1My mother told me not to expect perfection from anyone. She was referencing to herself and my father, but the words struck me on a whole different level. I've been struggling to be ever so perfect for her, walking on egg shells to make sure nothing breaks her ever again. I don't want anything to shock her back into the catatonic state that she's been in for the past four years. But I also don't want her to see how absolutely imperfect I truly am. I lied to break up a marriage because I was in love with a boy. A boy who was in love with his wife. My scheming worked. He believed every venomous lie I told him and left her. And I slept with him. I lost my virginity to a boy in love with someone else. And I knew the whole time that he was only with me because of the lie I'd told. I confessed to him, if anyone cares anymore. He didn't believe me. Doesn't that mean something? I guess not. He knows the truth now. He overheard me talking to his mother about it and he left me. He took her back, promising to make their relationship work somehow.
And then we all found out that I was pregnant. His family, his mother in particular, manufactured faulty condoms. I had learned my lesson. I had finally accepted that Dillon could never love me. I'm no where near ready to be a mother, to be responsible for another human life. I'm having a hard enough time managing my own. So I decided that I was going to have an abortion. Dillon fought me on it. He begged me to give him the baby, to let him raise our child on his own. But he was just as ready as I was to raise a kid. He has dreams to be a director, to do something big with his life. I would not let my lie be responsible for destroying anything else in his life. He finally resigned to the fact that I was going to have the abortion, that our baby would never be born. I expected to be relieved after the procedure. But I only felt tired and empty. I slept well that night, but the emptiness was still there when I finally dragged myself awake.
I still feel empty. And alone. I have two wonderful brothers, but they're each dealing with problems of their own. My sister in-law is pregnant and struggling to raise her son. My mom, at the time, was still lost inside her own head. My dad had been everywhere but here. Now, yeah, my mother's back. But I can't go to her, can't confide in her. I can't let her know what a screw up I've become in her absence. I refuse to be the reason we lose her again. So I stay where I am now. I remain locked away in my overdone room at the Quartermaine Mansion. I don't know what we're going to do when my mom's released from the facility she's been in. She'll want to go home, to have her family surrounding her. But my dad will figure it out. He always does. I jump, stunned out of my thoughts by a soft knock on the white door. My eyes flicker from the door to the picture of my mother that I hold in my hands. I don't want to face Tracy, Dillon's mother and my father's temporary wife. The rest of the Quartermaine family don't really pay any attention to me, especially now that I no longer carry the Quartermaine heir that Edward, Dillon's grandfather, wants so desperately.
Jason, Dillon's cousin, abandoned the family ten years ago. AJ, Jason's brother, was the bad seed of the family from what I've heard. He went out with a bang though. He was murdered in the hospital where he was recovering from a broken back. His final triumph was kidnaping his biological son, Michael Corinthos, and making everyone think the kid was dead. I smile at the thought of my cousin's little red-headed son. Carly, my cousin, was deeply embedded in the Quartermaine family. Kind of like I've become. Emily, Dillon's cousin by adoption, had no children and had yet to actually disappoint anyone. It seems like she might re-marry my eldest brother, Nikolas, and then she'll have a step-son, Spencer. Ned, Dillon's brother, is the only one to give Edward a great-grandchild. Brooke, a girl around my age, left town not to long ago. She wasn't really digging the Quartermaine riches. And then there's my baby. The heir that'll never be. I clear my throat, brushing away the traitorous tears away with the back of my hand. The door opens despite my lack of encouragement.
"You didn't answer. I called your name at least five times and I knew you were in here so I decided to make sure you're okay. You downed quite a bit of alcohol last night," Dillon smiles wearily at me, holding out a cup of steaming coffee. I accept it, smiling weakly as I inhale the rich scent. Dillon sits on my bed, a decent distance from the window seat I'm resting on. He looks down at his clasped hands before glancing up at me again. "You've been drinking a lot the past few nights,"
"I'm just having fun, Dillon. College kids drink," I reply half-heartedly. My brother, Lucky, is in rehab for a drug addiction. I don't want to even think about letting myself get addicted to anything like he did, wrecking my life the way he tried to. I had never touched any serious liquor before the PCU Halloween party. I sip the black liquid silently for a minute before meeting his gaze. Worry flickers across his features. A cruel comment dies on my tongue. I shrug nonchalantly. "Don't worry about me,"
"Don't worry? You did something wrong, Lulu. You've paid a thousand times over for your mistakes," Dillon assures me bitterly as he stares down at his hands again. He smiles sardonically. I bite my lip to keep from admitting that I feel like I haven't paid for anything, that I just continue to make him pay for it all. I'm the one who had destroyed his marriage. I'm the one who had an abortion despite his protests. Guilt floods me. I smile mirthlessly despite myself. I only ever feel empty or guilty. I'm growing used to the half-life I've been living. I force my attention back to Dillon. "I was angry, you know, when I found out that you had lied. I could barely look at you. My best friend, someone I trusted inexplicably, had obliterated my marriage for her own selfish reasons. But, despite my anger and the fact that I no longer trusted you, I never fully crossed you off,"
"Now, Dillon, lets not forget the fact that I had an abortion. Even after you begged me to let you raise the baby on your own," I remind him, nothing but self-deprecation in my tone. The sunlight filters through the glass and warms my skin. I turn to look out the window, watching the sun reflect off the blue water of the Quartermaine lake. The lake house looms in the distance, mocking me with it's memories. I momentarily consider going to Monica and asking her if I may move into a room on the opposite side of the house. But that's where Dillon's room is and I don't want to be any closer to him than I have to be. I hear him make a sound, just a noise to acknowledge the irony of it all.
"I will never forget that you were pregnant with my baby or that you had an abortion. It wasn't a mass of cells, Lulu. It was a baby. He or she was part you and part me. That's not something to be forgotten," Dillon's voice is hollow and I struggle to see his eyes. He turns his face to the wall, as if deliberately hiding his emotions from me. I remind myself that his concern means nothing. He has no ties to me anymore. I've made sure of that. He speaks again, drawing my attention back to the present once again. "You had the abortion because you couldn't raise the baby the way it would've deserved,"
"I could have let you have the kid. You have the Quartermaine riches to back you," I snap, recalling the argument he had so powerfully presented to me time after time. I feel my body tense with the anticipation of a battle. Dillon had stopped fighting me prior to the abortion and hadn't seemed to blame me afterwards. But I had always known that he was still angry about my decision. I get to my feet, gripping the oak desk for balance. I hand him the white mug that was still half-full with the coffee he had brought me. "Thanks for the concern, Spielberg, but I'm fine rolling on my own,"
"Lu Lu..." His words are cut off as I walk into my bathroom and shut the door behind him. I can hear him get up and I listen carefully until he leaves my bedroom a few minutes later. I sigh with relief, glad to have avoided another ten rounds about all the mistakes I've made. I run a brush through my long, blonde hair. I look like my mother. Everyone has always said so. I also resemble my cousin Carly in the smallest ways. I choke back a sob. My mother and Carly are two of the most important people in my life and I know that I'm a lot like both of them in so many ways. But there's one thing about me that I want to be different. I watch a tear slip down my flushed cheek. I don't want to break, not like they did. My hands shake and the brush falls from my grip into the sink. I check the clock on my cell phone, knowing that Tracy and Edward have left for the office. Monica and Alan have been at the hospital for hours already, I'm sure. I calculate that I have time for a shower before Dillon leaves for his Intro to Business class. Then the coast will be clear, for the most part anyway. I can avoid the staff long enough to take the crystal decanter of vodka from the mini-bar in the den. I shed my clothes and turn the water until steam billows out of the stall in white clouds around me. I step under the scalding spray and let it beat against my flesh mercilessly.
I dress slowly and tug my wet hair back into a ponytail. I listen at my door for any signs of anyone. I only hear silence and creep out the door. I look over the railing and head down the stairs when I find no one in sight. The den is just as empty and I sneak in silently. I grab the vodka and stick it in the pocket of my old terry robe. I make my way up to my room as quickly and quietly as possible. I grab a coke out of the mini-fridge in the far left corner of the room and pour half the can into a glass I had on my bedside table. I fill the other half of the glass with the vodka I had grabbed. I stir the mixture with my index finger before wiping it on my jeans. I take a sip, coughing as the alcohol burns my throat. I see Dillon out of the corner of my eye. "Go to hell,"
"Put it down, Lulu. Your drama-queen statement is getting you no where," He warns quietly. I scoff and raise the glass to my lips again. I take a large swallow, smirking at him as I force myself not to grimace. I see annoyance flicker in Dillon's eyes. I lift my chin, determined to be defiant as always. I finish off the glass and turn to fix myself another one. I jerk upright when his fingers wrap around my wrist. I straighten my spine and freeze.
"Seriously, Dillon, let go of me right now. I really don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have, but, so help me God, I will if you don't let me go," I warn, my voice low and menacing. I'm
through playing games and he seems to sense that. His grip loosens and I manage to pull free. I finish mixing my drink, raising it towards him in a silent, mockery of a toast. I down half the glass and smile, satisfied with my act of utter rebelliousness. "Why aren't you in class?"
"I was running late when I saw you sneak out of the den with the vodka," He mutters, glancing impatiently at his watch. I finish my drink and silently make another. Dillon eyes me with pure exasperation. I shrug with a small smile and take a swallow of the concoction. We both know he can't stop me. At least not at the moment. A knowing look gleams in his eyes. "I'll have to mention you're breakfast choice to Grandfather,"
"Whatever you say, Spielberg," I retort nonchalantly. Edward would throw a fit if he knew I was drinking his precious booze. Dillon and I both know this. He was playing the rich kid card. I smile innocently and bat my eyes, taking another swallow of my drink. "Who would blame a confused teenager with absolutely no guidance for taking a wrong turn after going through such traumatic events? I mean, come on, I had a freaking abortion,"
"Do you really want to play on their pity just so that you can drink?" Dillon asks, eyeing me suspiciously. I turn my back to him, finishing off my third consistent drink. I go to make yet another when Dillon's grabs my shoulder, spinning me to face him. His eyes burn with rage. I sense his concern below the surface and am actually thankful to get his anger. The liquor has made me itching for a fight. "No one made you lie or forced you to have that procedure,"
"Procedure... Abortion... Such pretty words, aren't they?" I ask, pulling free and twirling around him with a wicked smile. I stumble and Dillon reaches out to steady me. I step away from his hands and my smile fades away. "Admit it, Dillon, you hate me. I killed your precious baby. You don't think I regret it? I wish there had been another way. But I couldn't have raised that kid on my own and there's no way in hell I was going to let you marry me when you're in love with Georgie. I learned my lesson the first time around, thank you very much. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to fix another drink in peace,"
"You're doing one hell of a job honoring our kid," Dillon quips as he makes himself comfortable on my bed. I shoot him a dirty look over my shoulder as I take a deep swallow of my drink. The alcohol doesn't burn as much now as my body becomes numb under it's effects. I smile affectionately at him as I turn around. "First you try to drop out of school and now you're becoming an alcoholic,"
"I'm not an alcoholic. They go to meetings and work the '12 steps'. I'm just your typical college girl," I take a sip of my drink before setting it on my dresser. I crawl onto the foot of my bed and reach out to ruffle Dillon's carefully slicked back hair. I take the glasses he wears, but doesn't need, and set them aside. I eye the sweater vest with disgust. I get up and search through my dresser, throwing things over my shoulder as I look for one particular item. I squeal in triumph as my fingers wrap around his Jim Morrison t-shirt. I had stolen it one night when we were down in the boat house. I toss it to him, taking another sip of my drink. He eyes the shirt suspiciously. I make a sound of annoyance in the back of my throat. He rolls his eyes, pulling off the sweater vest and tossing it aside. He pulls the t-shirt over his head and I smile with delight, crawling back onto the bed. "That's so much better,"
"You're drunk, Lulu," He mutters with disapproval. I cock my head to the side and shrug. I let my feet dangle off the end of my bed as my eyes scan the room. I bite my lip as I search out my drink. I reach out, finding that I can't reach across the room. I hear Dillon stifle a laugh and resist the urge to glare at him. I have bigger problems... You know, like getting my drink. I consider asking Dillon to get it for me, but he cuts me off before I can even make my lips form the words. "No chance in hell,"
"Jerk," I mumble as I get to my feet. I decided halfway there that I no longer what the original mixture. I stop and grab the decanter, tipping my head back and letting the vodka flow into my mouth. I close my eyes and force myself to swallow before heading back to my bed. I flash Dillon a look of annoyance. "See? I didn't need you anyway,"
"You never have, right? You wanted me, sure, but you never needed me. You're a Spencer, aren't you Lulu? You don't need anyone," His words drip with venom. He's angry that I'm strong enough to stand on my own? The thought puzzles me as I take another sip of the clear alcohol. I feel like telling to keep his sentences short, sweet, and to the point while I'm incapacitated. But I find I no longer care. Liquor can do that to a girl. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. He's already babbling about something else. "You know what? I think that's why you had the abortion. You have never needed anyone, never depended on someone else. If you had gone through with the pregnancy, if you had the baby, you would've needed me. We both know you couldn't have managed raising our kid on your own. I would've been around and you would've needed my help. And you just can't stand the thought of letting anyone in,"
"Thank you for the analysis, Dr. Phil," I grumble quietly under my breath. My thoughts are too fuzzy to form a decent retort so I just focus my attention on darkening my world with alcohol. Silence envelopes us and I glance over my shoulder to find Dillon watching me. I find no trace of anger or bitterness in his features. I sigh, setting the vodka on the floor at the foot of my bed. I crawl up and sit next to him, laying my head against his shoulder. "You're so wrong, Dillon. I've needed you since the day of the train wreck. Remember? My brothers were stuck in the tunnels and I could barely form a coherent thought. You kept me cool and rational. Okay, maybe not rational. But you did keep me from killing Georgie,"
"It was nothing," He glances down at me. The only reason I notice is because I had tilted my head back to stare up at him. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair once more, perfecting the messy spikes I loved.
"You helped me settle in here when I wanted to run at every turn. You got me to give my dad a chance and then you comforted me every time he took off when I needed him to be here. Dillon, you flew to the jungle and helped save my dad's life. I've needed you since the day I met you," I yawn and I feel him wrap his arm around me. I remind myself that I'm drunk and he'll go back to Georgie as soon as I close my eyes. I'm the screw up. I resist the urge to leave his embrace and find the vodka again. "I hate you for making me need you, making me miss you. I really hate you, Dillon,"