Annabella's Oblivion (Hard World Tour #1) (7 page)

I had a brilliant plan; I’d thought about it all night and day. I’d contacted some of the best people in the profession and made them sign non-disclosure papers. The plan was perfect for her.

She would suffer. And as much as it would kill me to watch her in pain, I knew the end result was worth it.

Annabella

The pain was so strong I cried out, but knew no one would come looking for me. I felt hot all over and was thirsty all the time, but I didn’t crave water. I wanted the dose; it would make it all go away.

“
Let me out of here!” I shouted, wanting to destroy something. But there was nothing to break near me, so I grabbed the bedsheet, which was soaked with my sweat. I smelled bad and hadn’t showered in days, but I didn’t care. What they made me go through was torture, and nothing helped. I felt pressure in my throat and quickly grabbed the bin and vomited, even though there wasn’t much to come up because I refused to eat. I felt so sick and tired, and knew there was no escape from this Hell.

I grabbed tissues, flushed my mouth with water, and leaned back on the covers, breathing hard. It had happened for a week now, and I couldn’t stand it. I had a sick feeling this would make me die anyway. I rarely looked in the mirrors, but when I did, usually in the bathroom, there was the reflection of a ghost looking back at me. My hair was lifeless and half of it had fallen out. My eyes were bleak, my skin was pale. I was skinny to the extent of not having breasts, and was able to count every rib. My voice was scratchy from all the screaming, and I sometimes wondered if I’d ever be able to sing again. No one talked with me; they didn’t care, and there were no visits.

I just wanted this thing to be over.

Still, even with all this pain and the fall-out from my decisions, I didn’t regret taking the drugs. As much as the physical pain hurt, it was nothing compared to not seeing Nicky every night before I went to sleep.

How fucked-up did that make me?

I didn’t even bother screaming anymore; it just made my throat hurt. And at the rate I was going, I was afraid I would lose the ability to speak, let alone sing.

I quietly handled the rumble of my stomach and the deep ache in my bones. Staring at the ceiling, I wondered how much longer this would go on. When would the whole detox period end? It’d been two weeks, and even though they now managed to put some food in me, I couldn’t make myself care. It was punishment, in a way, and I took it with gusto. Withdrawal ended, but my body had no strength.

The nurses and doctors never spoke a word to me or in front of me. I struggled in the beginning, not wanting them to fix me, but I had no strength left to fight.

Still, I didn’t regret shit.

I just wanted to see Nicky again, and probably if it continued longer, I would be able to.

In death.

Oddly enough, the idea seemed appealing to me.

Even if they cured my body from its addiction, how the hell could they cure my mind?

“
Come on, Bella, don’t cry. They’ll hear you.” Nicky gently wiped the tears from my cheeks, and I looked down, ashamed. I didn’t want to worry him, but what those kids had said hurt.

I looked back at the smirking kids in the cafeteria and then turned my eyes to the floor.

“
I’m sorry, Nicky.” Whispering those words probably didn’t make anything better. I fingered my dress, which was worn out, one size too small, years old, and had a few patches covering the holes. They had made fun of it and told me to get lost because there was no place in our school for trashy people like us. Then they pushed me down, when all I wanted to do was eat something during lunch. It was the highlight of my day. Well, mine and Nicky’s because the school cafeteria had everything and it was the only time we could eat something and be satisfied.

“
Baby girl, you don’t need to apologize. I will fix it, I promise.” He hugged me and I breathed in his warm smell; it calmed me. When Nicky was near, I knew no one would dare touch me. They were afraid to, because he was strong and a star football player. He wasn’t popular, but they had to deal with him because he was one of the biggest athletes in school.

“
How can you? They are right. I’m trash.” That’s why it hurt so much. Our parents drank all the time, and sometimes, looking at them made me sick. I didn’t want to become like them, but what if sometimes you had no choice in what you become?

Nicky took my head into his hands and forced me to look up. I stared into his deep violet eyes, which held so much pain and love, just like mine.

“
Baby girl, you’re you, not trash. You are special. Always remember that.” I tried to smile, but what he was saying was hard to believe when everything pointed to the opposite.

But wasn’t Nick the only one whose opinion mattered in this world?

I woke up from the dream to the bright morning sunlight, which hurt my eyes. The dream, or rather the memory, was so vivid, it could have happened yesterday.

Indeed, after the incident, no one made fun of me anymore. I didn’t know what he did, but it must have been something extreme because those kids were mean as fuck and had a lot of connections in school. I shifted slowly in the bed and blinked because I realized it was the first time that I had actually slept through the night in a while and hadn’t woken up from the discomfort.

It had been a month since I arrived here, and the vomiting had stopped two weeks ago. I just had the burning and addictive feeling of wanting something—cravings—but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be.

I felt sticky and desperately wanted to take a shower, which was a new feeling as well.

I had a thought that maybe it was because I saw him in my dreams, and it had seemed almost like a drug dose to me. That thought was scary though, and I preferred to move past it.

I pressed the button---something I rarely did---and the nurse came in. She was in her late twenties and had this stern expression on her face every time she looked at me. She probably had a problem with me---not like I gave a fuck. I owed her nothing.

“
Yes?” Her voice was slightly annoyed as she raised an eyebrow and winced while covering her nose from the smell. The room wasn’t cleaned up for some reason, and I wasn’t sure what kind of services this Nathaniel guy offered, but if my experience was anything to go by, it sucked big time.

“
I want to take a shower, and can someone be sent in to clean up my room?” Feeling like shit already, I wanted at least to have nice smelling environment.

“
You’ll have to do it yourself.” She must be fucking kidding me!

I was hardly staying here out of charity, so for the service they could damn well clean the whole mess. I had no idea—was it a service or a one-time thing? But since he had all those people working for him, it must mean he had done it before, right?

This whole rehabilitation center seemed like such shit. I never went outside the room—or made it off the bed, for that matter—but sometimes at night I heard horses neighing or owls hooting.

“
Why? You must have people who clean here.” Her expression gave nothing away, but she licked her lips, which were covered in red lipstick.

“
We do. But Mr. Jackson told us you had to do it on your own.” Her voice was distant.

“
Like everything else, apparently.” This guy was a serious pain in the ass, and this woman seemed too cocky for her own good. The only reason she probably had the position was that she was most likely screwing the damned boss.

I was trash for taking drugs, but it was okay for him to fuck his employee?

Those double-standard fuckers. Sometimes I wished I was into girls.

I kid you not.

“
Fine,” I replied, moved to the shower and noticed there were things I liked to use, like chamomile soap and various products for my face. Even some makeup. And I knew for a fact it wasn’t there in the very beginning.

I’d had to pee during the past month, so it wasn’t like I’d never been to the bathroom before.

“
What’s this?” She came closer and looked in the direction I was pointing.

“
Your friends left it here.” My heart stopped for a second.

“
My friends?” Didn’t Nathaniel say I wasn’t allowed to meet anyone?

“
Yeah, the rest of your band. The redhead and the weird one. They came while you slept and left those and some clothes in the closet for you.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat because I knew what that gesture meant.

They hadn’t given up on me; they’d come here.

Well, not Sam. I knew she would never forgive me. But I took some comfort in knowing there were people on my side.

Even if I didn’t deserve it.

“
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your brother.” That stopped my movements, and I looked at her while she tried to ignore me. Why was she being kind? She’d been a total bitch just a minute ago, and to say I was confused was an understatement.

“
Thanks.” The moment was awkward for me, but it was something I had to do.

I took off my clothes, and since I wasn’t able to lock the door because she had to be able to enter at any time, I didn’t feel exactly modest. I looked in the mirror and winced.

I was a sorry version of myself and couldn’t handle it, but I had to see it. I studied the changes my body had undergone. I didn’t even recognize myself. My fingers softly touched the tattoo above my heart, which had mine and Nick’s initials entwined together in a Celtic knot. I covered it with my hand and for a second, closed my eyes. It looked like some bright spot on my body now and didn’t fit with the rest of me.

The consequences of my decisions, the ones I had made and still didn’t regret. . . I think I had reached an extraordinary level of fuck-up.

I put my filthy clothes in the basket near the bath and turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up.

Finally, I was able to go inside, groaning when the hot water touched my body. I had forgotten how much I loved it. In all those months, I’d rarely taken a shower, and when I did, it was fast, something I wanted to be done with. I soaped myself up and scrubbed my skin. It was slightly painful, but it was okay. It made me feel, after all. Once I was done, I washed my hair. The water dripping from it was dirty, and made dark puddles around my feet. After thirty minutes in the shower, I felt slightly more human again.

I went back to the room, where Blondie was still waiting for me. She was looking at her phone, and I just couldn’t stand the whole mess.

“
So, can you bring me the cleaning supplies?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Maybe she didn’t expect me to know how to clean, and boy, was she wrong. Our parents were messy my whole life, leaving Nick and I to pick up their shit. Not to mention, I took various shifts working in diners and fast food places. I knew the meaning of hard work, and having millions hadn’t changed that.

“
I’m going to tell Marie to bring them to you now.”

“
Marie?”

“
Yeah, she runs things around here.” She shuddered a little, as though she didn’t like the lady.