I want to feel loved without feeling I was begging for it.

"Why would I want a drop out tutoring me?"

Those words have never hurt like they did that minute. I knew dropping my major would raise questions but I never expected it to hurt this much.

Is that what they all think? Is that what my parents thought when they got the news?

I can feel the tears lurking behind my eyelids threatening to fall and I consider giving in,

But I won't give him the satisfaction of watching me cry, gathering and steeling myself,

"If you must know I was the best in my class and I choose to drop out to do what I love doing in a new freaking place,and fuck you!" I manage to say without a quiver in my voice.

I leave the diner, determined to lock myself up in the room alone for the rest of this miserable day.

"Ocean eyes," I hear his voice call but I haven't the slightest idea who he is calling.

"Ocean eyes please stop," a hand wraps around my forearm bring me to a halt, "listen to me Sky please,"

"Who is Ocean eyes?" I am confused.

"Your eyes," he says, rubbing his left forearm.

"Ohh! Still leave me alone," I say, moving away from him.

"Please listen to me, give a minute please," he pleads standing In front of me.

I hesitate. I do wanna hear what he has to say but am afraid it's going to be just another salt to the wound.

"You have 55 seconds left,"

" I am sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. My ego was a little bruised at having to ask the girl who doesn't like me to help me out. It was stupid of me and I am really sorry, I need your help please, my career is riding on this," he begs.

"So you are used to everyone liking you?" I scoff.

"Well not to brag but I kinda am the school's golden boy," he brags.

"Well, how humble of you,"

"It's a gift I treasure. I didn't mean the drop out thing, I am actually kinda jealous of you. You know what you want and went for it. While here I am still a coward at putting my feet into the water and taking the swim. And plus I will pay," he says, his eyes edging on his vulnerability.

I consider his words. I don't really need money, I am more than sorted in that department, but what today taught me is that I am not just rusty at hockey, I am borderline almost forgetting to play. And if I want to stand a chance at playing this season I need one of the best hockey players in this school's help.

"Fine, I will help," I concede. " But under certain conditions you are going to help me with hockey and as for the insult you will be my delivery guy until I feel the scores are even,"

I walk away before he can respond heading to my room for the rest of the day.

******

To: griffincaleb@gmail.com

From: Skylarlodge@gmail.com

Subject: Therapy

I had no friends so there's no one I could call or go to but I was a regular at the Sun down bar a few blocks from my former school, Brakebills University and that is where I went.

"Your usual?" The bartender Greg asks when I take a seat by the bar counter.

"Make it strong," I replied, stretching a bit to take his drink.

I down the whole glass.

"That bad?" He asks, making my favorite cocktail bloody Murderess, a mixture of vodka, captain Morgan and red wine.

It's actually my very own recipe. I came up with it when I was eighteen and I could stack alcohol in my house without the worry of getting caught and I was binge watching horror.

"Bad is an understatement,"

He hands me my drink and I chug it down.

"Need to talk, I'm here," he hands me another.

I give him a nod as I take a sip of the drink, savoring the burning feeling as the drink goes down my throat.

Gregory was a part of my class and the first person to be paired with for our first semester so we just did group discussion together and he has been manning this bar for as long as I can remember so we are some sort of friends or something but we never talk outside the bar or class,

So I am a bit skeptical when he offers to listen to my woes, despite the delegated bartender listening job.

I continue drinking as Erik's words slowly trickle to mind.

I am Not sick!

"I am not sick,"I say it out loud just to make sure.

I never dared to dream what my life would be if I wasn't sick because that would foster hopes that would hurt me more knowing I could die at any time.

Whenever I went for my doctor's appointment, he would never tell me anything, all he would say was "see you at your next appointment. I will send the results to your parents" every time without fail.

I Know you probably think I am the most stupid person in the world because everything was right in front of me but yet I failed to see it. I never had any symptoms nor was I ever weak enough to show I was sick and neither had I ever infected anyone.

But no matter what evidence I find to prove I am not sick, I still can't help but feel that it's just hope given to me to distract me from how bad things really are.

"Hey," a soft feminine voice floats to me as the stool next to me is pulled.

"Hi?" I don't look at the person.

"I knew I'ld find you here," she says.

I turn to face her. It's my twin.

"How?" I ask.

I don't have the energy to run any more. I want answers.

"I have seen you a couple of times here," she says.

"What can I get you sweetheart?" Greg asks.

"A martini please," she smiles.

Not the thank you bartender but the THANK YOU bartender.

"You know him?" I ask immediately Greg moves to the other side to serve.

"Yeah. He's my boyfriend, but don't tell dad he can be so overprotective, you know?" She says, taking a sip of her drink.

"Ohh! Yes I am very aware of how dad can get so involved," my voice drips of sarcasm.

"Guess I deserved that one," she sighs.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"To check on you," she smiles.

"I feel and look like a queen," I say dryly.

"I can see," she mutters .

We are both silent for a while.

"My name is Alishya by the way," she says, stretching her hand for a greeting.

I look at her then her outstretched hand. Releasing a sigh I decided to indulge her.

"Skylar," I shake her hand.

I can almost see the wheels on her head running finding out what to say next.

"When did you know?" I beat her to it, asking the question that has been running in my head when I saw her.

"When I was ten," she hesitates to answer.

I turned to her, shocked.

"So when I was being forced to live by myself, you were learning about your family and enjoying family dinners while I ate alone. How spectacular," I turn to my drink.

I finish it and signal for Greg to fill it up.

"Add four shot of tequila,"

"I don't want tequila-" she begins to say.

"There are mine," and I throw each hitting the back of my mouth and sliding down to my stomach in a burning pleasure.

"Am sorry, but dad had every intention of telling you, actually he wanted to get full custody of you but your father wouldn't let you go,"

"Why not? It's not like he gave a crap about me?"

"I don't know but I know he loves to rub it in on how both dad's daughters followed his footsteps, going to his alma mater and doing his course," she says.

"What? You go to Brakebills?"

"Yeah, I am in the same class as you. You never noticed? I pass by where you sit and say hello to you every class?" She looks at me.

I have never seen her before today in my life and that is to say something cause I pride myself in observation.

"No," I shake my head for emphasis.

"Ohh!" She's hurt.

I don't know what else to say so I focus on my drink.

"Well he deserves that for not caring about his daughter," I mutter to myself.

"How dare you? I know you are hurting but never say that dad never cared. He has been the best father he could given the circumstances. He has been both a mother and a father to you. He never went a day without talking about you. It was annoying at first but I got used to it because I had mom, you had no one.He even missed my recitals to come watch you play for years," she admonishes, a fire in her eyes that I recognized from the many times Carrie was bullied at school and I defended her.