Page 54 of Alliance

I slam my fist into the dashboard of my Jeep, screaming out the pent-up frustration.

How the fuck am I going to fix this one?

Chapter Twenty-Two

THREE DAYS. SEVENTY-TWO HOURS. THAT’Show much freedom I have left.

After those three days, those sweet seventy-two hours, Lana Romano will cease to exist. In her place will be Mrs. LaFontaine, likely to be a miserable bitch.

I’m holding on. Only because Naz asked me to, though. My mind keeps wandering back to the fuzzy memories of drifting off. There’s a pang of guilt that hits my gut, wrecking me, but only in association to Naz. If it weren’t for him I probably would have let myself drift into the abyss.

Even though my mother was quick to correct me after the attempt. Google told her that pills weren’t an effective method of suicide. So even in my attempted death, I failed.

My parents didn’t handle the whole thing well. Since that day I’ve been carefully watched. My mother doesn’t leave me alone, for the first time in my life, she’s attentive to me. Stalking me like a child who’s incapable of taking care of herself. The sudden attention has only made me feel suffocated.

She follows me everywhere, constantly spending time with me under the pretense that she’ll miss me when I move in with Davis but I think we both know that’s a lie.

What’s worse is the secrecy around it. My parents refused to tell Davis what I did and limited my communication with the outside world as if that would suddenly make mebetter.I think in reality they’re embarrassed, ashamed of having two daughters who would rather die than live with them.

“This is nice,” Ma says, bringing her glass of diet coke to her lips. Diet coke because she won’t drink her normal glass of wine in front of me anymore. Tonight’s dinner at a restaurant in the Quarter was only because guilt had been gnawing at her.

She presented the idea to me this morning as a sort of last night out before marriage. I asked if she meant abachelorette partyand she frowned. I don’t think she likes to be reminded that I’m unhappy. She’s concocted her own reality where she believes this is okay and that I’m not slowly dying beside her.

I’ve concluded that’s how she does it. She disassociates so well she doesn’t even realize half the time. She’s so damn focused onwinning, on being better than her siblings that she has forgotten anything else exists.

Jealousy hits me. I wish I could live in my own dream world where none of this exists.

“Yep.” I’m not interested in small talk while I sit with my mother, stabbing at the green leaves on my plate.

It’s perfect timing really, the group of girls laughing loudly as they enter the restaurant. In the middle is a twenty-something girl with a tiara and a white veil. Her body is sheathed in a white bodycon dress with high heels. She’s surrounded by girls, chatting and smiling.

A chill slides down my arms as the heaviness settles in my chest, the weight crushing me. I can’t have that. No group of friends. No drunken debauchery. No night out.

Instead I’ll have surveillance as I count down the days until my pending marriage.

There’s a buzz running through my body, sounding loudly in my brain. I can’t focus on anything else but the bachelorette party, not my mother with her wedding talk, not the food on my plate,nothing. I’m overwhelmed with the ache in my heart, the sadness that has overtaken me.

I’ve run out of options and it’s slowly eating away at me.

I shouldn’t have called Naz. I think I should have just let myself drift away. But that line of thought makes me spiral again. I can remember the look on his face as he ran his fingers through my hair, holding me close to his chest. He wasdevastated.

If Davis wasn’t so damn controlling I would consider marrying him for appearances only and sneaking off with the man I truly loved, but I know that won’t work. My future husband wants to control everything.

I heave a breath, the anxiety welling up in my chest, and Carlotta gives me a sharp look.

She’s waiting for me to break, I think. Waiting for me to shove pills down my throat or find a more effective method. Her eyes dig into mine, looking for a sign, something to warn her of the incoming storm.

I can feel the beginning of it, the breakdown that’s coming for me and I know she can too.

Both of us know you can’t survive and not change a damn thing.

All of the feelings, all of the moments that lead me to downing the pill bottle like a shot of liquor are still there, lingering in the background noise.

My parents haven’t changed.

Davis hasn’t changed.

And neither have I.

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