Elena Undone Read Online Free Page A

time had gone by, all her daily rituals had become her reality and a great deal of her rational mind had finally come to the conclusion that she truly had gone insane. Yet, here she was, on the printed page. She finally knew herself. A person who had severe and chronic OCD. Breathing deeply, she finally owned her disorder or condition—what it was didn’t even matter to her any longer. Because now she could understand it.
    The next day she made an appointment with one of the psychiatrists listed in the back of the book who all specialized in OCD and Panic Disorders. She met with the rather slight and strange little fellow by the name of Dr. James at the very first appointment he could give her. But within moments the kindness in his eyes, the warmth of his smile put her at ease. Unlike any doctor she had ever known, this gentle man called her daily to check in with her and he made her feel immediately safe with his thorough knowledge and guidance. He was used to patients dropping their medication due to the side effects, which Peyton had to agree were onerous. “The pills can’t do anything for you in the bottle,” Dr. James stated a number of times when he called to check on her progress. But along with medication, and the next year in therapy, Peyton finally began to fully under kn fully stand the mechanics of her OCD. She felt like a new woman—the best version of herself she could be. She had lived for eight long years crippled by this disorder, narrowing her life experience to a pure subsistence of writing and swimming maniacally, rarely going out, joining her best friend Wave for rare social outings, but mostly holed up inside, reading in the few free moments her rigid schedule allowed. And then she had found freedom.
    It was during her second year of adjusting to life in a more normal manner that she decided to tackle the project of writing her personal memoir. Her agent had said it was sort of like the new AA—everyone seemed to be coming out of the closet and baring their soul about one syndrome or another. Regardless of Emily’s crass pitch, Peyton wrote the book to speak to all the other people out there who had been suffering as she had, so they would know there was a way out—and if there was anyone she could keep from suffering even a second longer, she was determined to do so. For Peyton, taking care of her OCD was as life-affirming as a drunk quitting the bottle.
    Her memoir, Trust, Who Needs It? — An Agoraphobic’s Memoir hit number two on the Self-Help Book List the first week it was out and soon thereafter number one. Peyton won numerous awards and a bit of notoriety, she dated another well-known out lesbian in the entertainment industry and within the worlds of OCD junkies and lesbians she had a weird melting pot of fans, and was noted in Curve as a “celesbian on the rise.”
    The fact was that OCD was a condition one learned to live with. Medication helped Peyton’s remarkably intense panic attacks to all but vanish. Her OCD, however, flared up on a regular basis depending on how much stress she had to endure and at this juncture, she had learned when to give in and let the ritual double-checking take over…sometimes it just was easier to cave, get it over with and get on with life. As she did now, lining up the pens for the ninth time. Nine was her number and she always performed her rituals in three sets of three. As she was finalizing this last set of three she heard the silky voice.
    She knew before she even turned around that Margaret would be dressed in something seductive. As she began to swivel, very slowly to resist what she knew was coming, she saw her in the corner of her eye. Sure enough, the svelte and exceedingly attractive Margaret was clad in lacy attire. With her Marilyn Monroe tousled blond hair, her eerily transparent blue eyes, Peyton could feel before she saw Margaret’s come-fuck-me leer. Margaret was known to be assertive, or “a bloody hounddog!” noted Wave, and