Page 65 of Ivy's Venom

“I’m fine.” Robotic.

“Are you?” I reach out and touch her arm. She pulls away and sucks in a breath.

“I just haven’t been feeling well.”

“Alright,” I pull my hand back and scratch my head. “Did your phone blow up in your face?”

“Nope.” She answers but I see a slight curve on her lips.

“Pity.”

“I’m just not feeling good lately, I need some time to forget.” She whispers.

“Forget what?”

“Forget life.” She turns to open the car door and I stop her with my hand on her arm.

“I’m not asking you to explain to me what’s going on,” I twist a lock of her hair around my finger, “but could you please just answer a text? Once a day?”

“I don’t know where my phone is.” She sounds on the verge of tears. “I think I lost it.”

“In your house?”

“No,” she sucks in a large breath. “At the strip maybe.”

It sounds like a lie but I don’t know which part exactly.

“Okay. I’ll send you a new phone.”

Her eyes finally turn and land on mine, air escapes me when I see the depth of their despair.

“You’re going to buy me a new phone?” She sounds sceptical.

“Mr. Greene works me hard but he pays me really well.” I smile at her.

I get no reaction.

“Just receive the package and answer a text a day.”

“I’ll try.” She whispers, her voice breaking.

Then she gets out of my car and slowly walks back through the gates, the sound of them closing behind her deafening.

What happened after I saw her at the strip? What triggered this?

It’s been a week and I still can’t bear to be around people. Seeing Neil a few days ago almost sent me right back into the black depth I’ve been slowly clawing my way out of.

This would happen every few months in New York and usually after Dean took my punishments to depraved levels. Being pissed on is a new level for me.

I did receive a new phone from Neil yesterday and it’s still sitting on my bed, in its box. I’ve been trying to work myself up to open it and see what his texts say.

“I helped him set it up.” Saxon says at my doorway.

Number one rule of my depressive states… my room door stays open at all times. So, I have no choice but to endure my family.

“It’s replaced your old phone. What happened to the other phone?” He asks.

“Lost it.” My voice croaks from misuse.And all my collection of photos is lost with it. Everything I filed away to remind myself that I made my own choices, gone.

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