Page 15 of Bad for Me

I open the closet doors and pick up the suitcase. It’s heavy, I made sure last night when I slipped in to pack all of her favorite items. Whatever she could possibly need, we’ll come back for it, when she no longer wants to run.

“N-no, stop. Dr—Bernard! What are you doing?”

I turn to find my dad stalking toward Meredith, the handkerchief she left behind in his hand.

“I can see you’re going to be difficult for a bit, so I’m taking the liberty of making sure you remain calm for the trip back to your new home.” Dad’s explanation rolls off his tongue easily.

Before she can respond, my father leaps forward. She screeches, dropping the hold on her towel to fend him off. But really, there’s no point. Not only do both of us tower over her and workout on a consistent basis, she has no leverage, nowhere to run, nor does she have the advantage of surprise.

My father presses the cloth to her face, ignoring her struggles. They don’t last long. Her whole body goes limp in a matter of seconds. Dad scoops her up before she can collapse and looks over at me.

“You ready to go?”

I grin. “Absolutely.”

9

MEREDITH

My mouth is dry.

That’s the first thing I notice as I wake. It’s so dry, in fact, that my tongue sticks painfully to the roof of my mouth. The second thing I notice is the dull ache that throbs at the front of my skull. Each pulse of pain spreads behind my eyes and makes my stomach protest. I squeeze my eyelids together tight, hoping to mentally force away the discomfort.

It doesn’t help.

Water. I need water. Then aspirin. Or maybe I’ll start with the aspirin and work my way to water. Either way, I need to get up if I want either of those things. How much wine did I drink last night? I open one eye a crack, bracing myself for sunlight that will inevitably make the ache so much worse.

To my relief, I’m not struck by a warm beam of light. I must’ve shut the curtains before heading to bed last night. I close my eye. This time, when I attempt to get my bearings, I open both eyes. My eyelids feel leaden, and my vision is blurry, still—I’ve managed one small task. Now it’s time to sit up.

I try, really I do. Yet I get nowhere. Trying to get my arms beneath me to push myself up feels impossible with how heavy they are. When I attempt to lift my head, it throbs harder than before. A groan slips past my lips as I try again but fail to sit upright.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

I stiffen at the sound of a familiar voice. Dr. Carlton? Why would he be in my house? As I squeeze my eyes tighter, all the events of the last time we were together replay like a movie on fast forward. And that last scene? The one where he lunges toward me with a cloth in his hand, is paused for me to remember vividly.

“Let me help you.” He sounds closer.

This time when I open my eyes, I blink rapidly to clear my vision. It comes on slowly. As it does, I realize I’m not in my room. I’m not back in my office either.

But I’m insomeone’soffice.

The wood paneling in the room has been painted a modern, light grayish-beige. The floor is a sleek, dark hardwood that stretches out from beneath a large and colorful oriental rug. There are two sleek, dark-gray chairs facing me with a narrow wooden side table resting between them. I lay across a comfortable light-brown suede couch. There’s dim recessed lighting overhead but most of the light in the room, though muffled by curtains, comes from a large window I see just behind the gray chairs and the large desk sitting behind them.

Where…?

I’m jostled as someone sits by my head. An arm hooks around my back and under my arms. With ease, I’m pulled upright against a hard body. I try to sit up all the way. Instantly, I regret trying. The room spins too fast and the throb in my head turns excruciating. I gasp as I slump back against Dr. Carlton.

“Take it easy, Meredith. You’ll be disoriented for a little bit before you’re able to get your bearings.” He moves a little, jostling my head. Suddenly, there’s a glass of water in front of my face. “Here, you must be parched.”

He brings the glass to my lips and tilts it toward me. I don’t fight him on this. Iamparched. The water that slides across my tongue is ice cold and delicious. My dry, scratchy throat is soothed as the water trickles down it. I clear my throat as Dr. Carlton pulls the glass away.

“There, you can have more in a minute. I don’t want you to choke if you’re struggling to swallow.” The concern in his voice sounds oddly genuine.

I lick my dry lips. As I take a steadying breath, I breathe in his fancy cologne. It’s faint but there, and I’m instantly intoxicated. For a moment my head clouds and my body relaxes, soaking in his scent. How many times have I held up his jacket and breathed this man in? Now I’m pressed against him, surrounded by his scent.

Stealing a few more seconds to myself, I pretend I’m here with him for anything other than nefarious reasons. When I can no longer lie to myself, I take a deep breath and attempt to speak.

“Where—?” My voice comes out as a croak. I clear my throat again. “Where am I?”

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