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“What about him?”
“He’s mad?—”
“Hale’s always mad when he doesn’t have complete control over a situation. Text him that you’re safe and tell him you’ll call him after we get some sleep.”
My brain was working really hard yet I couldn’t decide what to do. There were definitely still drugs in my system.
“How do you spell safe? My keyboard doesn’t have an F.”
“I’m going this way. Are you coming or not?”
I panicked and hit send. “Wait up.”
My Life is an Endless Screech
I can’t recall the day I was born. I have no memories of the labor or my body contorting through my mother’s in order to enter a new world. I don’t remember the shock or the struggle to breathe.
Was there fear? Probably. Confusion? Absolutely. I imagine there were screams and pain and a great deal of pressure.
I’ve also never had a baby, so I can’t speak on such experiences from a maternal point of view. But I can say, with 99.9 percent certainty, that neither birth nor labor would have been one-fifth as traumatic as what I awoke to that next day.
The first moments were a blur of blinding pain, confusion, bodily dysfunction, more confusion, throbbing pain, and disorientation. And confusion.
Did I mention confusion?
Barrett—not Hale—bolted upright, scaring the shit out of me. Nothing was right. He was in my bed, missing hair, and naked! From there everything spiraled into mayhem.
There was so much screaming.
“What the fuck did you do?” Barrett yelled.
My throbbing head shook. His hair, the tattoo, the weird clothes, the ungodly fucking stench of it all. I had no explanation for any of it. But Hale was on his way and my heart was pounding out of my chest as I panicked and tried to think of a way to explain this.
“I didn’t?—”
“Where’s my fucking hair, Rayne?” He ransacked the suite.
“Maybe this is a new look for you—” I shut my mouth when he stormed toward me, detached sad, little man-bun swinging from his fist.
“You. Cut. My. Fucking. Hair.”
I held up my hands in a gesture of peace. “Memories are a little sketchy, but I’m pretty sure you were on board with it.”
“I’m going to fucking murder you!”
“Barrett—”
We silenced as there was a knock on the door and Hale’s voice cut through the chaos, “Rayne?”
My heart plummeted fast and hard enough to leave me woozy with fear. I covered my mouth, wondering if I was about to get sick right there on the carpet. It was too late. This wasn’t happening. What was I going to do?
I’d never been so physically unhinged by my reality. “That’s Hale. You have to hide.”
“No.”
“Barrett, please. If he finds you here?—”
“Let him.”
