Page 2 of Beautiful Delusions

“It’s healthy to know someone is on hand, even if it’s just to touch base. We have a wealth of counselors and student groups dedicated to mental health, but I thought you might prefer something a little more…intimate.”

“You know of my history.” My cheeks flare. I shouldn’t be embarrassed, and it was foolish to think my details were only shared with the Dean himself. Lorna doesn’t shrink away from the conversation like I do.

“I’m on the board of directors. We all discussed your request to be placed in a dormitory on your own.” My brows immediately furrow, my tongue let loose before I can catch it.

“So it’s your fault,” I snap out of nowhere. Lorna doesn’t flinch, but I do. “Sorry. I just–it’s just easier when I’m on my own. It would have caused me a lot less stress if I had a place of solace.”

“I do understand, especially given your past,” Lorna appears sympathetic. It quickly vanishes. “However, the last university you attended had to pry you out of your room. You missed classes on a daily basis and barricaded yourself in with a wall of books. Socializing may not come easily to you, but it could help to have some encouragement. Your roommate has been carefully chosen to ensure you’re encouraged to go to class and study.” I scoff. Yeah, my roommate is a thieving fucking saint. An emotion crosses Lorna’s face, which is too close to pity for my liking. “We all want what’s best for you, Sophia.”

“Understood,” I nod woodenly. “Weekly meetings and a roommate to force me out of my room. Is that everything?” Jazzie looks up at my face, booming with pride. I’m not being rude intentionally, but once the mask of fear slips, there’s nothing underneath to cushion my mood. I’m a shell of regret and irritation unless my head is in a book. Lorna doesn’t stop myexit, telling me to make our appointment at the reception as the door slips closed between us. I do just that, with the alternative being that Lorna will track me down with surprise meetings I can’t prepare for.

Nodding my thanks to Kyra, I leave on numb legs, pausing outside the electronic doors. Classes don’t start until tomorrow, but I wish I had the distraction now. Looking towards the library, I feel the tug. The pull of a thousand worlds ready to be unleashed on my mind, to fill my dreams with words where acceptance comes so easily. Where love truly exists. I’m halfway there without realizing it when my shoe skids to a stop, a small voice reaching my ears.

“Billions of ice and rock fragments. Billions of ice and dust. No, wait…was it…” Peering around the corner, an alcove against the student block becomes visible. Wooden in structure, a pointed roof shrouded in layers of wisteria, white as jasmine and swaying gently over the entrance. Through the gaps, I see her sitting on a bench only big enough to seat two. A timid girl with bunched shoulders. Thin, pale, and wringing the strap of a handbag in her lap, chewing on her marred bottom lip. “Yes, that’s it. The fragments are torn apart by Saturn’s gravity. Billions of ice and rock fragments coated in dust form the rings. I think. Oh fuck, wait no–”

I step closer, intent on asking if she’s okay when I hear that tell-tale sound. The shake of a plastic bottle, the pop of a cap. I still, my heart kicking up a beat. Using her bag as a shield, she can’t hide the small blue pill in her open palm from me.

“Is that Valium?!” I’m unable to hold myself back, bursting through the flowers to invade her sanctuary. She yelps, flinching as if she can also see Jazzie in my peripheral, swirling a baseball bat around. Plastering a look of concern on my face, I lower beside her knees. A stranger filled with compassion, only looking out for her wellbeing.

“Yeah, right,”Jazzie chuckles in my head. A series of unnerving instructions follow to get that pill at any cost.

“It…it’s my last one, and I need to relax if I’m going to be able to study. Professor Harrison always starts the semester with a quiz.” The girl is shaking, riddled with an anxiety I know all too well. The blonde in her hair has grown out, brown roots tracing her scalp to where it’s tucked behind her ears. Her eyes are wide, glazed as if she might just burst into tears, and her entire being would turn into a puddle at my feet.

“I hear you. Tests can be stressful, but believe me,” I shift to sit by her side, eyeing the pill in her open palm, “you’re strong. You’ve already studied, right?” She nods. “Then you must believe in yourself, face your fears, and prove you’re worth more than your nerves allow.”

Relaying back what multiple therapists have told me, my responding smile is watery, hiding my desperation. This is for her own good. Maybe a little encouragement is all she needs. Fuck knows, all I need is right there, inches away, with a V printed on the pill.

“Here, let me dispose of that for you. No one needs to know.” I slowly raise my fingers. She sits a little straighter, tracking my movements like a rabbit about to bolt. I’m cautious, not once rushing. Not when my own hand begins to shake, an eager sweat breaking out across my brow. My pinkie grazes her wrist, jolting her into action. Her palm moves within a blink, that precious blue pill thrust into her mouth and swallowed on a whimper. I gape at her.

“She’s going to run for it,”Jazzie warns as the girl clings to her bag and does just that. Although, she’s not fast enough. Fisting her hair, my actions aren’t my own as she shrieks, and I hastily cover her mouth.

“You must know where to get more. Tell me,” I ground out, intent on dragging her body a step back into the shadows of thebuilding. Adrenaline burns through my muscles with the effort to hold her in place, while Jazzie’s voice in my head coaxes me onward.‘Wring the answers from her. Show her who you really are.’I shudder, realizing what I’m doing. This isn’t who I really am, or at least not who I want to be. Preparing to release the poor girl, muttering sounds through my hand.

“There’s a party,” she rasps as I give her an inch to speak. “Tonight, Thorn Manor. Ask for Lucas. He…he can get you whatever you want.” Her large eyes are full of tears as she looks up at me, the fear I’m pouring into her working against her Valium. Releasing her, I duck back into the alcove, hiding long after she’s fled. Raking my hands through my blue hair, I pace around Jazzie, ignoring the approval she tries to give. She can’t keep making me do that. I’m not supposed to be that person anymore.

Clinging to the hope the girl won’t squeal to the nearest person who will listen, I calm my erratic breathing. In for three, out for five, until my chest unclenches. Lucas can get whatever I want. That’s the new focus. I have a whole day until this party, until any hopes of getting some form of release. Snatching up my brown envelope from the ground, I root around inside for my café card and hold it like a lifeline. If I don’t have drugs, I’ll take the next best thing. Coffee.

“What do you mean, my card isn’tvalid?! I just got it,” I seethe over the counter. My knuckles are white, and nostrils are fully flared. Some preppy douchebag, with his polo shirt buttoned to the top, holds up a finger, placing a quick call before coming back to me.

“The cards are valid from the first day of full enrolment,” he looks me up and down like I have fleas, “which for you is tomorrow.” The scent of caffeine, the clang of machinery, the hiss of steam all mock me as I hold up the line. Bunching my shoulders, I scowl, silently wishing a violent case of diarrhea onthis asshole before stalking away. No drugs, no fucking coffee. What’s next? Slamming my hands into the glass door, my sneakers hit the ground harder than necessary. There’s only one place left to go.

Once more, Jazzie is waiting at the top of the library steps. I should have given up and come here in the first instance. Poised within a pointed archway, framed by intricate stone carvings, I need to use my weight against the wooden door for it to creak open. This building, like the clock tower across the courtyard, must be one of the last remaining from the original campus. Slipping inside, several floors of railings meet my gaze.

Connected by winding staircases, I find myself in the center, levels bellowing out into the ground below as well as towering above. Grand chandeliers glimmer against brass railings, the tarnished color at odds with the wrinkled and cracked spines of first editions. Dust circulates the scent of aged paper. The breath is knocked from me long before someone shoves open the door, slamming into my back. Growling, I shuffle forward.

My mind is distracted as I approach the main desk, scribbling out my details on a registration form. The bookcases, the shelves. So many shelves. So many spines waiting for their stories to be revealed. This is where I feel safe. Where worlds of heartbreak and angst await. This is where I feel sane.

“Sophia,” a harsh voice snaps. I whip my head back to the woman behind the desk, her plaque naming her as Head Librarian - Mrs. Russell.

“Um, did you say something?” I blink rapidly. The gray-haired woman is well past retirement age, her back hunched from the weight of carrying heavy paperbacks for the past forty-odd years. The kind who will work here until she’s forced out by new management, and then probably volunteer to dust the banisters until she dies. I grow dazed, realizing I can seemyself becoming the next Mrs. Russell. Her bones creak like the bookshelves as she snatches the pen from my hand.

“I’m locking up at ten sharp, whether you’re in or out. If you spill tea on a book, you pay for its replacement,” her gnarled finger points to a table across the platform. It’s simple, foldable on metal legs with a cloth draped over the plastic top. A singular hot water tank steams beside a random assortment of mugs, mostly chipped, an open box of tea bags, a jug of milk, and a heap of sweetener packets fulfilling the complimentary refreshments. Not coffee, but I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.

Accepting my new library card, I fix a tea and lose myself amongst the shelves. Two levels down, I find what I’m looking for. Dark romance, typically in a seedy, shadowed section with a beanbag in the corner. I don’t dare touch it, not without my UV light to inspect it first. Lifting out a random book, the first one I spot with ‘wrath’ in the title, I settle cross-legged on the floor where Jazzie is already waiting. Prying open the front cover, I release a heavy sigh, emptying my mind as I dive in.

***

The lights go out. I jolt, splashing cold tea over the rim of the mug, pattering the denim of my skirt. As long as it didn’t stain the pages–that’s all I care about. It takes a moment of reeling to realize I’m on the last few chapters of the book in my hand, time lost to me as much as my hold on reality. It’s not uncommon for me to check out completely. Not when fiction is where my heart thrives.

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