Filed To Story: Pretty Poisoned Novel by Elle Mitchell
He grabs the walkie-talkie from his waistband and brings it to his mouth. “Hey, I’m bringing Townsend down,” he says. “Make sure none of the TVs are showing the news.”
“Copy that,” a woman replies. “Turning them off now.”
“You realize when I go home tomorrow, I’m going to be able to watch whatever I want, right?”
He shrugs. “It’s the doctor’s rules, not mine, Teagan. You’re not missing much, anyway.”
Part of my treatment includes keeping me away from news stations where I might see the latest maniacal stunt pulled by the bloodsluts or learn something about the investigation into Declan and Luca’s crimes or their whereabouts. Or, well, Declan’s whereabouts. From what others have told me, everyone has pretty much accepted that Luca is dead.
Even the fans have started to calm down. They don’t say his name anymore.
“Do they still write to me?” I ask. “The fans?”
He lowers his voice. “Maybe once a week or so they’ll get something and toss it. Nothing like in the first month.”
Sebastian scans his tag and checks me into the cafeteria, leaving me without another word. I take my breakfast burrito and fruit and find a spot in the back corner.
It was hard to be here at first. All I wanted was answersI wanted to know why they left me, I wanted to know why they lied. What was the point in making me feel the way they did? Was it just for Declan to prove that he could? Was it all part of the mindfuck?
Sometimes, it hurts that same way it did in the early days following their abandonmentlike someone is tearing my ribcage apart with their bare hands. On those days, the pain all but cripples me. I go through the motions, I cry for my ghosts. I close my eyes and pretend it didn’t happen and that, when I open them next, it’ll all be over.
But sometimes, I wake up and all I see is red; I let the rage seep into every crevice, every cell of my body, using it as fuel, and being angry at Declan is the only thing that keeps me going. On those days, I think if I could get my hands on something sharp, I’d slice that letter ‘D’ clean off my chest. And if I could get my hands on Declan, I’d roll up that fileted chunk of skin, shove it down his throat, and laugh while he chokes on it.
It’d only be fair.
Lost in that scene in my head, I snap my stupid compostable fork in half.
Whoops.
I give up on the fruit and grab my burrito.
It was Alana who talked to the policewho told them about Layla and Declan’s fascination with suicides. The amount of live-streamed suicides after this made the news was enough for many states to declare a public health crisis, and it wasn’t long before their music was banned from streaming services and radio stations. All of their merch was pulled from chain retailers, which was great for the little guys who were able to cash in.
They all hoped they’d come back. I hoped they’d come back. But aside from the fanatics, everyone seems to have let it go now. It’s long past time I did, too.
But the idea of letting goof admitting to myself that none of it was realhurts, too. I think of Luca. I think of how he washed my hair and told me he’d love me until his heart stopped. I think of Declan telling me that I’m perfect, I’m poetry, and the rest of the world was just beige.
That’s how everything feels to me nowjust beige. Like the lifeless walls of the room I’ve called home for the past three months, the world is completely devoid of color. They sucked the life out of everything around me when they left me an empty husk that used to be human in the dirt in Wyoming. The trees are beige. The people around me are beige. This fucking burrito even tastes beige.
I choke down as much as I can before returning my tray.
“I’m ready to go back,” I tell the woman moderating the room.
“Townsend needs an escort back to the dorms,” she says into her walkie.
“I’ll grab her,” a voice replies. “She has a visitor.”
I wait between the woman and a security guard until Sebastian meets me at the doorway.
“Who is it?” I ask as he leads me to the front deck.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Some blonde girl. I didn’t ask.”
A blonde girl?
My heart pounds in my chest as I pick up my pace, almost running now as we make our way down the hall.
“Slow down, Teagan,” he says.
But I don’t listen. I push through the doors and begin scanning the area.
My heart drops when my eyes meet Blakely’s. She smiles, giving me a small wave.
I turn to Sebastian with tears in my eyes. “You said she was blonde.”
“She is blonde.”
“She has four fucking highlights. That’s not blonde.” I blink, sending the tears rolling down my cheeks. “Fuck you. I fucking hate your ass.”
I turn and walk to the table, sitting opposite my sister with my arms crossed in front of me.
“I take it you’re not happy to see me,” Blakely says.
“Not really,” I tell her.
“Mom’s here, too,” she says. “She’s just grabbing some coffee. Um, how have you been? Are you doing better?”
“Better than what?” I ask.
She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
“Since when do you care? I’ve been here for three months, Blake. Where have you been?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to get better. And from what I understand, you have gotten betterenough that they’re going to send you home. I want to have you in my life, Teagan. Just not the way you were.”
“That took a lot longer than I anticipated,” my mom says, setting a coffee in front of Blakely before taking her seat. “I told you it was beautiful out here, Blakely. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Rancho San Flores is nestled in the foothills of the Santa Anas. The views are nice enough and the facility clean enough to convince family members that they’re sending their loved onesor tolerated ones, in my caseon peaceful little vacations to get their minds straight. But we need escorts to walk the halls and some of the residents are kept so medicated they barely blink. That was me in the early days.
Of course, out here on the wraparound porch sipping coffee and lemonade, you don’t see any of that.
“It really is,” Blakely says. “I’m impressed; I might want to book a weekend here.”
Mom laughs. “Are you sure you want to come home, Teagan?”
“There’s an electric fence over ten feet high,” I say, unamused. “It’s Jurassic fucking Park, Mom.”
“Teagan,” my mom says, shaking her head. “Would it kill you to be a little more positive?”
“I am positively ready to get the fuck out of here,” I tell her. “Does that count?”
She sighs. “This is a fresh start for all of us, and I want you to treat it that way, Teagan. Not everyone gets those, you know.”
I think of Brady and Rhett, and my chest tightens. I know. I know all too well.
“Yeah, fine. I’ll treat it that way.”
“And I want us to be friends again, too, Teagan,” Blakely says. “I want to be there for you; I want you to be a bridesmaid at my wedding.”
“Isn’t that nice, Teagan?” my mom asks.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” I lie. That’s the last fucking thing on Earth I want to do now.
“Anyway, I know you have your appointment soon; we meant to get here earlier, but traffic was crazy, wasn’t it, Blake?”
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.