The only problem is, I didn’t figure it out until later that Haydon made it all up. No one was talking about me. He told me that to alienate me from everyone. To make me more vulnerable so I’d need him.
I hate that he made me weak. Even now, I question everything I do. It’s hard to trust, although being at the institute I’ve let PJ, Ky, and Rhett get closer to me. The thing is, I did have a warning about Haydon. But I ignored. It’s funny how much clearer things are now. Now that he’s not in my head, telling me what to think, who to talk to.
As I walk to Algebra, my cell goes off in my pocket. I take it out and notice someone has messaged me. It’s not a number I recognize. But I open it anyway.
You don’t know me, but I want to warn you about Haydon. He really fucked me up. He convinced me I was worthless, and I tried killing myself. He’s no good for you. You should leave him before it’s too late. Before he makes you crazy.
My mouth goes dry. Who the heck is this person? I study the picture of the dark-haired girl on my screen. She’s pretty. Maybe she’s trying to scare me away from Haydon because she wants him.
When Haydon and I meet up for lunch, I ask him about her. He tells me she’s his psycho ex. That she won’t quit stalking him. He says I need to ignore her.
So, I delete the message.
If I’d taken Celeste’s warning, I might not have ended up where I did. Because the truth is, Haydon did fuck her up. He made her want to kill herself. He convinced her she was better off dead.
As our relationship progressed, so did Haydon’s outbursts. He didn’t like me hanging out with other guys, if I did, he’d hurt me. Sometimes physically, other times by yelling at me or threatening to break up with me.
According to him, he could have any other girl, but he chose me.
My lights are off in my room, Mom and Dad went to bed a long time ago. My phone glows as Haydon sends me another message. I’m exhausted from all his late-night talks. The cutting sessions. The pictures we send one another to prove how much we love each other.
I stare at his words.
Sneak out and see me tonight. I miss you.
With a sigh, I type: Sorry, I can’t. If my parents catch me, I’ll be grounded for life.
But I need you. If you don’t come to me, I’ll kill myself. I can’t live without you.
Panic grips me. No. Don’t do that. Please. Haydon.
He doesn’t answer.
Haydon. Answer me. Please.
Oh God. What if he’s really done it?
Haydon doesn’t message me back until about four in the morning, after I spent all night crying and freaking out that he’d actually done it. But this is another way for him to control me. To prove he’s in charge. To show I need him.
When I get to school, I race to his locker. He’s waiting, knowing I’ll be here.
“You scared me last night,” I say.
“And you hurt me. Don’t you know how much I love you? That I can’t live without you?” He twists my arm behind my back until I squeal in pain. “Promise me you won’t do that again? Promise you won’t hurt me?” He twists harder.
Tears well in my eyes. I nod. “I-I won’t.”
“Now kiss me,” he demands.
His lips are on mine, bruising my mouth from the force. I don’t like this. I want him to stop but am too freaked out to tell him.
He walks me to Bio, then heads to his own class. When I sit down, Shannon approaches me.
“I know you’re mad at me, and I’m not sure why, but I’m worried about you. Haydon isn’t who he seems to be.” Shannon frowns, setting her textbook on her desk. “I saw him with another girl last night; they were kissing in the park.”
My fingers tighten at my sides. “You’re lying.”
“No. I’m not. Ellie, we’ve been friends forever, I’m trying to watch out for you. But lately, you don’t return my calls; you don’t message me back … you’ve changed. Haydon’s changed you.”
I push around her and sit down. God, she acts like I’m stupid. She hates Haydon, and she’s trying to ruin us. The teacher moves to the front of the room, keeping Shannon from saying anything else to me.
When class finishes, I rush out the door. As soon as Haydon sees me, he stops me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you have another girl on the side?” I ask.
His gaze darkens. “No. Why? Who told you that?”
“Shannon said she saw you in the park with someone else.” My stomach clenches and I try to ignore the bile burning the back of my throat. Maybe she’s telling me the truth. Haydon has so many up and down moments. He’s not exactly nice all the time.
Yet, I don’t want to believe it. Because if I do, it means I made another shitty choice in a guy. It means I don’t have anyone who truly understands me.
It’ll mean I’m alone.
That’s how he wanted me, though. Alone. I still have a hard time thinking about how stupid I was back then. How I missed all the signs. I’m stronger now. Imagining how his hands roamed over me sickens me. The way his mood swings determined what I kind of day I’d have. If he was happy, he’d be fine, or mostly fine. But if I did something he didn’t like, I’d pay.
This is enough for tonight. I’ve faced more than I thought I could in my last two entries. The part that broke me is still to come. I’ll prepare to face it, even though I want to run. But tomorrow, when it’s light out again. Not now, when the darkness looms just outside the window.
Tomorrow, I’ll have my last battle with Haydon Barber.
Chapter Twenty-Six
PJ and I lay next to each other on my bed coloring. She peers at me and then pushes to a sitting position.
“Ellie, I have question for you, and there’s no lying, why were you up late last night crying?”
I pause, running my thumb along the picture of a knight I’m working on. “Just some bad memories.”
PJ shivers. “I have some too. Maybe you can make lots more knights for us to hang up around the room to protect us. My thoughts are getting worse. Nothing is helping. Not the medicine, not talking to Doctor Angel.” She drops her rhyming again, as her voice grows somber. She scoots closer to me, then leans in to whisper, “Two demons followed us into breakfast this morning. They were crawling on the ceiling, trying to catch us. I-I didn’t want to scare you.”
I swallow hard. Should I tell Angel about this? Does she know PJ is relapsing? “Thank you for trying to look out for me, but from now on you can tell me about them. That way we can fight them together if we need to.”
She smiles. “We’re like sisters, right? We always protect one another.”
“Yes.” I finish coloring my page, then climb from the bed. “Why don’t we go to the commons for a while? Get out of here?”
PJ stands next to me. “Okay.”
When we get to the main area, I see Rhett sitting at a table drawing. As we approach, he glances up and waves us over.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I say, sitting across from him.
“Working on another art piece.” He holds up a picture of a Manga type character, holding a sword.
Damn, he’s really good. Even with crayons. “Maybe you should start a portfolio entitled: Art From the Institute.”
He laughs. “Catchy, but no. I’ll wait until I get out of here to do anything like that. And speaking of getting out of here, Doc Angel met with my dad today.”
“Bet that was a fucking picnic in the park.” I snort.
He taps his crayon on his notepad. “Yeah, just about. If by picnic you mean bitch fest. He pretty much told her that he didn’t make me this way, that I had a problem with authority, so I lashed out. When she tried bringing up my brother, Dad got pissed and stormed out of the session.”
I cringe. “Maybe you, PJ, and I should move in together and say screw our parents.”
He runs a hand through his shaggy hair. “I’d be fine with that.”
Sitting here with Rhett and PJ I feel stronger. Last ni
ght took a lot out of me, but I will beat back the horrors inside if it’s the last thing I do. I’m so close to ending this. To putting Haydon behind me for good. I may carry the scars of the nightmare on my arms and legs, but they’re a testament to what I survived.
I can relive it one more time, if for nothing more than to be able to put it behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
D.B. List Number 6: Haydon Barber
The final part of my nightmare is finally before me. I stare at the blank page for long minutes. I want to end it, but at the same time, I’m not in a hurry to dive into it. So, I think of Shannon instead. God, I miss her. She attempted so many times to reach out to me. She’d even contacted my parents at one point to tell them I cut. Mom, of course, thought Shannon lied. She assumed Shannon was mad at me because I no longer hung out with her, and that she was trying to ruin things for me.
Mom can be so obtuse. I wish Mom would’ve listened to her. Got me help earlier.
As I come off the field after my soccer game, Haydon is waiting for me. His mouth is twisted down in a frown. He’s mad at me. Again. I tremble, wanting to avoid him, but he snags hold of my jersey, yanking me after him.
“Why were you talking to John Anders today? I saw the way he looked at you.”
“We’re friends. Nothing more.” I hate when he’s jealous. But he wouldn’t get so mad if he didn’t love me, right? Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
“You better be. Because you’re mine, Ellie. No one else can have you. Do you hear me? No one else can have you.” He slams me against the side of the building.
My head rings with pain. But I nod my understanding.
Those few words should’ve been a trigger. They should’ve made me pay closer attention. Yet, they didn’t. Every excuse he gave me, I believed. Anger floods me, rushing through my veins like a river. I never want to be so gullible again. So vulnerable.
After school, I sit at my desk trying to focus on homework. Instead, I scroll through my Pic Page site. A recent photo catches my eye. It’s of Haydon, kissing some blond girl from school. My chest tightens as I check the date. Last night. He fucking kissed her last night.
He said he loved me.
He told me I’m his.
I swipe my phone over to text, and my fingers fly over the screen.
You cheated on me! You fucking kissed another girl. We’re over. Tomorrow I’m getting my stuff from your locker, and that’s it. Don’t ever come near me again.
Ellie. NO. Don’t do this. It’s not what you think; I love you. Don’t break up with me. Haydon types back.
I set my phone down and move away from it. I’m not answering him tonight. Crying, I curl up on my bed, listening to my cell beep as new messages come in. They’re from him, I know it. He’s frantic. But I’m done.
After a while, I grab my home phone and call Shannon. When she answers, I cry. I apologize for everything. I tell her how stupid I am for choosing Haydon over her.
“It’s fine. We’re good, Ellie. I’m just glad you’re okay. You scared the shit out of me for a while.”
I half-laugh, half-cry. “I scared me too.”
“Tomorrow we can sit in the library, away from him,” Shannon says. “And if he keeps bothering you, we can talk to the counselor or something.”
“Okay.” I love how she’s got my back. She always has.
When we hang up, I feel a little better. I pick up my cell once more and see all the messages from Haydon.
Answer me, or I’ll kill myself. I mean it this time.
I don’t want to fall into this again. So, I ignore him.
Then another text pops up. This is your fault. Everyone will know it’s your fault. Bye, Ellie.
A picture shows up on the screen.
I cover my mouth. There’s so much blood. He slit his wrists. Fuck. No. This isn’t happening. I didn’t think he’d do it.
I don’t want this on my conscience; I couldn’t live with it.
I dial 911 …
About an hour later, the cops showed up to talk to me. Haydon had left a note, naming me. Telling everyone it was my fault he did it.
“How do you know Haydon Barber?” the cop asks.
I sniffle. “He’s my ex-boyfriend. We recently broke up. And he wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept texting me … I-is he okay?” We might’ve broken up, but I don’t want him to be dead.
The cop nods. “He went to the hospital tonight, but he’ll be fine. He needs a lot of help. More than you can give him.”
“My daughter had nothing to do with this,” Mom says, bringing out her attorney tone of voice. “The boy’s obviously mentally ill.”
“That’s what we’ve gathered from talking to him and his mom. I’d suggest your daughter stay away from him, though, for her sake.”
“I will,” I whisper.
When the officer leaves, I go back to my room. My Pic Page is filling with comments. I open the site and go still.
There, staring back at me is a photo of Haydon Barber, posted by the blond girl he’d been messing with.
It read: Tonight, Haydon tried to kill himself because of Ellie Gebhardt. She’s a slutty bitch, who should die instead.
More comments follow. Some people are telling me to go fuck myself. Others are calling me a piece of shit, who should off herself. On and on they went.
I log out and go to bed, sobbing. How am I the bad guy here? How is everyone mad at me for trying to break up with an abusive asshole?
The next morning Shannon and I ride together to school. As soon as I enter the building, the whispers start.
“I heard Haydon almost died because of you,” Nila James says, cornering me near my locker. “I can’t believe you showed your face today. No one likes you. In fact, everyone wishes you’d go kill yourself.”
All day students I’ve never even talked to say shit to me. Finally, I can’t take it anymore and leave early.
When I get home, the house is empty. Dark thoughts swirl through my head. Maybe it is my fault. Maybe I don’t deserve to live. Then I notice another photo on my wall on Pic Page. It’s of a dead girl. Someone captioned it: I wish Ellie Gebhardt would die.
A sob rakes through me. My fingers tangle in my hair. They’re right. I’m no good. My parents never think I’m good enough. It’s my fault Haydon almost died. It’s my fault Grandpa got killed in the accident. No one wants me.
I’m so alone.
I go to the bathroom, turn on the faucet, and strip my clothes off. My fingers shake as I reach for the blade in my medicine cabinet. The one that’s already left its mark on my arms and legs. I climb into the hot water and lay back. Then I draw the blade across my wrists, this time deeper than I’ve ever cut before. A cut, I know will kill me.
Maybe now I won’t feel the pain. The loneliness. I’ll escape the darkness that seems to follow me. Everyone will be happier with me gone.
My lids drift shut …
Someone’s shouting …
Alex.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A weight lifts from my shoulders as I cry into my hands. My body quakes, I’ve held this in for so long. Haydon had been my downfall. And the sad thing is, I’m not the only girl he screwed up like this. There were a few before me, and there will be more after me. He’s an expert at what he does.
Not that I blame him for every part of what’s happened to me. I’m the one who made the cuts. I gave into the darkness. I’m sure some of the darkness and madness was there before he came along, he just amplified it.
A soft knock sounds on the side of my doorjamb, and Doc Angel pokes her head in. “Ellie, I wondered if we could talk?”
“Sure,” I say. My palms wipe at my eyes as I slip from my bed. Before I go, I grab my notebooks.
When we get to her office, Doc Angel takes my notebooks from me then sits at her desk, while I sink back into the sofa. After about fifteen minutes she finishes reading the rest of the entries. She sets them down.
“Ellie, none
of this is your fault. You can’t control other people’s actions. Haydon’s a narcissistic boy. He feeds off controlling others and isolating them.” She shoves her glasses on top of her head, and then comes to sit by me. “How do you feel now that you’ve had the chance to share all this?”
My gaze meets her. “Better. Like something’s been lifted …”
She smiles and pats my arm. “That’s how it should feel. Now that you’ve been able to get things out in the open, you can start the healing process. You just needed to see that you’re strong enough to overcome this and be okay. You’re learning coping skills to help you deal with your depression and the unhealthy thoughts. So, can I ask you something?”
I nod.
“Why did you cut? I know Haydon got you started, but why did you want to?”
I rub my arms. “Because the pain felt good … it hurt, but at the same time it didn’t, if that makes sense. Cutting was pretty much the only thing in my life I had some semblance of control over.”
“So, what things can you do instead of cutting or harming yourself?”
“I can focus on my art: drawing, painting, sculpting … I can take walks or go for runs. Hang out at the beach, write in my journal, listen to music, hang out with friends,” I say.
“Yes. Those are all healthy things. It doesn’t have to be big to take your mind off cutting. You can go stargazing, or eat a bowl of ice cream, pick flowers—anything you want Ellie.”
She leans closer, her dandelion print dress, bunching up around her waist. “The other thing we need to talk about is pressure. The pressure your parents put on you, the pressure you put on yourself. You need to work on knowing it’s okay not to be perfect. We’re allowed to make mistakes, Ellie. It’s how we learn. Besides, no one is perfect; it’s only a perception.”
“But my parents expect so much from me,” I say.
“They do. But you need to know your limits. I’ve already talked with them about some of the unrealistic goals they have for you. I told them they need to be more encouraging in the things you love and enjoy. That not everyone has to be a lawyer or a doctor.”
The D.B. List Page 11
