A/N: Hi everyone. I know that this story may not get that many hits, mainly because i believe the Cruel Intentions fandom is not very active in plain 2019, wow, first time I ever even wrote the year. Also, this starting chapter includes various sensitive topics for some people, so beforehand I would like to warn you all.
I started writing fanfics for this site I believe three years ago, and since then i like to think my writing and idea developing skills have improved. I hope you really enjoy this. :)
It was difficult to even think about the happenings herself, but she had been forced, by everyone, to talk about it too. And this, talk to someone whom she didn't know, and could hardly ever trust. She wasn't mad, no, she understood why her mother wanted her to attend a rehab in the first place. After all, walking around with coke on you all day couldn't be the description of healthy. But she didn't need any kind of rehabilitation, not really, she could stop when she wanted to. That's what she told herself, at least.
"How's Sebastian?" She asked her mother over the phone every week. The one and only phone call she got in seven days, and all she wanted to talk about was her step-brother.
"Recovering." Was her mother's one and only answer. "You should try to do so yourself."
Kathryn knew Tiffany couldn't possibly be worried about her only child's well-being, any more than she worried about her image. She knew Tiffany wanted to be seen as the perfect mother. The one who supported her daughter in spite of her drug addiction.
"I'm recovered." Kathryn would claim in that angelic voice of hers. "I just want to come home."
"Kathryn, even when you are truly rehabilitated, you're not coming back to New York." Her mother said, with such ease.
"What are you talking about?" She heard her mother clear her throat.
"Your step-father and I decided that Sebastian and you shouldn't live in such close quarters anymore, after all, that journal of his did describe some disgusting images." She could almost see Tiffany smile. "I assure you, Kathryn, that you'll only see Sebastian Valmont's face at Christmas parties ever again. And that's it."
She hanged up the phone, not wanting to hear her mother's threats anymore. She was done. The only purpose she had for getting better was seeing Sebastian walk and talk again. The last time she had seen him, he was...well, damaged. And she had realized it had all been her fault. If only she had been a bit less devilish, maybe nothing bad would've happened. But then she remembered, she had wished Sebastian was dead by the time he left her room that one last time.
When she left for rehab upstate, he was in an induced coma. Still, she had said goodbye to him, pretty sure he could hear her apologize. It was nerve wracking to see their parents standing outside the door, as if checking for any other damage she could do to him. Truth was, all she wanted to hear was his voice saying that he understood, that he still understood her. She wanted to hear that he was still just like her: dark and twisted. But she had left his hospital room with the whole knowledge that those words wouldn't come out of his mouth, ever. He was another man, Kathryn just didn't want to admit it. She had lost him.
Annette had dissolved the containing's of his journal shortly after the accident; she wanted to make sure Kathryn ended up thoroughly exposed and as hurt as Sebastian had looked to be. Needless to say, Annette succeeded. Kathryn was kicked out of Manchester Prep and her parents found her stash both in her crucifix and her room. Nathaniel Valmont had suggested they admit her to a very private rehab program away from the city, Tiffany agreed and Kathryn was on her way, leaving everything that remotely mattered to her behind.
The past few months hadn't been easy on her, nothing had really. She had gone through withdrawal and a painful detoxing process just last month and she felt like her insides were melting. She couldn't talk to anybody, not yet. And most times she found herself thinking about death and how it sounded much more appealing to what she was experiencing currently. And that call she had just ended, it made it for her. Why would she even want to get better when the one person she truly cared about was never going to be in her life again?
Two days later they found her with her wrists slashed by a piece of smashed mirror. She hadn't been on suicide watch, so they didn't take those precautions on Kathryn.
She awoke, a true miracle. She felt weakened, she couldn't even kill herself. Kathryn felt defeated, nothing made sense anymore, she didn't have anything to live for. Her whole life had been shattered away and all because of the venom she lived by. All because of her inability to live a normal life.
Twelve hours later her mother appeared by the side of her hospital bed. Kathryn had to admit that she was impressed. She didn't expect Tiffany to care enough to drive all the way up here. Not that she had to do the driving herself.
"What were you thinking?" She didn't let her answer. "Are you that sick, Kathryn?"
"I think, yes." She replied in all honesty. Her mother seemed to ignore her last statement.
"Why are you so selfish? You are more than aware that this family can't take another tragedy after what happened to Sebastian. And now you? Trying to commit suicide like the weak, self-centered brat that you are." Kathryn was actually sad that nobody was in there with them listening to what her mother had to say. If there were, anybody around, they would surely throw Tiffany inside psychiatric cell too.
"Why did you come here?"
"Honestly, I wanted to see if it was true. I just couldn't believe I raised such a coward." Kathryn couldn't believe her.
"You didn't raise anybody, mother. I had to raise myself, no wonder I ended up like this." At this, Tiffany threw her daughter another disgusted glance and walked out of the room.
She thought no one would come to see her ever again, but to her surprise Annette showed up a few days later. She was bearing presents, such as flowers and a card from the gift shop. Kathryn was still feeling weak, and she wasn't in the mood to even be a little courteous to Annette.
"What are you doing here?" Kathryn could almost see herself through Annette's blue eyes: thinner than ever, wired up to who knows what machine, bags under her eyes, broken spirit and greenish skin. The true look of a defeated one.
"Sebastian is outside." Annette saw her eyes light up. "This gifts aren't his, they're mine. I just couldn't come in empty handed." She left the flowers and the card on a small table at the side of the room. Kathryn wanted to groan, even when it was the least expected of her, Annette had to be so nice.
"Why didn't he come in?"
"He just realized he doesn't want to see you." The words just slipped out of Annette's mouth, like she didn't even notice, like it wasn't her intention to voice them out loud. "Not yet." She added softly.
"Wow, that was even mean honest, for a suicidal girl like me."
"Kathryn, you're not suicidal, don't expect me to believe that. Sebastian said so himself; you enjoy the killing of others, but never of yourself." Kathryn saw the blonde girl gulp, as if she had just slipped out something again.
"Sebastian said that?" Annette didn't answer, instead walked up and analyzed her medical chart. "You do know that's confidential, don't you?"
"You slashed your wrists, and they just put you out of sedatives. No wonder you look so numb. You should think it is a good thing Sebastian isn't here, he wouldn't recognize you." Kathryn distinguished the tone in which Annette spoke, it was almost spiteful.
"I don't think you understand the nature of my relationship with Sebastian yet, Annette. Not even after reading his journal would anybody understand. He left some things out. It's only he and I that can even begin to comprehend our relationship." Annette smiled.
"He told me everything, Kathryn, from beginning to end. Your first kiss, the letters, the parties, the first time you even spoke. That's not in his journal, but he told me it was non important stuff to even write about." She paused, debating on whether or not to say what she wanted to so badly. "He only used you for literary purposes."
"What's non important here, Annette, is your relationship with him. It won't ever come as close as what Sebastian and I have."
"Really? Because he doesn't even want to see you. I think he's done with you, and he just now figured it out it." It was the first time in her life that Kathryn wanted to resource to physical violence, but the wires were holding her down. Annette must've seen that in her eyes, and left the room quickly without saying another word.
Those were the only visits she ever got while she was getting better in the hospital. Now, as they put her back on rehab, they assigned her a room with no pointy objects or things that could be broken that easily. Just a bed and a chair by her side. All she needed apparently. Her nurse told her she had to attend therapy. By now, a shrink was the least of her problems.
The office she walked inside of was very well lighted, she could see the outside of the building she now lived in, and her eyes could almost reach the city. She sat down in the large couch, looking around. The room was packed with shelves and the books in them. Kathryn felt as if she were in a movie and everyone watching knew she wouldn't come out of her rock bottom.
The shrink walked in. He was young and good looking, he brought with him a limber air. He introduced himself as doctor Josh. Kathryn assumed right away his way of working was making you believe he was your friend and then running around telling all of your secrets.
"So, what do you want to talk about?" He asked her. Wasn't he supposed to know that?
"I don't know, the weather?" Josh chuckled.
"We can talk about it if you want, but I don't know how that'll help you." He smiled charmingly at her. He almost reminded her of an older version of Sebastian, but not quite. He was black haired, curls touching his forehead, green eyes and a not at all somber impression.
"You're right, it won't help me. But I don't need help right now." She was hearing herself, she sounded stubborn and a little unaware of her situation.
"You tried to kill yourself, Kathryn, I think you do." Josh stated. Now she smirked.
"So you want me to tell you why I wanted to die? I don't even know myself, guess it all just became pointless one day." He nodded.
"But you were already admitted because of drug abuse. This place can be depressing, I get it." She got the need to roll her eyes.
"You can't possibly understand, you don't have to try to sleep here while you hear someone go through withdrawal, or someone screaming because they can't do it anymore. It's not that simple." She said, meaning every word.
"So, you're stating it did affect you to be here."
"Of course it did, asshole, it would affect anyone, even the sanest person. But that is not why I slashed my wrists, I'm stronger than that." Josh didn't mind the cursing, even when it was directed to him, he was used to it. He took out a notepad and scribbled something on it. Oh, how Kathryn hated shrinks.
"So then, tell, what did make you slash your wrists? And don't tell me you don't know, something had to go through your mind the moment you decided to do it." She could hear the desperation in his voice, she supposed it wasn't easy to try and get answers from sedated idiots all day long.
"I wasn't thinking of anything at all, I felt numb. I don't even remember pain. I just woke up in a hospital bed and that was it." Josh gulped.
"Was anyone with you when you woke up?" She nodded.
"A couple of nurses checking on my vitals."
"I meant family, friends even." She laughed slightly at this.
"My mom showed up a day later, and a girl I know three days after that." She said.
"Did it make you feel any better to see people you know?"
"No." Kathryn frowned. "It made me feel worse."
Josh cleared his throat. He really did hate cases like this, the girl numb as can be with the occasional outburst and cursing. He thought it would be at least a month until he got any real answers from her. Her background wouldn't help either; he had read her entire file. Rich kid, brought in by drug abuse, family wants it to remain private. And, other than her age, he wasn't surprised by anything.
"How so?" He questioned. Though, he knew, it was a reply he got often from his patients, most of them from dysfunctional families.
There was a silence as he watched Kathryn think about her answer; he could see the calculating gaze she had. That wouldn't help her in therapy, at all.
"I don't know, what do you want me to say?" He sighed.
"Look, Kathryn, we can not talk all month if you want. But that won't help you. I'm getting paid anyway for doing nothing, and believe me when I say that doesn't feel wrong at all. I'm putting my help at your disposal, you just have to take it."
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