Page 8 of Little Psycho

They used to be my best friends, and I haven’t seen them in years.They don’t even look the same.They’re grown now, each with an array of tattoos that cover almost every inch of their skin—tattoos that tell a story I desperately want to read.

But when we walk into the decorated room with neon signs, sex toys, and candlelight, I know exactly why the boys are here.Their fathers are here, lined up to partake in the bidding.

I feel rage instantly boil inside of me as I face the crowd of vile men, and as I stand on the platform, my resolve crystalizes.With every breath that I take, I’m already working on a plan to bring down this house of horrors—to exact my revenge on those who have kept me locked away for so long.And this time, there will be no fucking escape for them.I’ll make sure they all pay for what they’ve done to me.

Their reign of terror will end, and it’ll end at my hands.

Standing on the pedestal I was placed on, I take notice as everyone finds their seats.I’m used to this part now—I’m used to all of it.

The posing.

The eyes.

The bidding.

The eyes.

The win.

The eyes.

The night.

The eyes.

But what I’m not used to is seeing my three ex-best friends take their seats next to their fathers.What makes me feel better is that none of them look like they want to be here.

Tonight is another ‘special night’ mother says; it’s my twenty-first birthday.She’s thrown these giant, elaborate ‘shows’ once a year, always on my birthday.Tonight’s is different, she says, but I haven’t figured out what she means.

I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest as the lights dim and the room falls silent, but I can’t.At least Addy is beside me—always right beside me.

There’s something about the way my mother is looking at me that makes me uneasy, but I push the thought to the back of my mind as the familiar routine begins.

“Ignore her, Cali,” Addy says in a soft, calming voice.

“Easy for you to say,” I fire back, feeling my limbs start to shake even though my meds are making my entire body numb.

As the show starts, I force myself to focus on the faces in the crowd rather than the familiar faces that I wish weren’t there.But before I can get lost in the sea of hungry eyes, my attention is pulled back to the stage as my mother’s voice booms through the crowded room.

“Good evening, gentlemen.I present to you the main attraction,” she says, her tone eerily excited.

I feel a bead of sweat forming on my brow as I try not to let my anxiety show.I glance at my ex-best friends, but they’re looking away, their expressions a mixture of discomfort and guilt.Then suddenly, as the curtain draws back, I see what my mother meant by ‘different’.Standing before the crowd, I see not a familiar face but a shiny, silver pole and a single chair beside it.

“Tonight,” my mother announces, her voice filled with malicious delight, “we have a very special performance by our birthday girl.She’s going to dance for you all.”

My heart drops as the realization hits me.

Thiswasdifferent.

This wasn’t about the bidding or the win.This was about me being put on display and humiliated once again.

“Not only that, but one lucky person from the crowd is going to join Calista up on stage for a dance.”She laughs sadistically, walking toward me in slow, light steps.“And she’ll be in her purest form for everyone to see.Tonight, you get to look at the prize you’ll be bidding on,” she adds, grinning.

My stomach flops, and I feel like I’m going to puke.My anxiety creeps up, bringing on the manic part of my bipolar, and I can feel myself slipping into the darkness I try to stay away from.

The crowd cheers louder than I’ve ever heard, which makes it all worse.My mother grabs my arm and pulls me behind the curtain, taking out a bottle of pills from her bra.

“Take these.They’ll make tonight a hell of a lot easier for you because the surprises are just getting started.”She pours an assortment of my pills into her hand and forces them down my throat, making me gag and almost throw them up.

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