Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
What. The. Fuck?
“She told me, Milo. On our wedding day. Why do you think she wasn’t at the reception last night? Why do you think she tried to drink herself to death? She told me everything. And I assured her she would never have to be alone with you again. And Fletcher doesn’t know. He would end you, Milo, and you know it. So here’s how this will go … when she gets here, you leave. Go to the barn, stay in our bedroom, and do whatever you have to do to stay out of her sight. We’ll get you help; no one else has to know.”
My gaze slides to her grip on my wrist, and I jerk my arm out of her grasp, grab the bags, and carry them to the other bedroom.
23
FREE
INDIE
“Were you trying to harm yourself?” the psychiatrist asks.
I stare at her. “No.”
“Have you had thoughts about harming yourself before?”
“Before?” I narrow my eyes.
“Before last night.”
“You’re implying I was trying to hurt myself last night when I just told you I wasn’t.”
“Tell me about yesterday and the events that led you to turn to alcohol.”
“For someone with what I assume is a degree that took many years to acquire, you are a terrible listener and incredibly shortsighted. Are we done here?” I slide off the edge of the hospital bed and shove my feet into the sneakers that aren’t mine but seem to be here for me. They’re brand new. Fletcher must have sent someone to get them for me.
“Indiana, I recommend you see me once a week. We can meet at my office from now on.”
“See you for what?” I crane my neck, looking for Fletcher, Pauline, or better yet, Faye or Grandma Hill.
“The depression will hit again, Indiana. And your outcome might not be so lucky. I should admit you, but I know your family, and I’m comfortable discharging you into their care with the condition that you come to see me every week.”
When I don’t see anyone I know, I return to the gray-haired woman sitting in the chair with her legs crossed and a notepad on her lap. “It was a wedding. I celebrated by drinking too much. Today, I have a killer headache and feel like shit, which is the definition of a hangover. Did I drink too much?” I shrug. “Probably. Doesn’t mean I was trying to end my life. It just means I lost track of how much I’d had to drink. Lesson learned. No need to follow up.”
“But you weren’t at the wedding reception. You were by yourself at home. Excessively drinking alone. And you’re eighteen. I’m also going to recommend you attend AA meetings.”
“Super. Maybe Fletcher can attend them with me. He drinks himself into a stupor most nights. He drinks until he has no control over backhanding me for asking simple questions.”
She frowns.
“Sorry. Does knowing that make you uncomfortable? You know … since you’re a ‘family friend.’ Or does Fletcher pay you to harass me and ignore his years of indiscretions?”
The good doctor continues to study me, tongue idle, hands fiddling with the pen and pad of paper.
I laugh. “It sucks, doesn’t it? Being owned by such a rich man. You can’t be yourself. You can’t make your own decisions. Like right now, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you know you should report what I’ve told you. I’m eighteen, but was he abusing me before I turned eighteen? Can you safely recommend releasing me into his care? Could you lose your license if anything happened to me, and you knew the risk? We know the answer is no because that would require a board to hear your case and decide to revoke your license, but Fletcher would pay off the board before he’d lose one of his pawns.”
“Are you ready to go home?”
I turn toward the devil himself.
“Where’s Faye or Grandma Hill?”
He nods toward the psychiatrist, and she leaves the room.
Wow. Should one man hold so much power?
Will this be Milo someday after Pauline and Fletcher die?
“Let’s go.” He turns his cold shoulder and expects me to follow.
I do, this time. But when I get home, I’m leaving and never coming back.
When we reach his truck, Pauline eyes me from the front seat. It’s pretty Cruella de Vil of her. “Are you going to live?” she asks when I climb in the back.
“Sadly for you, yes.”
“Indiana, that’s not fair. No one in the family has ever wished anything bad upon you. But your timing yesterday wasn’t the best. I’m glad you chose to act out at home alone instead of at Jolene’s wedding, but still … it’s not what we wanted to come home to last night.”
Fletcher pulls onto the main road, and I stare out the window, trying to keep from laughing. It’s not funny. It’s sad. She’s happy I chose to drink, pass out, and get alcohol poisoning alone. I could have died alone. No wonder Jolene is such a piece of work.