Page 34 of Escaping Our Reality

Catie scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. Seeing she’s won this battle, she wants to drive the sword through my heart even more. “It’s all Carrie’s fault. She brought that shit into this apartment. Begged us to use with her. Told us how good we would feel. How we could all escape from reality. There’s no one to blame but her.”

I lose my mind. Literally.

I’m a wild heathen trapped in the body of a southern debutante.

I race across the room, shoving her out of the way. I blindly flail my arms, pushing mail and bags to the tile floor. A drinking glass flies off the counter and shatters. My fingers wrap around the strap of her purse, and Catie screams at me, trying to rip it from my hands.

I’m tall. Really tall. And Catie isn’t. I use that to my advantage, shoving her and bumping her with my hips. Shestumbles back and falls over the loveseat. I quickly turn her purse over, dumping all of the contents around me.

Her shout echoes in my ears, but I choose to ignore it. “What are you doing? Stop! What are you looking for?”

And then I see it.

It tumbled under the strap of her backpack. It’s hiding from me. But I see it nonetheless. The small tin breath mint container. It’s so offensive, it makes me want to throw up.

Carrie always has a tin of breath mints in her purse. Always. And she knows I’ll never open it. I hate them. I hate the aftertaste. I hate the texture.

Gum. She always carries gum for me in her purse. Even though she hates gum.

I grab the container and turn to the kitchen sink. This makes Catie scream absolute bloody murder. It could be the loudest noise I’ve ever heard. “Stop!” She’s standing now and races to the kitchen to stop me.

I flick open the lid and five little pills stare at me. Three white, one pink, and one blue. Her stash. I found her stash. She grabs me by the waist trying to pull me back, but I’ve already turned on the faucet and disposal. My hips bump across the handles of the cabinet drawers, bouncing one open. She reaches around to smack the tin from my hand, but I turn my shoulder, blocking her access. With one fluid flick of my wrist, I chop her little dreams into powered dust and wash them out to sea.

Or at least to the water treatment plant.

She immediately freezes in shock and we both watch the water swirl around and around in the stainless-steel sink. Eventually, I flip the switch to the disposal and turn off the faucet, covering the apartment in a deathly silence.

That is, until Ry’s words leave my mouth. “You shouldn’t need an escape from reality. Reality reminds you where you belong.”

She turns to me with a look of pure evil etched on her face. “Fuck you, Ella.”

I’m not prepared for her retaliation, not prepared for her shove. That’s why I fall, why I stumble. My hand knocks into the side of the open drawer, right where the unfinished wood meets the finished wood, and my knuckles scrape. I fall on my butt, but make the mistake of grabbing the open drawer when trying to clamber back to my feet. That’s when she slams my hand in the drawer.

Hard. Not as hard as it could have been. But still hard enough to bring tears to my eyes, making me bite my tongue in pain. The back of my hand bruises instantaneously.

Catie races to her bedroom, locking the door. Leaving me flopping on the kitchen floor like a dying fish.

And still no closer to finding out where my sister is than before I confronted Catie.

Chapter 15

ELLA

I lift my eyes from the TV show I’m watching on my laptop to watch Ry walk away from the firepit and patio. He heads over to the tent. I stare until his body blurs with the edges of darkness and that delicious ass disappears. It’s Harlan’s poker night so I knew Ry would be at the homestead.

My excuse tonight was that I figured he needed to use my hotspot for homework. The truth is, I wanted to see him, wanted to be near him after my run-in with Catie.

He didn’t say anything to mock me when I showed up unannounced. Just smiled and nodded.

And to my credit, hehasbeen doing homework on his laptop.

And to my detriment, I am now apparently the kind of girl who shamelessly chases after a guy.

I always thought I’d want the guy to chase after me. I guess not. When did I become so pathetic? If Carrie were here, she’d know what to do. Or, maybe she’d be high, and she’d have no clue how to help me navigate these uncharted waters.

Next, I hear him rummaging around in one of the storage containers and then I hear him fiddling with something in his truck. I have no idea why he is flittering all over the place, acting like a lost hummingbird. Taking a deep breath, I try my best to focus on the show in front of me. I’m sitting on the wicker loveseat, and I pulled a side table in front of me so I could watch the show on my laptop.

My focus is interrupted a second later when Ry appears, hovering over me. “Scoot over,” he orders.

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