and call it a night. After showering, I sit in the makeshift window nook and try to open a book to read, but every time I do, I can’t seem to focus. I keep replaying the events of the whole day. Seeing my ruined flowers, arguing with Roman, dealing with Travis’s sexual advances.
With a huff of frustration, I toss the book onto the cushion and climb into bed, deciding it’s best to call it a night. I can only hope tomorrow will turn out much better than today, because today was definitely one for the shit books.
I’m awoken sometime in the middle of the night to the sound of a crash. I stir in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It takes me a few moments to process, but when I finally do, I stiffen, and my heartrate spikes.
There’s the faint sound of glass trickling against the wood floors, and my breath gets caught in my throat, when I hear the heavy thud of boots. My eyes widen, and sweat beads on my forehead.
There’s someone in my house.
Someone is breaking into my house!
Fear squeezes my chest. My stomach drops painfully, as I toss the covers back, as silently as possible, trying to remain quiet. Once my bare feet touch the wood floor, I glance at my closed bedroom door, listening closely for any other sounds. I’m just about to reach for my cell phone, when a bright light turns on next door.
My heart pounds erratically, when I spot Roman glance out of his bedroom window, his gaze colliding with mine instantly. Faintly, I can hear Max barking in the background. Whatever he sees on my face has him whirling around and disappearing out of sight. Something crashes in my living room, and I jump, a shriek of fear tearing past my lips. The thudding of boots gets closer and grows stronger, and I reach for my phone. My hands tremble, as I dial 911.
An alarming tightness grips my chest, squeezing my heart and making it hard to breathe. I’ve been here before. I know what causes it, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to calm down enough to push the sensation away. Tears of fear trickle down my cheeks, and when the line connects, I’m so out of breath, I can hardly get the words past my lips. There’s a heavy weight on my sternum, a vise grip on my lungs, keeping them from expanding and bringing much-needed oxygen into my body. I slide down the wall, onto the floor, and I claw the pads of my fingers into the material of my pajama pants, trying to work through the pain. Trying to breathe.
My vision swims from lack of oxygen, that black tunnel coming toward me at lightning speed.
The bedroom door suddenly flies open, and I choke. I can’t even scream for help, because I have no oxygen to do so. But I don’t need to scream for help, because the man who is frantically glancing around my room, eyes wide with panic, isn’t anyone I need to fear. It’s Rome.
When he spots me on the floor, tears streaked down my face, barely able to breathe, he runs to my side. Dropping to his haunches before me, he takes my face in his hands, his wild blue eyes searching mine frantically.
“Olivia, are you hurt?”
I open my mouth to respond, to assure him that I’m okay, but no sound comes out. His mouth pinches together in a grim line, and he starts checking me over. Raking his gaze up and down my body, he looks for any signs that I’m hurt. When he can’t find anything out of place, his grip on my face tightens.
“Olivia, babe. I need you to say something. Are you okay?”
All I can manage to do is nod, no words still coming from my mouth. I need my pills. Christ, I need my pills.
“Bathroom,” I wheeze. His eyes widen at my request, but he helps me to my feet, and I all but stumble into the master bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I throw open the mirror cabinet and fumble through the abundance of pill bottles. My hands tremble violently, as I search for the right one. When I do find it, the pills rattle against the bottle, as I work to get it open. I swallow the pill, forcing it down my throat, hoping it’ll help calm the tightness in my chest.
I collapse onto the toilet seat, and I rest my