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…But I’m not.I’m right here, in Hell. The pinch of pain as my toes cramp and then release helps me to ground myself even just a little bit. Even as I repeat in my head‘it’s not real, Lennon, baby girl it’s not real,’tears run hot and fast down my face. It’s probably for the best, because they have to be watching how I react to this new stimulus.
I’m not going to lie: it hurts. I miss my sister, and hearing her voice makes the pain worse. Xav probably wants me to think I’ve been forgotten about, but I know I haven’t. The blonde haired, beautiful man from last night that Xav called Mr… Kingston? Yeah… Kingston. I’m going to trust him right now, because I have absolutely nothing else to hang onto.
So much happened yesterday, my lungs begging for air as he wrapped the plastic over my face and Xav repeatedly told me all the reasons I wasn’t worthy of love. Breathing deeply, I open my eyes as the room spins, and realize I was holding my breath as I remembered everything.
So dumb. Air is a precious commodity in this place. Sometimes I have to earn it, even though everyone else gets to breathe it without a care in the world. You never know the things you’ll miss until it’s gone.
Allowing myself to zone out as I let thought after thought from yesterday distract me from my sister’s voice. Some may think I’m a masochist, but I’m sure I’m forgetting something important. I just need to remember…
As the sound cuts out, and Collymore opens the door to my cell, I realize I didn’t get shocked by Xav yesterday. Why?
I remember Kingston pulled the sheeting especially tight the last round, which caused me to pass out. Was that on purpose? I suddenly wish I knew his name, but Kingston will have to do for now.
“Did you have a good night?” Collymore asks like the asshole he is. I don’t bother responding, because based on how exhausted I feel, I didn’t sleep much. Collymore rolls his eyes, muttering, “You’re probably higher than a kite right now, which is probably for the best.”
The staff usually keeps notes about what medication I’m on so they don’t accidentally kill me. However, because Kingston stepped in to help, they have no idea what I may be on. This is the first day in ages that my mind is clear, and while my brain hurts from the overload of information that I’m sifting through… it’s also a nice change of pace.
Collymore walks me out into the hallway, pulling me in front of him as he shuts the door to my cell tightly. “What are you wearing? Are you a nurse or an orderly now?” he sneers.
I shrug, pretending I’m unable to speak. This isn’t the first time my tongue has been so thick or my brain too foggy to carry on a conversation, so he doesn’t comment on it.
Sighing, he picks up my hair, which dried naturally last night and curls around me. “At least there’s no blood or puke in it, so that’s a blessing. I don’t get paid enough to deal with most of the shit I have to do here.”
I rarely hear grumbling from the people who work here about not liking their jobs, probably because their boss is so damn scary. As Collymore grabs my arm and pulls me down the hallway, I tuck that piece of information away. Maybe I’ll be able to use it at some point. I am more determined than ever to get out of here, even though I have no idea how.
Sometimes being strong is just surviving until an opportunity presents itself.
Collymore pulls me into an office that’s just as stark as the rest of this section of the hospital. Xav purses his lips in disgust as he takes in my appearance.
“What the fuck is she wearing?” he asks, ignoring me completely as an entity who can speak.
Colly shrugs. “This is how I found her, Sir. I don’t know who was on night duties because I wasn’t here yesterday.”
Xav makes a face as he remembers Kingston was dumped with the responsibility of getting me ready for the night and shrugs. “I’ll make a point of reminding whoever dressed her last night of proper attire,” he lies.
Xav fists his hands before releasing them, and I realize he does this when he’s stressed. I’ll need to pay attention to when else he does this too. Whatever is going on right now is making him twitchy and I want to know what it is and how it concerns me.
“Today, we are letting go of the past, Miss Lennon,” Xav tells me, grabbing my face and pulling my chin up to meet his glacial gaze. The man has several inches of height on me, and enjoys using it against me.
“What did you think of the music you woke up to this morning?”
The hours tend to melt into each other because I rarely see the sky or time here. Swallowing, I respond, “I think my sister sounded beautiful. Is that what you mean?”
I’m being purposefully obtuse and I know it. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of my tears or sorrow. I’m glad she’s safe, away from Xav’s influence, and touring takes her far away from Kentucky. Being on the road didn’t keep me safe, but I can only hope Layla isn’t their target.
The day I disappeared from the stadium after I finished performing is still so fuzzy, but I can’t focus on that right now. Xav is a fucking viper, and I can’t look away for a moment.What the fuck is he planning to torture me with today?
“You don’t have any other thoughts about her taking over your tour? Shouldn’t you be there instead?” he continues to poke.
God, I wish I could end this man. If the angels smile on me, maybe I’ll be able to one day. My thoughts are darker than they ever have been, but I don’t have the energy to censor them from myself. If I can’t be honest with myself, then what’s the point?
“I certainly can’t be there. I can’t even take care of myself, and growing up in the music industry the last few years I’ve learned the show must go on. I love to sing, but why be sad about things outside of my control,” I tell him evenly and calmly. My insides are screaming, a cacophony of words that beg to be written, but bouncing too fast for me to hold on to.
“Hmm. Well, as I said, today we are going to say goodbye to the past. Your hair is part of the past, and therefore it has to go—” the rest of the words Xav may have been saying to me drift away.
I feel like I’m being held underwater, and I can’t breathe. I can’t focus as I wheeze for air that my lungs won’t process. Without my hair, I’m not Turner’s Lavender. I already smell like chemicals and hospital…
“No!” I scream, finding my voice. “You can’t,” I sob, struggling to jerk my face away from him.
