“Where did you get this?” she asks, touching the silk top.

“I wore it one year for… for Halloween,” I say, choking down the images of what I did while wearing the dress. I drank drink after drink that night and chased them down with pills. I’m surprised I didn’t end up in the hospital, although I probably would have been better off, instead of sleeping with two different guys in the same night and then throwing up alone in the bathroom afterward. I almost puke just thinking about it now, thinking about who I was.

She glances up at me. “You wore this for Halloween?”

I nod. “But it was actually just a dress I bought from a store and then turned it into a Victorian-style dress.”

“I guessed that much.” She lets her arm fall to her side. “But it looks so… unlike anything you would wear.”

I laugh, because she’s right, yet at the same time I’m also standing next to her in an old pair of shorts and a band T-shirt I stole form Ethan’s room. “I guess, but it was also Halloween and I was supposed to dress up as something unlike myself.”

“That’s true.” Her gaze returns to the dress and she bites back a smile. “Can I try it on?”

“Of course.” I hand it to her and head for the door so she can change in the closet. “You’re not offended I gave you an old costume, though, are you?” I ask as I shut the door.

She shakes her head, slipping the dress’s straps off the hanger. “Are you kidding me? It’s, like, the perfect dress, Lila. Seriously.”

I smile. “I thought it might be.”

“Lila?”

“Yeah.”

She offers me a genuine smile and makes me feel good inside, like I did something right. “Thank you.”

I return her smile wholeheartedly. “You’re welcome.”

I shut the door and sink down on the four-post bed. It still has the same satin white comforter on it that’s trimmed with lace. There are fluffy throw pillows all over it and the same floor-length curtains hang over the French doors. Everything is clean and tidy. Everything looks perfect. When I turned thirteen my mom spent weeks redecorating this room as a birthday present for me. I told her I wanted a pool party with my friends. Hell, I would have taken letting my friends come over and hang out over curtains and pillows that made the room pretty in theory—but it’d always felt so overly empty and unwelcoming. This used to be my life, and even back then I didn’t like it very much, yet I always kept going with it because it was what I was supposed to do. This kind of lifestyle, flourishing on the outside and no substance on the inside, was ingrained into my mind since the day I entered the world. I was pretty much doomed to be just like either my mom or my sister, and I would have probably ended up like one of them eventually, but I got lucky. Lucky because I met Ethan. He saved me not just from an addiction but also from myself. He showed me that I was worth getting clean. I’m worth more than self-destruction and emptiness.

I really wish I could talk to him at the moment. I just want to hear the sound of his voice. God, I wish I could kiss him again, feel his arms around me, feel him inside me, pushing me over the edge, making my body feel things I never thought were possible. He said I could call him whenever I needed him and it feels like I need him because this God damn house is getting to me and is surfacing the need to take a pill. It affects my emotions too much, the place where I endured my father telling me over and over again just how worthless I am. It’s where it all began, where I entered the world, doomed to strive for perfection, even though it doesn’t exist. I strived and strived, with everything I had in me, nearly killing myself to achieve something that I could never achieve because it’s not real. This life I’m in now, with Ethan, with Ella, is what’s real.

I decide to take Ethan up on the offer. I take my phone out of my back pocket and dial his number and put the phone up to my ear.

“Yeah?” he says quickly, answering after the fourth ring.

“Hey, it’s me, Lila” I say stupidly, and then roll my eyes at myself. We’ve talked to each other a thousand times on the phone, but it feels different now that we’ve had sex and I feel sort of nervous.

“Yeah, I know,” he replies in a rushed voice. “Your name came up on the screen.”

“Oh yeah, duh.” I coil a strand of my short hair around my finger, unsure how to react to his standoffish attitude. “Sorry, I’m being a little bit spacey, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t answer right away and I can hear someone talking in the background. A woman. London probably. “Did you need something?” he finally asks, distracted.

“Not really,” I say, unraveling my hair from my finger. “I was just sitting in my old room and suddenly thought of you.”

“You’re in your old room… why?”

“Because,” I start, but there’s a loud crash in the background and then it gets really loud with voices and rustles. “I’m sorry. You sound busy. I’ll just call back later.”

I expect him to argue a little, but instead he quickly says, “Okay, talk to you soon.” Then he hangs up.

I try not to sulk or let it get to me, because I’ve been so accustomed to guys blowing me off, but I wasn’t in love with them. And I had my pills. As the urge to cry over his brush-off overpowers me, I want to leave the room and go track down my mother’s stash, because she has them hidden all over the house.

“Jesus, Lila,” Ella calls out from the closet. “Is there a secret to putting the dress on… I can’t get the ribbon to tie.”

“Do you need my help?” I say starting to get up when the closet door opens and she walks out, the flowing dress swishing with her steps. It’s not tied and so it’s loose in the front, but she still looks beautiful. I instantly place my hand over my mouth and shake my head, my eyes welling up. “Oh my God, you look so beautiful.”

She swallows hard, glancing down at the dress, gripping some of the fabric in her hands. “I guess so.”

I lower my hands from my mouth. “You don’t sound happy. Do you not like the dress?”

“No, I like the dress.” She glances up at me, confused. “It just feels like there’s something missing.”

I move forward and fiddle with her hair. “It’s probably because you don’t have any makeup on and your hair’s not done, but we can get it done for the wedding.”

She shakes her head again, turning it to the side and looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall next to the vanity. She stares at herself forever and I can tell she’s about to cry. Sucking in a breath, she turns for the closet.

“I’m going to get out of it,” she mutters and then disappears into the closet, shutting the door.

I stand there for a moment, deciding whether or not to go in there and find out what’s wrong. She’s obviously hurting over something and I wonder if it’s something about Micha or her family. My best guess would be her family, since they’ve been the center of her problems in the past.

Deciding to go find out, I step forward toward the closet but stop when my mom walks into my room.

She’s wearing an unwrinkled cream-colored pencil skirt and silver satin blouse. Her heels match her shirt and the purse draped over her shoulder, the purse that I know holds her bottle of pills. Her blonde hair is done in a bun and it’s been a while since I’ve seen her, but the lack of wrinkles in her face probably mean she’s recently had Botox done.

“Jesus.” She stumbles back, surprised to see me and the heel of her shoe makes a streak across the shiny white-and-black marble floor. “How did you get in here?”

I clutch my hand around my phone, remembering the last time I saw her and my father and they both told me how stupid I was for moving to Vegas. That I was going to turn into nothing and that to my father I was already nothing, worthless, a huge massive disappointment that he wished had never been born. He didn’t want garbage like me in his house. Those were his exact words and that’s when I jumped into my car and drove back to Ella’s, making the decision to never see them again. And I’ve been good on my promise until today.

“I walked through the front door,” I say, regretting coming here, but Ella needed a dress. She deserves one, a good, pretty one that will make her feel special on her wedding day. Because whether she’ll admit it or not, almost every girl wants the perfect dress.

My mother stands in the doorway, looking me over as she grips the doorknob. “You look like shit, Lila. That T-shirt…” She makes a repulsed face. “And that godawful haircut. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” I tell her, eyeing her Botoxed face. “Other than I was sick of looking artificial.”

“Watch it, young lady,” she warns, letting go of the doorknob and stepping forward. “Or you won’t get what you came here for.”

I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows at her, unsure what she means. “And why did I come here?”

She waits, like she’s expecting me to give her the answer, when I don’t have a clue what’s going on. “So you finally took my advice and came back. Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about this, Lila.” She walks into the room, her head held arrogantly high as she takes in my appearance like I’m a sideshow circus freak. “Do you know how frustrated your father and I have been with your life choices lately?”

“Probably about as frustrated as you’ve been with them since I was born,” I say, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.

She purses her lips and places her hands on her hips as she reaches me—close enough, yet her eyes look so far away. “Lila Summers, you know the rules in this house. You won’t talk to me like that while you’re here.”