Page 106 of Little Psycho

Being alone, confined in this outdated, lonely room, brings back haunting memories of my time locked in the attic of my parents’ house.The nightmares that plague my mind worsen with each passing night.

I can’t eat.I can’t sleep.I can’t even fucking breathe.

I had believed that freedom would improve my mental state, but since moving to this motel on the outskirts of the city, my mind feels fractured.At least when I was living with the guys, I could find solace in sleep.I didn’t feel so isolated; I found myself smiling more than I ever thought possible.

But with the threat of their fathers and my own parents closing in, I fled in search of safety.Now, I don’t even feel safe in my own skin.

My thighs ache, my inner arms sting, and the deep, jagged cuts, now scabbed over, serve as harsh reminders of my struggle with self-harm.In this solitude, I’ve made up for the time I spent with the guys, resisting the urge to cut.My poor arms and legs bear the weight of my pain, etched with scars that throb and burn.

But still, I can’t seem to stop.

"Take your meds, Cali."Addy, stern and demanding, appears suddenly beside me, her crystal eyes glowing in the dark.

"Leave me alone," I snap, not bothering to lift my head from between my knees to look at her.

She only wants to come around when I'm alone; she was absent when I was with the guys, but here she is suddenly, trying to boss me around.

"I won't.You're losing focus, and you're letting your feelings for the guys derail all of the plans we made."I can hear her huff, as if she's pissed, which only pisses me off.

"I'm not losing focus, Addy.I'm working my way down the list," I fire back, deciding to light the joint tucked behind my ear.

"Oh, and where are you with it?How many more do you have left?"

"Seven."I inhale and hold the smoke deep in my lungs, feeling the high spread through my entire body and relaxing me.

She stands up, snatching my medication off the grungy nightstand, determined for me to take them—just like my mother used to.Pouring an assortment into her hand that looks like a bunch of colorful candy.

"I don't care what you say; you're letting them boys get in the way.You're distracted, not thinking clearly, and it's partly because you've been skipping your meds."She holds her hand out, clutching a bottle of vodka for me to wash them down with.

I give in, scooping the pills into my hand and popping them into my mouth.Not a big drinker, I still snatch the bottle out of her other hand and take a giant swig, finding myself chasing the intense burn that coats my throat.

"Good," Addy mutters, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and relief."Now, can we please talk about what’s next?”

I roll my eyes but know she's right; the last few days have been spent in a haze, alternating between flashes of memories that make my chest tighten and bursts of anger that leave me feeling spent.

“What’s next?”I echo, trying to sound more interested than I actually am.

“First, it’s dangerous out there, and you know that.The last thing we need is for someone to catch wind of what we’re doing," she says, pacing the small space, her energy palpable.“We have to make sure you’re feeling sharp.”

I grip my hair, tugging at the strands.“Right, ‘dangerous out here.’But what about in here?”I gesture vaguely to the confines of the room.Despite the chill in the air, I begin to sweat, the heat from the vodka mixing with my pills and the weight of Addy's words pushing me down further against the wall.“Nothing feels right anymore.”

Addy softens a bit, letting her shoulders slack.“I know.But we’ve come too far to fall apart now.This isn’t just about us anymore.It’s about finding a way to break free from their control—yours and mine.We fight for our future.”Her eyes lock onto mine, and despite myself, I feel a flicker of hope.

“And what if I can’t fight?”I ask, the truth seeping out like a slow leak.

Her lips press into a line, and for a moment, I see the mask of confidence slip.

“Cali, don’t say that.You’re stronger than you think.You just need to channel that energy.We have a plan, and you have friends who want to help—who care.”Her voice builds around a sense of urgency.

I draw in a shaky breath, stubbing my joint on the corner of a wooden table.

“Yeah, but care can only take you so far,” I mumble, feeling the bitterness twist in my gut.“None of them really understand.”

“Maybe they don’t.But they want to understand.And you have to allow them in, even just a little,” she replies, grabbing a scarf from a hook by the door.“This thing depends on all of us being on the same page.You in?”

I hesitate, a part of me screaming to resist, to stay wrapped in the warm cocoon of bitterness that’s kept me company in the darkness.But another part—a brighter, softer part—whispers that there’s a way through.

“Okay, I’ll try,” I say at last, pushing myself up to stand, feeling unsteady on my feet.

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