Somewhere in Between

i. the arrival

❦❤︎❦
OLIVIA

People go to college to find themselves, right? That's what I've heard.

I'm not talking about the people who already know who they are and where they're going, the ones who actually have a plan for their life that they're here to see through. Envy isn't an emotion that comes easily to me, I thought I had everything I wanted. But I envy those people, privileged or even God forbid, my friends would die if I said it aloud—middle class—who aren't feeling lost the way I am right now.

"You're not serious. Don't let him send you away, Livvy. Who even needs college when you're an Abrams?" Alissa, my best friend said to me after I broke the news. The mockery quickly morphed into confusion and if I wasn't mistaken, bitterness when she realised I was actually going through with it. Leaving her. Leaving all of them.

Personally, I thought it was fitting, even if my father intended for it to be a punishment. Since I didn't recognise myself anymore. The person I've become.

I've made some real big mistakes in my life. Mistakes I keep making despite the guilt and self-loathing I feel that only continues to grow, festering inside me until I hate myself so much I can't take it anymore. I couldn't take it anymore.

For once I'm grateful my dad has no attachments toward me. I'd agreed to leave without sounding too eager through my tears—anything to get away from the shitshow back at home that I only had myself to blame for. Fleeing the state and narrowly avoiding the confrontation of what I'd done. He'd make all the arrangements needed for me to be enrolled in classes right after the Christmas break. Because my father had that kind of power behind his name and more likely, he wanted me gone as soon as possible.

Instead of vacationing with friends like I usually did every year I'd spent Christmas and the days leading up to New Years alone. The spacious hotel suite I would now be residing in offered floor to ceiling windows all round, displaying panoramic views of a city I didn't know as I stewed in my thoughts for days. Modern furnishings, sleek armchairs, black leather and white marble adorn my surroundings and it's beautiful. Lifeless. And in the heated suite it's still cold, a different and cruel kind of cold to the snow falling outside.

I frowned at the hotel at first. Staying here instead of an apartment? Mandatory campus housing was out of the question since the semester has already started, which I should be grateful for. This hotel was one of the many companies my father owned, so I guess it made sense on short notice.

But being in this hotel room felt so temporary. Maybe this was some sick joke. Maybe my father was testing me. My friends are definitely talking mad shit about me right now, placing bets as we speak on how long I'd last in college before I failed out and had no choice but to go back. Back to being the disappointing trophy child who eventually became someone else's trophy wife—and that was only if I was extra lucky because as I'd been reminded of plenty of times I didn't have anything else going for me—

A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts and I'm thankful for it. I'm quick to fit a baseball cap on my head of long wavy hair as I make my way to the door. It was five already, I'd been passed out half the day and finally picked myself up to shower, my hair freshly blowdried and my skincare done, but my face was still a problem. The concealer I applied couldn't hide the dark rings under my eyes that appeared overnight.

And at the door was the same housekeeper I'd scared the shit out of earlier who came into my suite to check on me. There'd been no sign of life coming from my room by 3pm and I woke to find her standing over me, checking my pulse. After the night I had I looked half dead.

A staff member witnessing me hit what I'd call rock bottom was a different kind of humiliation that had me wishing I would've just died right there instead—and I don't even think I'm joking.