Cinder & Ella

Chapter 4

The only woman on my rehabilitation team was my psychological therapist, but even she was still young and attractive. Her being a girl was really for the best, though, because I was actually required to put together coherent sentences in our sessions, and that seems pretty impossible for me to do around Delicious Daniel.

Dr. Parish started with the inquisition before I'd even settled myself into the big leather wingback chair in her office. "How was your week, Ella? Any progress to report?"

I loved the chair, but I hated my weekly therapy sessions. They were awkward at best and I always left them feeling awful. "I finally caught up on all the episodes I missed of Once Upon A Time." That was the only progress I could think of. It was basically the only thing I'd done all week.

"You know I was talking about your family."

"Those people are not my family."

Dr. Parish smiled at me. "I understand why you feel that way. However, they are your family and you need to accept that. You need to find a way to build a relationship with them."

"I can't build a relationship with people who don't like me and don't want me around. The only time I ever talk to the twins is when they call me to make sure I'm hiding in my room before they bring their friends home, and they tell me they'll text me when it's safe for me to come out."

The thing about Dr. Parish is that she never loses her cool. I know that she must get frustrated, but somehow she always looks and sounds genuinely sympathetic. "I'm sure you're misinterpreting their intentions. Perhaps when they call to tell you they're bringing friends home, it's their way of trying to include you."

I snorted at this. Dr. Parish is a smart woman, but she has way too much optimism. "Anastasia's exact words when she called me yesterday were 'Hey, Stepfreak, I'm bringing some of my friends home, and they all have this, like, really bad fear of dogs, so make sure you lock yourself in your room this evening. I'll text you when it's safe to come out.' Call me pessimistic, but I don't think I misinterpreted that."

Dr. Parish's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

"The best part about it," I continued on, "was all the laughter in the background. She was with her friends when she called to tell me this. She waited until she had an audience on purpose."

"Did you talk to your parents about your stepsister's behavior?"

Again, I laughed without humor. "She's said worse to my face with both my dad and Jennifer standing right there. They always just force these nervous laughs like 'Oh, how sweet, the girls are joking around with each other.' They never say anything. They're in total denial. They give those girls whatever they want and let them do whatever they want. Juliette at least has the decency to just pretend I don't exist if I stay out of her way, but Ana is a vicious, rotten, spoiled princess. I wouldn't be friends with her even if she did give me the chance. She's not the kind of person who is healthy for anyone to be friends with. She's a quintessential Mean Girl—like the kind they make movies about."

Dr. Parish sighed. She set down her pen that she's always taking notes with during our sessions and took her glasses off to rub at her eyes. Obviously tired of going around in circles, she changed the subject. "Let's talk more about your attempted suicide."

I groaned, but I still tugged at the sleeves of my shirt. I had scars all over my body, but the ones on my wrists were different. Those scars were my own fault. That moment in my life was a decision I truly regretted. Something I was ashamed of. "That was a mistake," I whispered. "I wasn't even that serious."

"I've read the reports, Ella, and I've seen a number of attempted suicide cases. Had you had more than a steak knife available to you, you'd have succeeded. You almost did. You weren't messing around."