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So, I watch her from the sidelines, and protect her in any way that I can. My father gives me the resources I need to do it and doesn’t complain. He is a good man, despite what he does. We can’t help being born to our parents. No one has any control over that. You just make the best of what you are given.
My brother, Anthony, is much better suited to leading than I am, and he’s the oldest anyway. He and my father have a “take no shit” attitude that I respect and they are both fair to those under them. Most of the people who work for us have been there for years, and their children also work for us in some capacity.
I have always been curious and determined, willing to argue for something I believe in. A lawyer in my heart through and through. Protecting my family, and protecting Elodie are both things thatare important to me and I will do it with every breath I have in my body. No matter the consequences.
I know that she wants to be a photographer and I will help her in any way that I can. She got into NYU on a scholarship. What she didn’t know was that even if she didn’t get in, her tuition would’ve been paid by an anonymous source. But she did it, just like I knew she would.
I’ve already spoken to Ms. Bates. I tried to pay her to help Elodie but she turned me down, saying that she doesn’t need money to help Elodie when she knows how talented she already is. I donated the money to her for the camera Elodie uses. For whatever reason, it doesn’t bother her that I try to help Elodie either, which makes me wonder how much she knows about what goes on at her parents’ house.
The visceral anger I feel when I see Elodie pull her hood up to shut the world out shocks me sometimes. I know it’s a coping mechanism. She has panic attacks, too. I’ve seen it happen when she walks home. More than once, I have seen her slide down the nearest brick wall when she can’t breathe. She has these exercises she does when something like that happens. She’s so strong. I know she doesn’t go to therapy so I can only surmise that she’s read a lot to figure out how to calm herself that way.
So, Ms. Bates and I have a secret pact to help Elodie no matter what. Sometimes I think about what Elodie’s life would be like if Bates was her mother. Or really anyone other than the parents she has. She could blossom under the care and support of parents who really love her instead of hiding herself away so that noone notices her.
There will never be anyone else for me. I don’t care what I have to do to get her. I don’t care what I have to do to keep her. She will learn how to not be afraid ever again when she is with me. She can live her life in peace, taking all the photos she wants for the rest of her life. She will be loved, cared for, and pampered—forever. Just gotta get through the next few weeks.
But first, I’m going to put a new plan in place. I’m tired of watching her from the shadows right now, for the next few months, I’m going to become her friend.
CHAPTER 3
ELODIE
Drake Bianchi is watching me from a booth in the back of the diner. He has an odd look on his face. Trying hard to concentrate on filling bottles and wrapping silverware, I avoid eye contact. He makes me nervous. I can’t explain why, but a part of me knows that if I were to ever give in to those feelings, my whole life would change. The anxiety that it gives me is hard to deal with. Obviously, I need a different life, but that terrifies me. My life is already bad enough that I don’t want to riskmaking it worse.
He’s beautiful. Tall, like six foot two or so, blond curly hair, crystalline blue eyes that seem to look right into my soul. Not that I want him to see what’s there. He’s gotten some new tattoos since I saw him last. With his sleeves rolled up I can see them peeking out, wrapping around his arms and up his chest, the top of them visible through the collar of his shirt. Built like a swimmer with wide shoulders and a slim waist. Something about him draws me in like a moth to a flame. Always has.
Taking a few deep breaths, I try to calm myself. The last thing I need is a panic attack today. I had one less than a week ago on the way home from school. Sometimes, just thinking about what I might have to deal with when I get home causes me to have one. My fight or flight clicks into place and the next thing I know, I’m sitting up against a building trying to breathe.
We don’t have any money for therapy, not that my parents would ever do that anyway. They would be too scared they would go to jail with the things I could say about them. Logically, I know I need it. But I could never. The thought of ever having to tell anyone what I’ve been through in my life makes me sick to my stomach.
How do you tell a stranger that your parents beat you, or hurt you in other ways? How do you tell anyone that, knowing that if you do, you could literally lose your life because their dealer is in the mafia? I’m terrified enough of Dominic, their dealer, as it is. If he ever thought I said anything about him, no one would ever find me.
He watches me too, although not the same way that Drake does. When Drake watches me, it feels like a soft caress on my skin. When Dominic watches me, it makes me feel oily and dirty, and in instantneed of a shower. I do my best to avoid going home if his car is in the driveway.
Since I can’t do therapy, I read these books on how to breathe during panic attacks, and how to recognize the symptoms when one is coming on. I’m not great at it. Sometimes it takes me way longer than it should to calm myself. But it’s better than collapsing in the middle of the street in my neighborhood. Shuddering, I can only imagine what would happen if I were to do that and Dominic found me, or some other creeper.
I actually like my job at the diner. The lady who runs it, Reba, looks out for me. She always tells me which tables will give the best tips. It’s become a game she and I play. Not once has she ever asked me about my home life, but sometimes I catch her looking at me in a way that tells me she knows. Maybe she does, I don’t think her life has been easy either. Kindred spirits and all that.
She always makes sure I eat a good meal before I go home though. One day, she came to me and asked me if I had a safe place to keep my tips. I hesitated, but shook my head no. The next day, she took me to the office and handed me a small key, opening the drawer in the bottom of the desk. She showed me a small safe and told me to keep whatever I needed inside, that it was just mine. Tearing up, I opened the safe and also found a small cell phone. Looking at her in confusion she said, “Keep it here or take it with you, it’s up to you, but if you ever need someone, it has my number programmed inside it. Call me, no matter what time or when and I will come.” Thinking of it now, I remember her words clearly…
“I’m not going to ask any questions, because I don’t think you’ll answer anyway. But I recognize that look in your eyes. The one that says you are trapped and looking for a way out. I used to have thatsame look when I was your age. I didn’t have anyone I could turn to, and I couldn’t get away for a long time. You have an option, and I can’t do much, but I can get you away if you need it. You’re a sweet girl Elodie, and whatever is happening, it isn’t your fault,” she said to me.
Shaking my head to rid it of the memories, I feel grateful for Reba. I have an option for help if I need it and I hang onto that feeling. I don’t know if I’ll ever ask for help, but it is nice to know that at least one person out there gives a shit what happens to me besides Ms. Bates.
Someone clears their throat and I look up to see Drake standing in front of me. Looking up at him, I know my eyes are wide as saucers because he has never approached me this way. Sure, we’ve said hi here and there in the halls, and talked every once in a while, at school. But he isn’t someone I would call a friend. I’ve always just admired him from a distance.
“Hey Elodie, do you mind if I sit for a sec?” he asks. Standing there with his hands in his jeans pockets, he looks nervous, shuffling his feet back and forth, like I might say no. Not going to lie, I’m considering it because why? I catch myself slowly nodding at him. Well fuck.
Drake sits down next to me, far enough away that I don’t feel the need to pull away, but still a little too close for my comfort. But he doesn’t speak. Okaaaaaayyyy, what does he want? Just to sit here? This is weird as hell. Feeling my heart start to race, I take a deep breath, and gathering my thoughts, I ask, “Can I help you with something or…?”
“You are probably going to think I’m weird for saying this, but I was just feeling a little antsy and for some reason, I thought sittingby you might calm me a little bit,” he says. “Besides, it’s pretty slow tonight and I thought you might want a little company to pass the time.”
Okay, yeah, that is pretty weird because I’m like the least calm person I know. Which really isn’t saying a lot because I don’t know that many people. “Um, okay,” I say slowly. I feel my hands get sweaty. Now is not the time for a panic attack Elodie. Trying to pep talk myself, I quietly breathe in my nose, and out through my mouth as I wipe my hands on my pants.
“You okay?” he asks. His eyes search my face as if he is looking for the answer. Nodding, I continue to breathe until I feel calm.
“I have panic attacks sometimes. So, it’s a little weird that you feel like it’s calm over here when it really isn’t,” I say with a soft laugh.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry, Elodie. I know we don’t really know each other that well, but in a weird way I feel sorta drawn to you. I want to be friends, if you’d want to,” he says.
