Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
My love of psychology, of figuring out how the mind worked, and the college classes I’d taken about the topic gave me a vast foundation of knowledge to draw from to realize just how fucked in the head I was.
With a tired sigh, I turned off the shower then stepped out, drying my body before giving my reflection a cursory glance as I brushed my teeth.
Dark circles beneath my eyes were my new norm, and I’d invested quite a bit of money in concealer sticks to try and mask their presence. My eyes were a light green color, so whenever I cried, it was really obvious. Lately, I’d stopped wearing makeup, not wanting to draw attention to my always-red eyes. The stress was wearing me down, and every day seemed worse than the one before.
I’d discovered a few weeks ago that sleeping pills made me feel even more depressed, so those weren’t an option for me. I had an appointment to see a psychiatrist, but it wasn’t for another three weeks. Only a few places took my shit insurance, and I was on a waiting list at each with instructions to see my primary caregiver right away if I felt like harming myself. Thankfully, I had no urge to hurt myself. I wasn’t suicidal like I’d been as a teenager, but I was becoming agoraphobic. The thought of going someplace crowded, like a mall or a concert, made me break out into a cold sweat.
Going into the small walk-in closet, I dug through the built-in drawer containing my sweatpants and leggings. Because of my promise to Ramón and the power of the Cordova name, I was finishing my last semester of school from home. This meant I could basically live in my scrubby clothes, so I did.
As I tugged on a pair of leggings printed with an Alice in Wonderland theme, I tried to remember the last time I’d made an effort to look nice. It had to be a week ago, when I’d gone to dinner at the Cordova house with Hannah and Leo. The Cordovas had been different with me…distant, almost. Like I was a welcome guest, but a guest nonetheless. It had hurt my feelings, and I’d pleaded a stomach ache and left early.
Tying my hair up with a pink scrunchie, I slid my feet into a pair of fawn brown leather slippers and shuffled my way out the door.
I wondered, once again, as I moved through the really nice house, why Mark was single. He had money, good looks, and sure he was older, but he was still hot. We had no chemistry together—I mean none, to the point it was almost like we had negative chemistry—which was nice. It allowed me to relax around him, instead of wondering if I’d have to fight off his advances at some point. From the time I hit puberty onward, men seem to mistake my friendship for flirting. I’ve, unfortunately, gotten very good at turning men down without insulting them. I’d learned early on that men got super defensive if you shot them down and didn’t soothe their ego about it, so I’d become a master at deescalating potentially embarrassing situations.
Memories of all the unwanted advances I’ve dealt with over the years left me feeling slightly ill, so I didn’t notice at first when I entered the kitchen that I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t expecting anyone—Mark was usually off working his odd hours or sleeping at this time of night—so when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, I screamed and dropped to the ground.
“Jesus Christ,” Hannah’s familiar voice, husky with sleep, came closer a moment before she emerged from the shadows leading to the living room. “Are you okay?”
I tried to speak, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper that made me feel unbearably weak and ashamed.
Dressed in a pair of pajama pants with kittens on them and a white tank top, Hannah tossed her long black hair over her shoulder before she hugged me, “Joy, it’s just me, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I tried to laugh it off, but what came out was a watery, hiccupping sob. “It’s okay, you didn’t scare me.”
“Riiiggghhht,” Hannah said as she helped me up and brought me into the living room. “We’ll pretend you pee’d yourself with ‘Happy to see you’ pee instead of ‘I almost crapped my pants’ pee.”
I gave her a weak smile. “You’re weird.”
“I know.”
The wide, well-lit sitting area was done in shades of cinnamon and gold, perfectly complimenting the wonderful desert landscape views that were visible during the day. Right now, the backyard was illuminated by tasteful lighting around the different types of cactus and native trees decorating the space. Down in the valley below, and on the mountains in the distance, golden lights twinkled. I spied a pillow and blanket on the massive rust red leather sofa that faced the gigantic TV across the room.