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Why would he have notes on this game? His journal was packed with research, some of which was in Latin.
He believes too.
I need to take another look at his journal.
We finish out the game and laugh over a few more drinks before Liam and I head back to our room. It’s well past midnight and he keeps checking his phone with a grimace.
I ask him what’s wrong twice but he doesn’t answer either time, so I drop it.
I’ll ask him tomorrow.
11
Wynn
The first weekhasn’t been so bad.
James texts me regularly, making sure I’m taking my meds and keeping up with all the therapy and recommendations from the counselors. I’ve been telling him everything is fine. Routine, yes, but fine.
Manageable, I remind myself.
The sleep medication has been helping a great deal. I stay asleep all night and wake up well-rested in the morning. Liam hasn’t woken me up again since the first night. From the small glimpses I get of him getting dressed in the mornings, he doesn’t have any new cuts, so hopefully that means he isn’t still sneaking out.
Avoiding the men’s showering schedules has been another story.
I am not ashamed of my body. No. In fact, I think I look pretty good. But I hate people looking at me.
Early morning is the only time I can get the bathroom to myself (and a few other early-bird women). I woke up late on Wednesday and had to shower at nine.
Never. Again.
The men had something new to look at and every stall was full. Some people were fucking, others were singing nonchalantly and enjoying their shower, while I was like a deer in the headlights trying to get in and out as fast as I could.
Thank God Liam wasn’t in there.
On the way out, I bumped into Lanston, and the deep red of his cheeks told me he’d probably seen every inch of me.
Manageable.
The sessions are already getting easier to sit through. I have the same schedule every day, except Tuesdays, when I meet with Dr. Prestin after the morning workout. I still haven’t played the piano during the music session. Neither has Liam, who I was surprised to see in there with me. We just take turns sitting at the piano as Jericho calls us up.
It’s surprisingly easy to fall in line and go with the flow. Without external forces like a social life, work, family, and pressure from myself to do better, I’m finding that life here isn’t so bad.
The few people that I call my friends are as sick as I am, and I’ve never felt like I’ve belonged somewhere more.
“What are your plans this weekend?” Yelina grabs the pink polish and spreads a fresh coat on her fingernails. I settle for a nude beige. My room already stinks of nail-polish fumes and I even cracked the window before we started. Liam’s going to throw a fit—I just know it.
“I don’t have any plans.”
She sets down the bottle and gives me a once-over. “Really? You’re not doing something with Liam?” She seems more annoyed on my behalf than jealous. It’s been hard for her to accept that I’m his roommate, but I’ve assured her that we don’t get along.
“Are you really surprised? He hardly talks to me, and when we do talk, we’re either arguing or talking about how much we dislike each other.” I sigh, finishing the coat on my thumb before blowing on it so it dries faster.
Yelina looks down and deflates a bit. “Well, at least he talks to you. He won’t even look at me.” She pouts, drawing skulls on her nails with white paint now.
Liam’s always looking at me, watching me constantly when we’re in the same room. I can’t seem to escape his icy gaze.
“So, what do you do on the weekends?” I change the subject.
