do I need to run away from you?
You tell me, Preston. Every time I think I have you, something comes up, and you decide to shut me out. I tried to be patient, and I certainly tried not to push your limits and to wait for you to open up, but this is obviously not working.
What the fuck does “not working” mean?
It means just that. This isn’t working the way it is right now. You can’t keep running and expect me to chase you.
Are you…ending it?
Is that what you want?
You’re not the one fucking ending it, Marcus. I am! Fuck you, asshole. I give you five minutes of attention, and you believe you can have me? ME? THE Preston Armstrong?
Yes, wishful thinking on my part. I’m sorry I ever dreamed of that. Goodbye, Preston.
He blocked me.
I laugh to myself, because, you know, the idea Dr. Duret and I discussed isn’t wrong. I should go find him and slice his fucking throat open.
If I can’t have him, he should die.
Wow. I sound like a true lunatic. I mean, I know I am, but this is hitting home.
Murderous, toxic psycho alert.
Damn.
Reality is, I’d never hurt him, at least, not more than I already have.
I’m just bluffing, because if I had a knife in my hand and Marcus was in front of me, I’d turn it on myself and stab my own heart.
My chest hurts. It hurts so much, I can barely breathe.
What type of fuckery is this?
Heartbreak, I think.
I’m just so heartbroken that Marcus told me goodbye. Is he truly not going to hear me out anymore?
Not until you tell him everything. And I mean everything, the voice that’s too similar to Dr. Duret’s whispers in my head.
“You’ve completely lost your mind,” Lilith stands beside me.
She’s holding an umbrella and doesn’t even try to cover me, too busy looking me up and down. “You’ve become a dangerous loose cannon. Your grandma would love to get rid of you, and even Miley will be scared of you eventually.”
“Keep her away from me,” I whisper, tilting my head in her direction as rainwater falls in rivulets down my face. “You, too, Lilith, stay away. I’d hate to accidentally snap your neck.”
She purses her lips. “How dare you threaten me?”
“I never told you this before, but the only reason you continue to breathe is because I don’t want Miley to grow up without a mother.
It messes kids up—life without mothers, I mean.
But you know that very well. You’ve seen firsthand how it makes one of them disturbingly clingy to fake-ass strangers just because they say a few nice words and put on a show. ”
Her lips tremble as she takes a step back. “You—”
“Get the fuck out of my face!”
She trips and almost falls, but she turns and practically runs to the house as I stay there watching the fire cool down.
For what seems like forever, I continue checking my phone every other minute, hoping for what, I don’t know.
Marcus wouldn’t reply. If anything, he should be glad to have gotten rid of me.
The staff disappears, what remains of the car is loaded up and taken away, and soon enough, the area outside the garage is empty except for me and my now-dead phone.
The rain stops.
No, it doesn’t.
The reason it’s no longer soaking me is because someone is standing beside me, holding an umbrella over my head. At first, I think it’s Hayes, but Dad’s voice rings around me.
“You should get inside.”
I swallow thickly, the pain in my chest doubling and tripling, but I force a smile.
He looks so put together in his beige three-piece suit, his hair combed neatly, his face serene. Oh, how I wish I’d inherited his coldness. Life would’ve been so much easier.
“Finally decided to punish me?”
“Do you do these stunts so I’ll punish you?” He side-eyes me. “I thought it was to get my attention.”
I purse my lips, and he releases a long breath. “Well, you have it, Preston. What do you want?”
“A new doctor.”
“A new doctor?”
A droplet of rain falls from my hair to my cheek, sliding down to my mouth. “Yeah, the old one is a useless, judgmental crook. I thought you’d do better background checks before hiring my therapist.”
“Dr. Fenwick is not a crook.” He faces me, tilting the umbrella in my direction, and the rain soaks the shoulder of his jacket.
“Not him. I’m talking about her.”
“Who’s her?”
“I only have one her, Dad. The fuck?”
“No, there are a few female doctors who work with Dr. Fenwick. Did any of them make you feel judged?”
“Yup. Need her fired or, like, threatened a bit.” I grin. “Vencor style.”
“I’m going to need a name.”
“Dr. Duret.”
My dad freezes, his body going so impossibly still, it creeps me the fuck out. When he speaks, it’s firm but a touch unsteady. “When was the last time you…uh, met her?”
“Earlier tonight.”
“And you first met her…where, exactly?”
“At Dr. Fenwick’s office, then at her place, remember?”
“Her place?”
“Yeah, the one outside of town. You even send Lenin to pick me up sometimes. You growing senile so soon or something?”
“Lenin,” he repeats emotionlessly.
“Yeah, Lenin,” I snarl. “Where has he been lately, anyway? Is it true that you’re no longer punishing me because you’re planning to drop me?”
“Lenin said that?”
I bite the corner of my lip and shrug. Well, maybe this will get Lenin in trouble—not that I should care.
“Listen, Preston.” He grabs my shoulder, fingers digging in. “I’d never drop you.”
“Even if I burn your car?”
“Even if you burn a garage full of them.”
“That’s a lot of work—not worth it.”
Dad’s lips twitch in a smile and I just stare. It feels like…forever since I’ve seen him smile.
Wow. The Lawrence Armstrong can smile? Someone call the robot manufacturer so he can test him for malfunctions.
“Preston?”
“Yeah?”
“Tomorrow morning, let’s go to see Dr. Fenwick together.”
“Can’t, and I also don’t like that old man much.” Maybe I should have Dad threaten Dr. Duret to return. Pretty sure she has some family somewhere in Europe. Dad can locate them and use them against her as leverage.
“Why can’t you?” he asks.
“I’m going on a picnic. More like I’m inviting myself to one with Kane’s and Jude’s girls.
They’re so not from our world, and I’d like to get rid of Destiny if possible, but her sister or foster sister or whatever wouldn’t appreciate it, and I like her.
Not Destiny, but her sister, Vi. I think she’s making Jude a better man, but he’s too blind to see it.
She also looks so familiar; if you meet her, you’ll probably feel the same.
” I bite the corner of my lip because I’ve been kind of blabbering. “Yeah, so I’m busy.”
“When will you be done? We’ll go then.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
“Way to give your child choices, Dad. Amazing work—”
“Preston.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I want you to know…I never wanted to do this, but in hindsight, it was inevitable.”
“Do…what?”
“I’m sorry.” He tightens his grip on my shoulder one final time, then puts the umbrella in my hand and walks into the rain.
Only a few paces, though, as Hayes runs out with another umbrella.
And I’m shaking.
Dad has only ever told me “I’m sorry” once before—when he held me the day I found out Mom died.
I never wanted to do this.
A tear slides down my cheek because I know, I just know what will happen tomorrow with Dr. Fenwick.
The one thing that doctors always recommend. The one thing Dad has always been vehemently against, but now, he’s stopped caring enough to refuse anymore.
Because Dad’s abandoned me, too.
Like Mom. Like Dr. Duret.
Like Marcus.
He’s finally agreeing to have me committed.