Lyle drove me around Seattle.


    For him to give me another vial of Winter, I had to work for him. I didn’t have to sell drugs or do anything weird. All I did was collect money. I didn’t ask why I was doing it.


    It wasn’t hard. Lyle would stop at someone’s house and I would knock on their door and ask for the debt. Sometimes that debt came from advances on a drug deal or as a loan. I didn’t care why these people owed Lyle money.


    Lyle assured me that I wouldn’t be in danger of doing all of this. He didn’t tell me what I had to do when someone couldn’t bring out the money. That part hadn’t came up yet.


    In between houses, we talked.


    Lyle was like:


    “Is it self-destruction?”


    I was like:


    “More like apathy.”


    “Winter won’t make you able to find what you’re looking for,” he snarked. “It only gives you the path.”


    Lyle, in his words, wanted to get to know me. He found me interesting. I was special compared to everyone else that he had met. That was the only reason why he entertained me.


    In getting to know me, he’d ask about everything that led up to me meeting him.


    And I told him.


    “So what am I supposed to do then?”


    “Elizabeth, what you feel right now is that you have no control. You let fear control you. Things have gotten so out of hand that you’re not sure if you can make it all right. You’re jealous, insecure, scared, and weak. You think some drug will bring you back to the person you once were, someone who had power, but you’re wrong. Only you can give yourself back that control.”


    “Was I ever that person to begin with? I’m nothing but a tool, an object, a trophy. Even now, I’m nothing but a toy to play with. How do I stop myself from being so angry about that?”?


    “You are not the voice inside your head. You’re what hears it. We spend most of our life wasting time thinking it’s who we are. We attach our identity to something that’s always being watched and, in doing so, convince ourselves that the identity others see is us too. We are driven, unconsciously, by our worries, fears, and fantasies. When we become aware of that, we succumb to it. It strips us from having the ability to see past it.”


    “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”


    Lyle shook his head. “It’s only when we are constantly aware of our awareness that helps. It’s only then that you’ll be able to see beyond yourself. In a sea where everyone else lives exactly how you do, you can rise above it. You can become the storm that controls the sea.”


    I laughed, brushing him off. “You sound like my friend Chris.”


    “Great minds think alike.”


    But that’s who Lyle was.


    I never met someone more intimidating, someone who had a presence so strong it felt supernatural. Being around him was like trying to walk around eggshells. Lyle was someone you didn’t want to mess with.


    And yet he was easy to talk to.


    He was charming.


    “I don’t like this house,” I told him at the last stop for the day.


    Every other time, I collected in the nicer neighborhoods of the city. I collected from people I never expected to be involved with Lyle. Businessmen, artists, mothers and fathers, and well-adjusted people who had no reason to owe Lyle. I never felt that I was in any danger because I never was.


    The house in front of me now was different.


    The lawn was overgrown and toys were everywhere. The house’s paint was peeling off and a window was boarded up.


    “You’ll be fine. It’s just like all the others.”


    I swallowed my knot and stepped out of the car. It was simple really. All I had to do was knock on the door and ask for Lyle’s money, exactly like every time before. I stared at this run-down house that reminded me of those shitty motels outside of town where only criminals would stay to hide.


    I walked up to the door and knocked. I wondered who was going to answer and what they were going to think. Someone like me didn’t belong here. I stood out. Someone as pretty as me had no business being here. What I was doing could only be seen as a prank.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    A woman with a baby in her arms opened the door. The inside of the house was well organized and clean compared to the outside. I expected some crackhead to have trash all over.


    No, this woman was dressed neatly and clean.


    “Yes?” she smiled.


    “I’m here for, uh,” I stopped myself.


    “That’s alright, I know,” she said, glancing at the SUV. “Give me one second,” she went inside and out of my sight. She came back a few seconds later with a white envelope. “He asked you to count in front of me, right?”


    “Yeah.”


    Don’t trust, Lyle. He likes to have people do this sort of stuff,” She said while I counted the money.


    I slowed my count, “Why?”


    “He likes to play with people''s lives. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but be careful. Don’t believe his lies. He only wants to control you.”


    The money was all there and she shut the door, having nothing else to do with me.


    Lyle said, “You did well. Not that scary, right?”


    “Right. How many more days of this until you give me what I want?”


    “Until you prove yourself.”


    “Prove what?”


    “That you’re ready.”


    “And how much longer until I am? It’s already been weeks.”


    “Have you been thinking about what I’ve told you?”


    “It’s nonsense.”


    -


    Lyle dropped me home but I couldn’t go inside.


    Everything had only gotten worse.


    I was forced to wear another mask, this one that pretended that everything was fine. I had to pretend that I was back to normal like I hadn’t done wrong. Like I could move on.


    I couldn’t.


    It made me nauseous, sick, and tired.


    Lyle was right about one thing, fear was controlling me. How could it not when I brought this on myself?


    I’m the one who wanted a distraction in Cody. I let myself fall for him and believe in his lies. I let myself get jealous of Emily. I allowed myself to use Sara as a tool to be petty. I’m the one who did the drugs just so I could feel better. I’m the one who fucked Andrew.


    I threw up on my street.


    Nobody did this to me. This was all my fault.


    I didn’t feel safe anywhere.


    The woman in white told me something that I should have remembered. I only had the remnant peace of what it was to chase after. If only I could remember, then everything would turn out okay.


    I ended up spending the night at Jana Kramer’s. She was the only person where I didn’t feel the overwhelming dread and negativity that followed me.


    She wore a cute pajama onesie that said, “Christ loves you,”


    Jana Kramer was the only light left inside me.


    “How can you believe in God?” I asked her.


    Jana Kramer laughed like I asked the stupidest question I could. She sat down on her creaky bed and wrapped herself around her gigantic plush toy pillow. “How could I not? Don’t you?”


    “No. I don’t believe in God.”


    “That’s okay because he believes in you. He loves you just like he loves me.”


    I scoffed, stopping my laughter. “God loves us all, huh?”


    “That’s right.”


    “So you’re saying that he lets suffering and evil happen because he loves us? What makes him save one person and not another? That’s what they say when someone survives a tragedy, right? ‘God saved me. He saved me for a reason’. What kind of logic is that?”


    “Ellie, that’s not-”


    “If there is a God, he doesn’t love. He discriminates.”


    “Ellie, are you okay?”


    “Oh, God has a purpose. God has a purpose! What purpose is that? What’s the purpose of pain, in suffering? How can you believe in a God that picks and chooses?”


    Jana Kramer was silent. I didn’t dare look up from the ground. I was content staring at it on my chair.


    I had no right to say all that to her.


    Jana Kramer did nothing wrong.


    Like everything else, I just wanted an escape. Maybe I wanted to destroy this too.


    “You’re wrong,” she finally said. “God didn’t create evil. He doesn’t want us to suffer. He doesn’t pick and choose. That’s not love.”


    “Then what is?”


    “The love he gives is the free will we have. We make our own choices. That’s the gift we were given. We can walk our own paths. Just because God is all-knowing doesn’t mean he is the one who determines everything.”


    “Then why doesn’t he stop the bad?”


    “How else would we appreciate the good?”


    If God loved me, why did he let me do all of this?


    Why was he punishing me?


    Jana Kramer wrapped a blanket around me and held my hands. My hands were cold. Her smile wavered into a frown when we met eyes.


    “Want to tell me what’s going on?”


    I shook my head. “Can we just watch a movie or something? I don’t feel like crying tonight.”


    “Okay. We can talk about it some othe day,” she said softly. “I’m really glad we got close this summer. I’m glad God let me have you in my life.”


    “I’m not special.”


    “You’re special to me. You always were,” she let go of my hands and stood up. “What to do want to watch?”


    “Something funny.”


    Jana Kramer allowed me to snuggle next to her while we watch her favorite comedy. While my eyes were glued on the the TV, I felt like she was paying more attention to something else, to me.


    Halfway through the movie, I became nauseous again. I excused myself to the bathroom. I couldn’t ignore the nausea that was caming and going the past few days. I couldn’t ignore the cramping.


    I meant to go to the bathroom much earlier.


    I didn’t want to be alone.


    I couldn’t ignore that my period was several days late now.


    I didn’t want to be alone.


    The test I bought earlier in the morning came out positive.


    I put it inside my bag and left the bathroom.


    I cuddled next to my friend again and didn’t tell her. I pretended that it was all fine.


    I pretended it wasn’t real.