Page 155

DOUBLING DOWN AND DIGGING IN HEELS

Lizzie

OCTOBER 17, 2003

“W E NEED TO TALK” WERE THE FIRST WORDS H UGH SAID WHEN HE FOLLOWED ME INTO his downstairs bathroom as soon as we got off the bus.

“Uh, I’m literally peeing,” I reminded him from my perch on the toilet seat. “Can it wait?”

“No, it can’t,” he snapped, giving me his back. “So, hurry up.”

Jesus .

He sounded furious.

Hurrying up my business, I quickly readjusted my clothes and flushed the toilet before moving to wash my hands in the sink.

“Okay, I’m finished,” I announced. “What do we need to talk about?”

“Not here,” he replied, turning around to look at me. “My room.” And then, before I had a chance to respond, he grabbed my hand and practically dragged me upstairs with him.

“Okay, now can you tell me what’s wrong?” I demanded when he slammed his bedroom door shut behind us. “Hugh?”

“I knew it,” he spat, pacing his bedroom floor like a madman. “I fucking knew it, Liz.”

“Would you care to inform me what you know?” I snapped back, hands planted on my hips. “And why you’re so pissed with me?”

“You’re cutting again,” he bit out. “When you fucking promised me, you had stopped.”

“I have stopped,” I shouted back. “The scars on my wrists are old, Hugh.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” My boyfriend swung around to glare at me. “Do you think I can’t tell when you’re hiding something from me?”

“I’m not!” I hissed, feeling my temper rise right along with his. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Come here,” he said then, moving for his bed and taking a seat on the edge. “Come here, Liz.” He patted the mattress beside him, still looking furious. “I want to show you something.”

Begrudgingly, I stomped over to where he was sitting and plopped down beside him. “What?”

He grabbed the hem of my school skirt and asked, “May I?”

“Yeah, fine,” I tossed back angrily. “Do whatever.”

Inhaling a deep breath, he peeled the fabric of my skirt up to reveal the apex of my thighs. To reveal the recently healed lesions on my skin. The ones I inflicted on myself in the bath last night.

Aw, crap .

Hugh expelled a frustrated breath and readjusted my skirt back into place. “I noticed when you got on the bus.” He turned to glare at me. “ Now tell me you aren’t cutting again.”

My mind went completely blank, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response.

Because I forgot.

Because I lied.

Because I broke my promise.

“But that’s not all you’ve been hiding from me, is it?” Standing up, he strode over to his desk and grabbed my schoolbag. Returning to my side, he thrust my bag on my lap before instructing me to “take them out.”

Panic filled me.

I was staying at his place for the weekend, and he knew that meant Mam packed my entire prescription. “Hugh.”

“Take them out, Liz,” he repeated sternly. “Take them out right now, or I’m taking you home and we’re talking to your parents.”

“No, no, no, please don’t do that.”

“Then take them out.”

A deep shudder of revulsion washed over me, and I quietly did as he asked.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered when I handed over the bottle. “I thought it would be okay.”

Hugh didn’t respond.

Instead, he unscrewed the lid on my pill bottle and tipped the entire contents into one hand.

Full of shame, I waited in silence as he counted every pill before popping them back into the bottle. “How long have you been off your meds?”

“Just a few weeks,” I squeezed out, feeling my eyes water. “When they changed the dose, it made my brain feel foggy and sluggish, so I just—”

“You just decided to come off them without medical observation again and to hell with the consequences again ,” Hugh deadpanned.

My tears spilled over, and I tried to plead my case. “You don’t understand how they make me feel.”

“I understand what happens when you don’t take them,” he snapped, emotions rising right along with his voice. “I understand the last time you did this, you almost died .” His eyes filled with tears and his chest heaved as he continued to shout, “I had to cut you down from a makeshift noose, Liz! You spent six weeks in a goddamn hospital bed. Why would you even think about coming off your meds again?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I strangled out, quickly moving for him. “I don’t know what I was thinking or if I was even thinking to begin with. I just…I just…”

“You just what , Liz?” he demanded, looking broken. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“I didn’t think,” I choked out, feeling too much right now. “That’s the point.”

“I’m not going through this with you every time you decide you’re cured,” he warned, shaking his head. “There’s no cure, Liz, but there is treatment, so let yourself be fucking treated!”

“I just wanted to be normal, okay!” I screamed, tears flowing freely down my face. “I just wanted a fucking shot at being like every other person our age who doesn’t have to ram pill after fucking pill down their throat in order to function!” Feeling myself slip, I fisted my hair and tugged, needing the physical anguish to distract my mind from the very real meltdown brewing. “I don’t want to live my life like this. A fucking guinea pig for psychiatrists to try different treatments on.”

“Liz, come here.” Hugh tried to coax me, moving for me with his arms extended. “It’s okay, baby, we’ll handle this.”

“No, no, no—don’t do that.” I shook my head and backed away from him. “Don’t hold me when you’re mad at me, Hugh, because I know it’ll be out of pity!”

“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” he snapped, closing the space between us and roughly pulling me into his arms. “Because I’m never not going to hold you, Liz.”