Cara grabs the remote and turns the volume up the still-ongoing porn once more. “If I have to sit here and watch this orgy, do you at least have any weed?” I ask.
“Bottom drawer of my nightstand.” I head to Cara’s room to find her stash.
Neither one of them understand what I’m going through. On the outside, yes, I’m a white girl with a rich family and a perfect life. But I’m more than my parents’ money.
Being a spoiled brat doesn’t explain why I’m so fucked up on the inside.
I sit on Cara’s burgundy duvet and pull a baggy of weed from her nightstand. I pack a bowl and light it, inhaling deeply and allowing the high to infiltrate my senses.
Sitting back against the headboard, I continue to puff without giving a fuck about hotboxing the bedroom or smoking her entire stash. Leaning to the side, I grab my phone from my back pocket and stare at my lock screen.
Never in my life have I felt the desire to stalk a boy on social media. I never cared enough to act like a jealous girlfriend, because I never was one and I never did care.
Until Liam fucking Whitmore.
Why am I so preoccupied with him? What makes him different from anyone else I’ve been with? Is it the forbidden nature of us now that I know he’s my doctor?
Or…if I’m honest with myself, is it more than that? I was obsessed with him before I knew I couldn’t have him again. I was hooked from the first brush of his fingers against mine. But…why?
As the pot seeps into my veins, my thoughts would normally become muddy, but of all days, today they turn crystal clear. As I was being nosy and poking around Liam’s office, there was a picture on his desk of a little girl.
Liam has a daughter.
Six
Flynn
“Flynn, tell me when your aggressive behavior began.” It’s my second therapy session with Dr. Whitmore and he’s acting like a poised professional.
I, however, am ready to scream.
“Cut the shit, Liam. I know.” I lean back on the worn sofa and cross my arms over my chest. His expression gives nothing away as his hazel eyes bore into mine, empty and honest.
“Know what?” He’s the picture of comfort, with his right ankle resting atop his left knee.
“I know you have a daughter and therefore, likely, a wife. You’re a pig.” I stand, strutting over to his desk and grab the picture of the cute, dark-haired little girl. “Why don’t you tell me about that?”
His jaw locks and his eyes go dead. “We’re not here to talk about me.”
“I bet your wife would want to talk about it, if she knew you fucked a twenty-one year old behind her back. How old are you, anyway?” My voice is filled with venom and disgust.
“You didn’t care about my age when you shoved my cock in your mouth, and frankly you never asked if I was married.” My jaw drops at his brazen attitude. He adjusts his tie, tugging on the knot as if to loosen it from choking him.
“That’s because you should be a man about it and at least tell me before I fuck you.” I never claimed to be above fucking married men, but I’d prefer to know about it beforehand. Lies are my hard limit. I may be a bitch, but at least I’m an honest bitch.
“I’m not having this conversation with you here or ever. These sessions are about you, Flynn. Not me and my personal life. If you can’t stick to the terms, then we’ll have to see about finding you another doctor. Frankly, you’re acting like a petulant, jealous child and I thought you were more mature than that.” I lean back as if I’d been slapped.
None of my therapists have ever taken that tone with me before, but the tough love act is what I need. I’ve also never slept with any of my therapists before; maybe that’s affecting things.
I cross my right leg over my left and tug on my top. “Well, I do tend to have some behavioral issues.” That’s putting it lightly. My affinity for sex, drugs, and alcohol has led to a mile long rap sheet of violence and general misbehaving.
I’m embarrassed, feeling like I’ve been chastised, which is not an emotion I’m used to. It makes my skin itchy and uncomfortable. My body heats and the desire to rebel burns strong through my veins. Anything to get out of this feeling.
This is what I’m here to figure out, the root of these urges that lead to my behaviors. But, like Cara and Dani remind me, my life is perfect. There’s no reason for me to continue acting the way I do. I just can’t help it. It’s an unmatched high, but everyone sees me as broken. Why does everyone insist on fixing me?
The rest of the session focused on my first fight at school. I was thirteen and this bitch in my class, Jessica, stole my first boyfriend. That led to me throwing my drink on her at the homecoming dance. Once she was caught off guard, I punched her and broke her nose. Needless to say, it wasn’t an isolated incident.
Liam felt compelled to ask if the hormone changes affecting my body around that time had any impact on my behavior and decision making. What a fun conversation to have with a guy I’d fucked a mere week ago. Considering my fights didn’t start and
