God, she was sick of this. Sick of him. Sick of his tiny little pea-brained, one-sided take on her and
every other woman in this hellhole.
"You see everything in black and white, don't you?" Ariana snapped, her blood rising.
"And what you did was somehow gray?" he retorted.
"I'm not in denial. I know what I did and I'm sorry for it," Ariana said, her words clipped. "But I
can't stay here forever. This isn't how its supposed to be...."
She was supposed to go to Princeton. Supposed to take the train up to Yale to visit Noelle on
weekends, or into the city to club-hop with Kiran and Taylor. Supposed to join a secret society.
Supposed to hobnob with literary geniuses. Supposed to graduate magna cum laude and snag the
job as features editor at Vanity Fair. Supposed to live in a loft in Chelsea and meet some gorgeous
artsy man who would sweep her off her feet and take her to exotic places like Thailand and India
and Sri Lanka. Supposed to be proposed to on a mountaintop as the sun set in the distance.
Supposed to have babies and take them home to Georgia to visit her family's estate and sit out on
the porch and sip lemonade and watch them play tag under the same peach tree she used to climb
when she was little.
This was her life. Her life the way it was supposed to be. It couldn't be over. The very thought
made her heart constrict to the point where she actually thought she might stop breathing.
Actually thought she might die over the futility of it all.
274
These were her dreams. Her mother's dreams. They couldn't be over. Not because of--
"One mistake," she said again.
Dr. Meloni stared at her. She was gripping the arms of her chair now, her heart pounding. As he
stared, Ariana realized that she had just shown emotion for the first time in a year and a half of
these daily sessions. She had let the pressure get to her. And Meloni was now smiling.
"One little mistake that ended someone else's life," he said.
I know. I know this. I see him every night. Every night as I start to fall asleep. Every night I jolt
awake in an ice-cold sweat. I haven't really slept in almost two years. Isn't that torture enough?
"I just want to start over," Ariana mumbled, sounding desperate to her own ears. She straightened
her posture and stated it more firmly. "I just want to be able to start over."
Dr. Meloni leaned back in his chair and let out an amused yet frustrated-sounding groan. He