An older man wielding a salt and pepper beard clutched a stack of menus against his chest as he stepped closer to the defeated girl sitting at the table, a sympathetic expression on his worn face.
"Miss...I'm sorry, but we're locking up. I have to ask you to go now."
She blinked away the water that gathered in the corner of her eyes and nodded, pulling herself up from the chair. She began to pull out her wallet but the man gestured that it was 'on the house.'
Her heels hit the pavement of the dead sidewalk and despite her knowing in the pit of her stomach that there would be nothing, she pulled her phone out, a photo of her and a brunette boy set as her background illuminating the night around her. She slid her finger down, her calendar reminding her of why her chest hurt like it did. It had been four years of this to the date. She thought about smiling but it evaporated as quickly as the moisture in the muggy night air. Four years of her young life and it had been becoming more and more apparent that they were nothing more than wasted.
Jesse Rothman was the cutest guy in school and he wanted something, anything to do with her. He never failed to make her knees quiver or make her heart beat faster when he walked into a room. He never failed to break that heart every time he left either. Every time she let him back in just so he could repeat the vicious circle.
There were too many times to count.
There were too many times to count.
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She woke up to six missed calls and a long list of texts from Jesse trying to validate where he was and what he was so preoccupied with that he forgot all about her, again. He forgot her birthday the first year they were together and maybe she was too sensitive, at least that's what he told her, but she just wanted to feel like he cared. That's all she's ever wanted from him.
This hurt the same as it did four years ago.
Her cheeks felt stiff from the salty tears that had stained them while she slept. Something in her chest moved in last night and she thought that she would sleep it off but it didn't seem to budge. It was a hollowing that she hadn't felt before. Pulling her hair in a bun, she sighed before unlocking her phone as it rang again. She stood there, breathing but not saying anything. What was she supposed to say?
"Holland? I'm sorry, I've been up and so stressed out of my mind that I passed out last night. You know how finals week can be. I'm not a genius like you, so I've been going insane. Please, baby, let me make it up to you. Get our minds off everything and have some fun. Come to a party with me tonight, yeah? I need to see that pretty face of yours."
It's like his words melted the ice that was forming around her soul, like he could make anything better no matter how bad it got, no matter how bad he messed up, he'd always build her back up.
The corners of her mouth turned upward, "Okay. I believe you."
She couldn't help herself, he was routine. A bad habit. She was just an awkward freshman when she met him, and it's like he saw something in her that no one else did. And he took that something and never let it go.
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Some popular rap song echoed through the room of the frat house she followed Jesse to that night. She convinced herself that this time it was because of the stress of finals. Or maybe because she just didn't want to acknowledge that void in her chest anymore. A reason always seemed to make itself known. She slid the card across the glass tabletop, remnants of the fine, white powder going with it.
"I never knew you had it in you, Hol."
"Yeah well you're the one to thank for that." She retorted, elbowing him in the side. He grinned and pulled her to him, kissing her lips.
"You don't seem to be complaining. You love it almost as much as you love me."
She stumbled into a nearby bathroom, splashing water on her face. Her eyeliner was smudged and her hair was in disarray, making her look like a raccoon that got in a fight with the wind. She looked in the mirror but she couldn't see herself.
"Maybe one day I'll stop. I can't do this forever."
The music that's thumping outside the door abruptly stopped and the air around her fell dangerously silent. A lump caught in her throat and she stepped quietly, poking her head around the door frame. The red and blue lights were pouring in through the windows.
Shit.
Shit.
Her heart drummed inside her chest as she tried to rush down the hallway toward the kitchen, planning to escape out of the back door. Her vision was blurry from the alcohol but she made it.
Almost.
As she was at the end of the stairs the officer's voice rang in her ears and then his hand grabbed her as she ignored him. It may have been the absurd amount of alcohol she'd consumed or being blessed with little grace, but she tripped over what seemed to be her own drunken feet. Her head met the grass, the early morning dew making it stick into her disheveled hair. She felt her hands forced behind her back and tightly placed into cuffs.
Where is Jesse?
She got her answer as she saw him and two others, a tall boy and a red headed girl, slipping past a squad car into the woods unseen.
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Her head pounded, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears as she sat against the cold concrete wall of the cell. Part of her wanted to slam her head against it as it seemed like the better alternative to dealing with her dad. She would never hear the end of this. For years she had felt worthless to her father. A demigod normally shows their gift around the age a normal human hits puberty. But she wasn't a late bloomer. She was a never bloomer. And he acted as if she had any choice in the matter.
She strived for her father's approval all of her life. She got straight A's, was student body president, prom queen, captain of the dance team, and even went as far as to learn fluent Greek. But it never measured up to tainting the bloodline. She felt like a poisonous disgrace.
Her heart sank into her stomach as she heard her father's voice on the other side of the bars. She didn't want to open her eyes and see the disappointment on his face. Again. It's like it never really left.
"Holland, do you understand the kind of strings I had to pull so that you wouldn't rot in here?"
"...I can only imagine."
"I don't think you can. I had to go to Peitho."
She looked away. She didn't know who that was, but she knew that they were like her father, like something she would never be: A Greek god. Someone important.
"Dad...I'm sorry."
" You threw everything away, Holland. You're going to an institution in the morning so you can think about what you've done and get better. Maybe get the potential to make something of yourself back."
She wiped away the rogue tears that started rolling down her cheeks as she followed behind her father who was making his embarrassment clear. When they got to the house she stepped inside and her heart ached even more. She hadn't been home all year. She made an excuse to spend Thanksgiving with Jesse and she was snowed in for Christmas.
Her mother rushed to hug her and her eyeliner matted tears soaked onto her shoulder. She smelled like vanilla and honeysuckle. Like warmth, and safety. Her mother is the only person she ever truly had.
She collapsed on the bed with grass stuck to her ankles and her black, strappy party dress. Her old room was empty, she hadn't even began to box up her things in her dorm even though the school year dwindled down. She was consumed by other things.
And now she was consumed by new things entirely -Cravings, guilt, self-hatred...
But mostly she was consumed with pain. And until she passed out from exhaustion, she told her pillowcase all about it.
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