Page 41 of Worship

My eyes close with disgust, hating the moisture in my eyes. All forhim. Sitting up and leaning against the bed frame, I lift my hands and clap them together. “Congratulations, Milton. What a performance. I suppose Nick was part of your brilliant plan as well? How long have you been planning this?”

“Nick?” He goes silent, lines creasing his forehead. “Impossible,” I think he says to himself before standing so quick the chair crashes to the floor behind me. “You’relying.”

“Stop the act—”

“Thisisn’ta fucking act!” Bending over, he picks me up off of the floor, a cry of surprise leaving my mouth as he slams my body down onto the bed. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not, you are! He told me Blake is coming for me at Elise’s wedding. He wants me back.” He’s silent for several moments, hands gripping my shoulders so tight I groan from the pressure.

He lets go. “Nicolas wasn’t my doing.”

Fisting the tears out of my eyes, I turn away, bottom lip trembling. Then I flinch when Milton’s fingers lightly touch the bruises on my neck. Bruises everyone else ignored, thinking I did it myself. His touch is gone, and footsteps sound on the floor. I turn back, seeing he’s already yanking the door open.

“Where are you going?” He doesn’t stop. “Milton!”

Without looking at me, he leaves, slamming the door behind him. As I listen to his footsteps get further away, it slowly sinks in that he’s not going to help me, and that once again, I have nobody.

Chapter Nineteen

Aweek has passed, and Milton hasn’t come back, but he stopped the cruel tricks. Because of mygood behavior, they stopped giving me sedatives and started letting me out of my room. I’ve slowly gotten strength back into my legs, encouraged to exercise and eat, no longer weighed down by drug-induced lethargy. Though it’s taken its toll.

After all, breaking down, picking yourself up, and trying again is exhausting when doing it for the hundredth time. It squeezes the life out of you as if something unknown is trying its hardest to stop you.

Are you sure you want to?Are you sure you don’t want to die instead?

With my restrictions all lifted, Gabriella calls on Friday to tell them she’s taking me out on Saturday for bridesmaid dress shopping. Elise wants to get married in June, and it’s nearing December. The wedding will be here suddenly…and my time will be up.

Gabriella arrives early Saturday morning. Dressed in a conservative silk suit, her hair curled and makeup perfect, she looks vivacious. “I was on Haven FM this morning talking about my new book. Five-star reviews. You should be proud of me,” she says while driving.

“Soproud,” I sarcastically reply, not knowing why I expected her to be concerned about why she has’t been able to see me in a while. But I suppose it doesn’t matter how many times you put a fresh coat of paint over something. If there’s mold there to begin with, it will eventually seep through, and Gabriella is decaying behind the paint.

“Glad to see you’re back to yourself. Sarcasm and all.” I turn to look out of the window because anything is better than looking at her. Even at the city I hate. “What were all the theatrics about anyway? They said you attacked a nurse,” she mocks. “I told them you wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I nearly strangled her.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Must’ve been the medication they were giving you. Probably disagreed. I’m beginning to question this facility. It seems they don’t care about their staff or patients. Poor Ashley—the only decent doctor in the place is getting terrible treatment. And underpaid!” I stiffen at the mention of Dr. Rogue. I haven’t seen her in days either. She canceled our appointment due to a family emergency, and a temp has taken her place in the clinic.

We eventually arrive at our destination. It’s a little bridal boutique named Lenore’s—everything that would make a single, loveless person’s stomach churn. And mine does. Repeatedly.

Elise is waiting with her best friend, Olivia when we go inside. She’s every bit as snooty, and privileged as you would expect the daughter of a judge to be, purposefully avoiding eye contact with me when we go over to them.

“Heidi.” Elise’s hands fall on my shoulder, and for a moment, it seems like she wants to pull me into a hug. Thankfully, she doesn’t. “Thank you so much for agreeing to be my bridesmaid. It means a lot to me.”

I should tell her that I didn’t agree to anything and was forced to keep her happy, but I don’t. Maybe because I feel slightly sorry for what she’s marrying. “Do you have any idea of what colors you want your bridesmaids to wear?” Gabriella interrupts, browsing dresses on a rack, her nose turning up at a few of them.

“I was thinking pink or gray,” she replies. “What do you think, Olivia?”

“Any would go well with the white roses you chose. And lovely for summertime.”

Slumping in one of the plush antique chairs, I listen as they continue discussing dress colors and styles. Bored out of my mind already, my thoughts a million miles away, a woman appears from behind a white floor-length curtain and wanders over to us.

Lenore, I’m guessing, given howwell-to-doshe looks.

“Lowdon, I presume?” she asks with a smile that screams,give me your money!

Eyeing me sagged in the chair, confusion wriggles her brow, and I’m pretty sure she’s wondering if I’ve wandered in from the street for a place to sit. I’m wearing Elise’s old clothes again. My pale and gaunt face adds to the hobo look, my hair scraped back into a scruffy knot. When she notices I’ve caught her in her staring act, she quickly averts her gaze, cheeks turning red. “Which one of you is the bride?”

“That would be me.” Elise steps forward, holding out her hand to shake Lenore’s. “It’s lovely to meet you, Lenore. My stepmother here tells me you’re the best in the city, and I have been admiring your dresses for years.”

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