As quickly as I hurled myself to the edge of the bed, I return to the center and curl into the fetal position, grateful I switched out my dress for PJs earlier.
I let the tears flow.
The guilt hit.
And the fear blossom.
This time next week, you might be living in Montenegro…
My thoughts and fears coalesce into a big lump that blocks off my air again.
And that’s when I accept I have to cut it out. I can’t think about this. If I do, it’ll paralyze me, and I won’t allow that.
So, I shut it off like it’s a leaking faucet.
I’m under no illusions that a stray drop won’t fall from time to time, but anything is better than this deluge.
I close my eyes and fall asleep.
I don’t even care that I’ve missed a class when I next wake up.
Not only did I need the rest, I also needed to recalibrate the cerebral settings—a nap’s always good for that.
I hate that I’m relieved when I realize Shay’s not in the house.
I won’t be avoiding him again, but I feel better for having the room to grow into this new space where I’m not just a pampered mob princess… but someone with the capacity to end another’s life.
I nip the bridge of my nose, further relieved when my cell buzzes and distracts me.
Wynter: No pressure, but would you like to grab coffee?
She saw.
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek.
She knows.
I pinch my hand.
She could tell.
“Montenegro, Montenegro, Montenegro,” I chant as I type out:
Me: I don’t feel like leaving the house. But if you want to come to my place, Shay’s day is packed with classes and a session with the Oakwood College Council (he’s the treasurer) so we’d be alone.
Wynter: Oh, that’d be neat. Where do you live?
*Victoria sends live location*
Wynter: I’ll be there in five minutes
Me:
The last thing I feel like doing is rehashing yesterday evening’s events, but I need allies. Fuck, more than that, I need a friend.
“Stupid man,” I mutter. “Why did you have to return to NYC when I needed more hugs?”
And who the hell would have thought that Maxim’s hug game was strong enough to stave off a panic attack?
