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The doctor gapes at me. “Phoenix, are you—”
“No, I’m not suicidal. I’m not a quitter, Doc. My dad always told me that in life I would be tested and when I thought things couldn’t get any better, I just needed to push through because better days were waiting. I just don’t know why they didn’t listen to their own advice.”
He sits there silently for a moment, taking in what I threw at him. He shifts in his seat and leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “No, you’re not a quitter. And it may feel like you’re alone, but you’re not. There are people who want to see you succeed. Your aunt was concerned enough to make sure I was here to support you. I want to see you graduate and do great things in life. And there will be people in the future you will meet that will have your back.”
“I just don’t get why they left me. I don’t know why the kings have it out for me. Why people at this school are bullies? I don’t know why I’m not worth protecting.” Tears threaten to break through, and I steel my features and push the emotion back down.
“The kings?”
“Some stupid richey rich group that think they are royalty. They seem to have it out for me because I’m the new girl who is from the wrong side of the tracks. I couldn’t give less of a shit about them, but they are hell-bent on pushing me out of here.”
“Have you told the administration about this?”
“No, and it doesn’t matter. I just need to get through this year. And I have tougher skin than they think. If they think they can hurt me any more than I’ve already been hurt in life …” I trail off.
We are both silent for a moment before he breaks it. “You mentioned that both your parents ended their lives, yet you have always been adamant that your dad did not commit suicide. What has changed?”
I shake my head and bite my lip. “I don’t know. What’s the point of fighting that? I may not think it was suicide, but who’s going to care? Who’s going to listen? It’s easier to take it at face value. Police reports say suicide, so that’s what it is. But no matter what it is, they still aren’t here, so does it matter? I’m tired of fighting that fight. It won’t get me anywhere.”
“I want to suggest something that might help.”
I snort. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this. Please, give me your wisdom, doc.”
“Start a journal.”
I tip my head back and laugh. “What am I? In fifth grade? Do I have to write who I have a crush on? Can I put our initials in little hearts all over the cover?”
“Not a diary, Phoenix. A journal. Write whatever you want in it, but focus on your feelings, maybe situations you’ve been put in or people you’ve encountered. Focus on how you feel. Bad, good, however, just write your words. You may not think that would help, but writing might help you make sense of things. Organizing your thoughts or helping you through a situation.”
I raise a brow. “Is this your official remedy, doc?”
“Let’s try it for a couple weeks and see what happens. Can you do that?” he asks.
Slowly, I let out a sigh. “Sure. Why not?”
* * *
Remember that thing about Monday being quiet? It didn’t last long. Tuesday has been anything but quiet. From the moment I step out of the office, I’m bombarded with wonderful messages by my fellow classmates. “Slut” and “whore” are two particular ones that stand out.
All this money for an education, and this is what they use it for. Awesomesauce.
To make matters worse, I’m headed into my accounting and finance class that I have with Daxon. I was berated in front of the class for missing Tuesday, but eventually Mrs. Leaver, our teacher, let me sit. And that was a problem all in itself. Because the last open desk was right next to the one person I don’t want to be anywhere near, Daxon Emerson.
I walk in, and all eyes immediately go to me. I hear murmurs and laughs about my official slut status. Someone even throws an open condom at me. Gross. So, I roll my eyes and make my way back to my seat, next to fuckinghim.
“Suck anyone off on your way to class?” Dax turns towards me, leaning in slightly to encroach on my personal space.
“Why? Jealous you don’t know what a good one actually feels like?” I retort.
“Sweetheart, I get the best blow jobs. And from any girl on campus I want.”
“Huh. That’s interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” He tilts his head to the side and smiles.
“That in reality, you’re actually the slut.” I grin as he drops his.
“Careful, I wouldn't want to make you cry in front of everyone,” he says into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.