Page 19 of Kill Me

My appointment for ECT is today. I didn't tell Harley that that's what was planned when he asked me to meet up with him and continue our talk. Maybe it was shame, maybe it was ignorance, but the last thing I wanted was for my parents to steamroll this and ruin my first opportunity to get better. Maybe once I’m in a better place, they'll actually be proud of me. Even after everything they've done, I crave their acceptance. I have this delusion that one day, I'll wake up from this world, in another one with the same family, but different. There was a movie I watched at school once called Pleasantville. It's about a brother and sister who are transported into a TV show in the 1950s in black and white, but they must stay in character and change the town's dynamics. As their influence grows, colour filters in, changing the world in the most profound way. That's how I feel. Like I live one life in black and white and one life in colour, and there're no cracks for the colour to filter in and blend both lives together. Maybe in a different world Eric would love me, and if he did, maybe she would, too.

“Quinn, are you ready?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” I mutter to myself. I check my reflection in the mirror, and I’m pleasantly shocked by what I see. There’s a glow to my cheeks, a little twinkle of light in my eyes. Skirting around our previous interaction, I text Bones.

Me: Heading out with the fam for a drive. I have an appointment.

Might as well test the waters and see how he reacts. At least if he gets mad through text, then I don’t have to respond. Since my divorce, I avoid conflict at every possible opportunity. If I can deal with it through message, then I will. It’s the only way for me to get my words out and make sure they make sense and implications can’t be made. I run down the stairs, grab my coat off the hook and slide it on, conscious of not breathing in too much to do it up and attracting her attention. She rounds the corner. “An answer would be nice.”

“I did answer you. I can't be blamed for the fact that you didn't hear me.” Just as her palm connects with my face, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out as I rub my cheek, trying to soothe the sting.

Bones: No worries, I’ll talk to you later. Text me if you need to, Magpie.

There’s something about that nickname. The way my body responds when he says it and the way sparks shoot straight to my pussy should be illegal. Even my nipples react, which is mind-boggling because they’re about as sensitive as my mother.

Sometimes she looks at me like she wants to tear my head from my shoulders. She's been physical before, but not much. I think I'd rather the physical wounds; they heal easier. The mental ones feel like they're wrapping me in mesh and consistently tightening, robbing me of the ability to breathe.

“Attitude, Quinn, it’s unbecoming.”

“Sorry, Mum.”

Eric appears at the bottom of the stairs, coat and shoes on like he’s going somewhere, too. “Where are you going?” I ask him.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you not to convince them to turn the car around and bring you back home.”

My mother chuckles. “You underestimate me, my dear. I’m counting down the moments until she’s out of my hair.”

“Ditto,” Eric mutters.

“Geez. Way to make a girl feel welcome.” They both ignore me. Standing there and staring at me as if silence will make me move. It does. One of those looks from Eric's eyes sends tremors through my body, and I can never place why. She grabs his hand, and they start to walk out to the car together. “Don’t forget to lock the door, Quinn. I’ll need your key,” she calls to me.

“Why do you need my key? It’s only one appointment to get more information.”

“I lost mine.”

“I’m sure I saw you use it yesterday.”

“Quinn, it’s my house and my front door. If I tell you I need it back, then I need it back. End of story.”

“Ok.” Eric opens the car door for my mother, acting like the gentleman he really isn’t—my dad is already in the driver’s seat—while I lock the door. It’s like the family outing I’ve always wanted but never got. Who knew all I needed to do was agree to have my brain fried? I feel the click of the lock as I turn the key, and something feels off. Like it’s the last time I’ll be locking this door—with this key—as this person.

According to my parents, the medical centre we are going to for the ECT is about a couple of hours away, but other than that, they haven’t given me much information. I settle into the back, careful not to get too close to Eric so as not to contaminate him, and open my Kindle to read my newest dark romance book. I accidentally found the genre a few months ago when I found a free online book event and went through the options. It’s safe to say I’ve had fun testing my limits since then. Who said trauma couldn’t be fun, hey?!

After about thirty minutes, my mum turns around. “Here, Quinn, you’re anxiety tablets.” She hands me a bottle of opened water with two yellow tablets. “I don’t feel anxious. Actually, I feel calm. I don’t need them.” Something flickers across her face.

“The doctor said it was imperative you continued to take your medication as prescribed. This isn’t an as-and-when medication, Quinn.”

“Maybe she doesn’t need it this time, love,” Dad says, speaking up for once. You’d think he was dead, and I lived in a single-parent family with Eric, my brother, as a stepfather, the amount of appearances he makes in my life.

“I’m your wife. You’re supposed to side with me,” she hisses, pulling the wife card silences him every single time. It’s like they have a safe word that only gets used at her convenience.

“No, but the medication is for anxiety, and I’m not anxious.”

“Just take the tablets, Quinn.”