Monsters of Manhattan

Chapter Twenty-One: Naked in New York

Cherry red. That’s all I saw. A cherry red ceiling.

Lying on Dr. Tolstoy’s thousand-dollar couch, I stared blankly at a cherry red ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time in the last month.

“How do you feel today, Miss Young?” Dr. Tolstoy asked as he looked at me through his thick, designer glasses.

How did I feel? Terrible. Frustrated. Sad. Stressed. Angry. Sick. The list went on and on.

I finally settled on one overwhelming emotion.

“Confused,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry?” 

“I feel confused,” I said once again.

Dr. Tolstoy’s eyebrows pressed together in confusion. It seemed like the emotion was spreading itself around the room. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Dr. Tolstoy cleared his throat and spoke, “Miss Young, I understand that you’ve suffered a terrible loss, and in order to heal, you must be honest with me.”

“I feel confused,” I stated again. Did he not know what confused meant? Where did this bigot earn his degree?

“Confused about?” Irritation was clear in the doctor’s voice.

“How I let my lies unfold right in front of me.” 

Dr. Tolstoy sat back and picked up his notepad from the coffee table.

“Why don’t we start from the beginning? Tell me about the moment you arrived back from Paris.”

“I-I don’t remember much.” The events after the jet had landed on American soil were blurry and unrelated to the confusion built in my head.

“He helped me up…” I said as I stared up into the endless ocean of cherry red.

“Who helped you up?” Dr. Tolstoy asked.

I remained silent. Dr. Tolstoy sighed in frustration.

“Miss Young, I cannot help you when you refuse to let me help you. I need you to tell me what is bothering you.”

A few minutes of silence followed, before I sat up, took a deep breath and began.

 “I---I helped someone get away with murder…"

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Two Months Prior

If looks could kill, I would be dead on the floor right about now. Justin, Lauren, Andrew, Ethan, and Amy all stared wide-eyed at me lying still upon Gotham Hall’s floor. Their eyes held no hatred that bestowed death on me. No. The pair of eyes that vowed for death were a soft, beautiful shades of hazel. 

“How dare you speak of my sister!” The hazel eyes’ owner spoke; spit escaped his perfectly pumped lips. 

“I-“ Words couldn’t escape my lips. My incoherency was triggered by the accuracy of Bentley’s words. How could I speak of his sister when I was responsible for the lack of justice done to her killer? Lauren and I both knew Amy had pushed Danielle Blackwell, causing her to trip, hit her head against a boulder and instantly die.

 “Bentley, we’ve been over this Chelsea doesn’t know what happened to your sister. They were in separate summer camps,” Ethan’s mother, Mrs. Wright, appeared next to her adopted son’s side. 

The Wrights had adopted Bentley the moment his parents died in a mysterious plane crash Bentley was supposed to be on. Lauren and I suspected Amy had something to do with it, but we both decided it was best if we didn’t look into it. We both had enough problems.

“Even if she didn’t know her, she shouldn’t speak of her. She bullied her own share of scholarship kids,” Bentley responds to the only woman in the Upper East Side that would adopt a child from Brooklyn.

“Ethan would bully them too, and soon you’ll see yourself bullying them. It’s evitable falling to the Upper East Side’s superficial ideals,” a male voice states. All eyes turn towards my half-brother, Andrew.

Before Bentley could respond, Andrew continued, “However, this is neither the time nor place to be speaking of what happened to your sister, nor the disgusting tactics Upper East Siders do in order to ridicule the less fortunate.”

Without muttering another word, Bentley turned on the heel of his feet and walked away. The crowd that had formed around us scattered and began whispered among each other. Andrew held out a hand towards me, but Ethan stopped him.

“A man should never pick up another man’s girl,” he stated. A small smile appeared on Andrew’s lips as Ethan helped me to my feet.

“She’s my sister, Ethan, I doubt people would whisper if I helped my own sister get back on her feet,” Andrew playfully teased.

Ethan, however, dismissed Andrew’s playful manner. “You’ll be surprised what some people might say….or do.”

Without uttering a single word or taking a glance, Ethan disappeared back into the whispering crowd.

“What was that about?” Andrew questioned as I dusted off my expensive dress. 

“He’s upset that I seen Logan when we were in Paris,” I replied, knowing Andrew would disapprove.

 “I told you to stay away from that vile human being. Thank god he did not show his idiotic face today, I would have crushed it.”

 I sighed. My brother needed to relax. I knew the problems I had did not have positive solutions, but at the moment I wanted to avoid them as much as I could.

-----------------

“Goodnight, Chelsea!” Zach Dylan yelled from the limousine has he and the rest of our friends rode away. I waved goodbye as I entered my apartment building.

The lights were off in my shared suite with Ethan, and as I reached for the light switch, I heard the sound of rustling and then a thumped, followed by a familiar giggle.

Curious, I left the lights off and headed towards the master bedroom, where the noise was coming from. I turned the ivory door handle thinking of the worst, but what met by eyes, as I opened the bedroom door, was far worse than I could imagine. Logan and Amy were naked in my bed!

They both turned and stared at me with a smirk plastered on their faces.

“Well, don’t just stand there, Chelsea. Join us!” Logan encouraged. Amy sat quiet, prepared to judge my next move.

Without any hesitation, I slammed the door shut and yanked my cellphone out of my purse, dialing Ethan’s number as fast as I could.

He answered on the first ring. 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“Why the HELL is your cousin in our apartment with Logan?” I angrily hissed. Ethan had something to do with this. I knew he wanted to piss me off for meeting Logan in Paris, when he had specifically asked me not to.  

“He said you invited him over,” Ethan lied. His voice always held a certain tone when he lied.

“How about we tell each other the truth tonight, Ethan. I am too tired and annoyed for another game.”

After a long period of silence, Ethan replied, “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Thank you,” I said, almost hanging up on him before hearing his last words.

 “Oh, and Chelsea?” He said.

 “Yes?”

 “I want a divorce.”

 The line went silent.