Dose 𝓣wenty

Dose Twenty Observations:
Subject appears to have a breakdown. Noted as: incapable of processing new information.

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I stood there silently.

For approximately twelve seconds.

I counted them in my head.

Then I determined I was insane for even coming out here, so I pushed myself away from the wall, walking over to the doors I had snuck out past just moments ago.

I was too late.

They had already been cracked open just slightly—enough room for her to slide her small frame through the opening.

I was stuck in place, almost stupidly.

The air suddenly felt sucked out of this gigantic hallway.

And there was this heavier silence.

I was breathing.

I think I was breathing.

But every inhale felt shorter, like my lungs were suddenly incapable of their only duty.

“Hi,” Monroe said first, her head tilted at me like I had been staring at her for too long.

I probably have.

“Hey,” I breathed out, blinking a few times as I smoothed my warm palms against the cold embellishments of my silver gown.

“Hi,” she said again, her deep blue eyes trailing my face in a way that made the air just a little warmer.

Her voice was so soft, delicate even.

“Your parents are assholes,” I blurted before I could think it through, trying my best to find some kind of topic to discuss.

And not look at her in that dress.

Her face was practically glowing, though.  

I was better off not looking at her at all.

“They are,” Monroe didn’t hesitate to agree with me.

“I lied,” I suddenly forced out, furrowing my brows at how stupid I was being.

“I know,” she calmly determined, her stare nearly burning into mine. “Which instance are you admitting to?”

“Are you accusing me of lying multiple times?” I asked, my glossed lips parting offensively.

“Are you claiming there haven’t been multiple instances, Liberty?” she asked, her lips twitching up just slightly.

And I knew lying would only contradict myself in this current topic I had cornered myself into.

“Your dress,” I murmured, purposely changing the subject. “I do have some sort of issue—small issue.”

“Is that so?” Monroe asked, her amusement growing.

It wasn’t the expression on her face.

No.

There was barely even a faint smile on her lips.

It was her eyes—how she looked at me, the way she tilted her head just slightly.

It made my face burn up.

“I don’t like this,” I determined, taking a step forward as I motioned to the slit that exposed her smooth leg.

I unintentionally paused, eyeing her leg, nearly glistening from whatever lotion or oil she wore.

Then there was her sudden floral scent wrapping around me.

It was the space I previously closed between us.

The large step forward I took allowed me to inhale her scent in the first place.

I fucked myself by doing it.  

 I glanced up from her leg, my mouth suddenly dry and my lips parted with nothing to say.

“Liberty.”

Her voice was a soft echo in my ears, her blue eyes nearly making me dizzy.

Or maybe it was the champagne buzzing through my veins.

“And this,” I forced out in a whisper, glancing down at her chest. “I fucking hate this,” I admitted, drawing in the sharpest breath.

“This doesn’t seem like a small issue,” Monroe just had to say, her velvety voice almost teasing me.

I let out the roughest breath, shaking my head as I openly stared at her soft chest, “I’m really irritated—you irritate me.”

“You’re frustrated,” Monroe corrected me, her tone entirely patient with me. “I’ve frustrated you, Liberty.”

I nodded wordlessly. “Yeah,” I breathed out, furrowing my brows slightly. “Sarah—she, I pushed everything off her desk.”

“Sarah?” she echoed the name, and even if I was too busy staring at her chest, I knew she was confused.

“Your assistant,” I clarified bluntly, my face burning even worse at what happened yesterday. “They call her your shadow—I told her that. She claims she caters to your needs, and it’s weird. I told her it’s weird and that she’s not your girlfriend—”

“Hey,” Monroe suddenly whispered, cutting my breathless rant short.

It allowed me to draw in a breath, finally, squeezing my hands by my sides.

“She said I wasn’t either, and I’m not—I’m not, and I don’t know why I said anything,” I sighed with furrowed brows.

I heard Monroe sigh softly.

And then…

I felt her.

The softness of her hand on my bare shoulder.

Enough to send these weird tingles down my spine, especially when she delicately traced her fingers against my shoulder.

It was gentle, featherlight even, leaving goosebumps in her wake as she cupped the side of my neck.

She didn’t pull me closer.

I knew she wanted to, but I also knew she wanted me to lean in.

There was this heaviness in the air between our bodies—begging to be closed.

I leaned in.

I didn’t even give myself any time to contemplate it.

I just had to be against her.

I wanted to feel her, even if I would regret it later.

She felt as warm as I recalled, especially with my cheek pressed against her bare chest, letting out the most relieved sigh of my life.

“Tell me you completely ruined her desk,” Monroe softly whispered in my ear, subtly sliding her arm around my lower waist.

I smiled slightly, “I did,” I said proudly, keeping my arms by my sides. “She yelled at me. She called me crazy.”

“Crazy-crazy girl,” Monroe tsked with admiration, gently caressing her thumb against the side of my neck.

“Don’t get me started on Briggszilla,” I whispered, smiling even wider. “I compared her to a pumpkin tonight.”

“My god,” Monroe chuckled softly, her arm tightening around my waist, “Liberty.”

“I know,” I snickered, finally wrapping my arms around her waist.

I smiled even wider when Monroe chuckled again, the sound vibrating through both of our bodies.

“You should’ve heard what I said yesterday. I threatened to stab her with one of my heels,” I continued to fill her in. “But she called them stripper heels first, and she dragged me down the hallway when—”

“Excuse me?” Monroe cut me short, the amusement void from her tone.

It made me purse my lips, “It wasn’t like that. I mean, it was annoying, but your father told me to come along, and I wouldn’t, and yeah, Kara just pulled me along.”

Monroe pulled back slightly, giving me a view of her face.

She looked serious.

Not calm.

Just serious.

“It’s not a big deal,” I smiled slightly. “And I got her back.”

Monroe blinked once.

Then again.

Her expression was entirely blank.

It was unsettling and all too familiar at the same time.

“She touched you,” she bluntly stated, her stare shifting down to my arms still wrapped around her. “Yes?”

I nodded hesitantly, my brows furrowing slightly. “Yeah,” I said, wondering what was going through her head. “It’s not that serious. And I got her back, Monroe.”

“Any instance involving you is serious,” Monroe emphasized, her eyes trailing my other arm. “I take it very seriously, Liberty.”

“Okay,” I said, my brows furrowing deeper.

Because I didn’t know what to say.

I knew she was bothered, and I didn’t know how to fix that.

It’s not my job to fix it.

Not anymore.

It’s not anymore.

Fuck.

“I’m sure there’s a bathroom nearby, right?” I suddenly said, eyeing the pale pink dress tailored to her body. “Five minutes?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

I also wanted to position myself under the dress I once claimed to have issues with.

I would feel better then.

“Liberty,” Monroe said, her soft voice full of warning as I traced my hand up her spine. “Not until a proper discussion.”

I tilted my head back dramatically, finally meeting her stare. “Come on.”

“There’s too much you aren’t aware of,” Monroe emphasized, pulling me closer by my neck. “And now my father has this proposition.”

“One that you seem to have your mind made up on already,” I mumbled, giving her a narrowed look.

“Surely, you don’t want to make any kind of side deal with them?” she asked, her face just inches from mine. “Or involve your mother deeper in this.”  

“Deeper?” I asked, wondering what she meant by that. “What do they want? How is she involved?”

Monroe was silent.

Tensely silent.

It made me pull back from her slightly, suddenly aware of how heavy my heart felt in my chest with each beat.

Why is she looking at me like that?

“Everything happened long before that night,” Monroe finally spoke again, her voice in a soft whisper between us.

“What does that even mean?” I asked, tugging my arms away from her waist. “Stop looking at me like that.”

I’ve never seen her so fucking remorseful, and it’s making me feel weird.

It’s making my stomach twist and not in a good way.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” she determined, making me scoff.

“My mother—she’s involved. You’re saying she’s involved?” I emphasized with furrowed brows, so much disbelief on my face.  

Monroe drew in a deep breath, reaching up from my neck to cup my cheek.

But all I could do was lean away, pressing my hands against her arms.

“Stop,” I bluntly said, “Stop doing this.”

“Your mother made a deal with them. They threatened her career—”

“Stop,” I repeated again, glancing away from her entirely. “No,” the word fell limply from my lips, pulling back from her hold.

I can’t do this.

I don’t want to know.

“They called her on the way to the cabin, Liberty,” she whispered softly, yet her words felt so heavy.

And painful.

They made my chest hurt.

And my stomach twist even deeper.

I felt like I could throw up.

They called her on the way to the cabin.

Does that mean none of it was real?

She wasn’t there for me?

She was there for her career?

She… she was there to lie and pretend like the rest of them?

“Liberty,” Monroe said the moment I turned away from her, rushing down the hallway away from her.

I didn’t know where I was planning to go.

I just didn’t want to be here.

I couldn’t be here and have this fucking conversation with her.

We were never supposed to have this conversation.

“Liberty,” her voice echoed just steps away from me, her heels clicking in sync with mine.

It made me speed up my steps, fully running away from her as I tugged my gown up from dragging against the glossy floors, reflecting my frantic expression back at me.

“We can’t keep putting this conversation off,” Monroe’s voice spilled into my ears, and I could hear her heels clicking even faster.

She’s running?

She’s running after me.

She never chases me, yet she chooses now. She chooses this moment out of them all.

“We’re not going to keep avoiding this,” she spoke again as I ran even faster, my breaths deep and frantic as I tried my best to make it to those tall wooden doors at the end of the hallway.

I swear the moment I made it to them, I didn’t hesitate to push the doors open, rushing out past them—

Into a downpour of rain.

It sent a shock through me.

It also made a cry burn in my chest as the heavy droplets drenched my hair and completely ruined my dress in barely two seconds.

The perfectly curated look I spent so much time on was gone, washed away with the Seattle rainfall.

“We never reconciled,” I forced out, pressing my shaky hands to my face.

I could hear her heels among the heavy downpour that pattered furiously against us and the slick pavement of the empty side parking lot.

“She never wanted to be in my life again,” I whispered weakly, dropping my hands from my face with a pathetic sigh.

Monroe stood there, drenched head to toe.

Her wet hair was plastered around her face, especially her bangs that stuck to her forehead.

The rain darkened her pale dress, clinging to every inch of her body and exposing her to my eyes.

Heavy droplets rolled down her face and traced the sharp lines of her jaw.

Yet she didn’t flinch or move to shield herself.

She just looked at me—the streetlight behind her cast a faint halo around her figure, like the universe was mocking me for ever thinking I could live without her.

She looked almost unworldly, entirely too composed for this rainstorm around us.

“I tried. I wanted that reality for you, Liberty,” she finally spoke, raising her voice over the rain. “All you ever wanted was a relationship with her.”

I shook my head frantically, tears burning in my eyes. “Not like this. How could you lie to me over this, Monroe?” I asked, my voice nearly echoing all around us as I took an angry step toward her.

“They told your mother to approve of us,” she explained over the loudness of the rainfall. “She was told to reconcile with you to make our union easier. They would ruin her reputation otherwise. And yours as well, Liberty.”

“I don’t care. Do you think I care about a fucking reputation?” I forced out, my voice rising in volume as I stared at her despite the rain coming down so heavily that it was hard to keep my eyes open.

Monroe shook her head. “They would’ve made you sound insane. They would’ve made you sound like her—” she cut herself short, glancing down at the pavement as her shoulders stiffened.

It made me draw in a deep breath, realizing she was referring to Talia.

Her first arrangement.

The woman her parents removed after it all got to be too much.

“Maris didn’t want to cooperate with the deal anymore. They kept adding terms. They wanted lenient drug laws, as they had discussed years prior,” Monroe spoke over the heavy rain, finally glancing up from the pavement.

I watched her chest rise, her eyes frantically tracing my face.

“Your mother lied about your dad,” she rushed out, her tone frantic for once. “My parents never offered any kind of drug for the cancer he had. They were in on a deal with your mother, and they cut her out of it. That’s why she resented them.”

“Oh my god,” I breathed out, pressing my hands to my wet forehead. “Oh my god,” I repeated weakly, tears blurring everything around me.

How could she do that?

How could she lie about him?

My dad was never even involved.

Did she say that to get fucking sympathy points?

As a governor, she knew what angle to hit, I’ll give her that.

“Maris called me the night my parents went after Kaia. She had backed out of their deal, so they retaliated,” Monroe continued, and I could suddenly feel her arms around me, holding me before I could realize I was leaning unsteadily. “I had to make a decision. I had to choose your greater good, even if it was away from me. I had to lie to you. I needed you to hate me.”

I shook my head rapidly, unable to say a single word.

Not with the tears heavy in my eyes.

It was because of my mother.

They went after Kaia because of her—because she couldn’t follow-through with the stupid deal she made with them in the first place.

It was never Monroe.

I hated her for nothing.

I hated her for covering up something my mother was behind the whole time.

“They would leave you alone if you hated me. If I took over Levane,” she emphasized as her arms tightened around my waist.

My body trembled, whether it was from the cold rain or her words, I didn’t know.

I just needed to focus on counting my numbers despite everything she just admitted.  

I needed to count to ten.

But they don’t serve a purpose anymore.

Fuck, they need to serve a purpose.

“They don’t matter—the numbers don’t matter,” I weakly cried out, my hands trembling against my forehead. “The numbers, Monroe. I need the numbers.”

“Liberty, hey-hey,” she quickly said, grabbing the side of my neck to align my stare with hers through the heavy rain droplets. “Squeeze your hands for me.”

“The numbers,” I forced out, squeezing my hands as tightly as possible as broken sobs vibrated in my throat. “I need. I need them.”

“Okay, yes, the numbers,” her voice echoed above the heavy rain.

“I can’t,” I squeaked out, pressing my face into her chest. “I can’t count them—they don’t matter, and-and…” I trailed off, a sob echoing from my lips. “You’re hurting me. This is hurting me.”

“Better than them hurting you,” Monroe said, firmly pulling me closer despite the heavy rainfall.

I sobbed harder, my arms crumpled against my chest as she hugged me closer.

“One,” I heard her voice echo. “Two,” she counted next.

Then it was three.

And four.

By the time she got to five—I was lifted into her arms, my uncontrollable cries more spaced out with each number she calmly said aloud.

I wasn’t even sure when we made it to her car.

All I recalled was her lowering me down into the familiar cushioned seat, the interior smell of her familiar Bentley all around me.

I was shivering, my sobs faded into nothing but hiccuped sniffles.

Monroe turned on the car as soon as she slid into the driver’s seat beside me, turning on the heat and seat warmers immediately.

I didn’t say a word.

But she still grabbed my hand.

She never let go—she only squeezed hers around mine, keeping her presence known as she continued counting for me.

It soothed me as I listened and anticipated each number, suddenly feeling like they mattered again.

She made them matter.

“Where do you want me to take you, darling?” Monroe finally spoke as I stared forward, drenched in rain with the heat blasting on me.

The familiar pet name made me relax just a little more.

“Home,” I forced out.

“Where is home for you?” she softly asked me.  

My bottom lip trembled as I thought about him, seeing his face flash so vividly in my head.

But he’s gone.

And so is she.

Maris will never be that version of herself again.

The one who smiled by my dad’s side.

The one who left silly notes in my lunches or hugged me every chance she got.

Maybe he brought that out of her.

Maybe I never did.

“My apartment,” I forced out, thinking of Jynx.

I wanted to be with her right now.

And I knew I didn’t need to tell Monroe the address.

I’m sure she already knew.

“Are you hungry?” Monroe calmly asked me, flicking on her signal. “Do you need anything?”

“Time,” I said without a further thought, “I just want to be alone for a while,” I forced out weakly, even if I did want her to stay.

I wanted to be around her.

But this is so much, and I feel the urge to push everyone and everything away.

I needed to be alone.

“Take as much time as you need,” she murmured, squeezing her soft hand tighter around mine. “Only if you come to me once you're done taking time, Liberty.”

I remained silent for a moment, staring down at our hands resting on my leg.

“What does this mean now?” I whispered with furrowed brows, drawing in the deepest breath.

I didn’t know what to think—how to feel, or even process this.

“Nothing you’re going to figure out right now,” Monroe determined for me, “Take your time. Then we’ll circle back.”

I nodded silently, unable to even string together a response.

My head hurts.

And everything that happened months ago feels different.

That night feels different.

It’s now hazier than I recalled, especially as I tried to piece together everything I just learned.

I was silent the rest of the drive, and Monroe let me.

She didn’t ask me questions or say a single word.

She let me process everything that I wish I had known sooner.

Regret.

That was the next feeling that set in, wondering why I refused to let her tell me.

I knew why.

I knew I had spent months hurting over this, and the real events of what happened that night would change everything.

But fuck, did I wish I knew sooner.

I was stupid—really fucking stupid.

I let my hurt keep me blind, and now all I can do is regret it.

No wonder my mother was so set on getting me away from them.

Her lies were at risk.

So was her career if I got fully involved with the Leclairs again.

They would want to make another deal again, and I think that’s what Leon’s proposition is.

Monroe said it would involve my mother deeper.

“I’m good,” I quickly said as soon as Monroe unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’ll walk up on my own.”

Monroe paused, her blue eyes burning into the side of my face as I undid my seatbelt.

“I don’t feel comfortable letting you go up alone,” she stated bluntly.

I didn’t say anything in response.

I just glanced over at her, my stare finally connecting with hers.

Her hair was still wet, and the messiest I had seen it in a while, especially with some pieces flattened against the sides of her face.

I was silent for a few beats, contemplating my thoughts as I stared at her.

Everything felt different.  

I leaned forward before I could contemplate any further, delicately pressing my lips to the edge of her cheekbone.

I could feel her stiffen just slightly under my touch, making the moment feel tenser than it already was.

The kiss was fleeting, but I swear it felt longer.

Almost like time slowed as my lips grazed her skin.

“Thank you for everything,” I whispered into her ear before I pulled away.

Monroe nodded once with furrowed brows, her blue eyes following me as I leaned away.

I quickly opened the door and slid out of the wet passenger seat of her Bentley.

My wet hair was now in curls, dripping down my back.

I assumed my makeup probably looked horrid too, but I didn’t care.

I just needed to see my Jynxie and spend a few days in bed, eating food that was terrible for me while I binge-watched a comfort show.

Then, once I take my time…

I’ll talk to Monroe.

A deep sigh fell from my lips as soon as I pushed the door to my apartment open, walking inside and quickly sliding my slippery heels off.

I could hear Jynx’s soft paws patter against the floor, immediately making a weak smile grow on my lips.

“Jynxie,” I murmured softly, walking over to her immediately.

She meowed, her blue eyes staring up at me like I looked crazy.

I probably did look fucking crazy, standing in my wet dress with smeared makeup and dripping curls.

I couldn’t pick her up like this.

I needed to shower and change into dry clothes.  

“Come on,” I told her, motioning her along as I walked past the kitchen.

My brows furrowed the moment I noticed a small white envelope left on the island, halting my walking immediately.

I glanced around, my head turning sharply in both directions.

Someone’s been here.

They were inside my apartment.

It never mattered to me before—I mean, it did… it scared me sure.

But now that Jynx is here, it fucking terrifies me that any stranger would be in here with her.

I briefly glanced down at Jynx, sitting calmly by my feet.

It made me draw in a deep breath, feeling my heart beating rapidly in my chest as I finally looked over at the envelope.

I impatiently ripped it open, sliding the small notecard out and reading the three words printed on it.

Don’t trust them.

That’s all it said in black bold letters.

There was nothing else—not even a name.

It wasn’t handwritten either.

It looked like it had been typed and printed out.

I knew who this notecard was referring to.

The Leclair’s.

The question is—

Who left it?