Page 95 of Shattered Obsession

Just the parking lot. A car driving off. A leaf blowing across pavement.

My knees weaken with relief.

Sometimes survival looks like this—not bravery, not strength, just a girl proving to herself she can still open the blinds.

I try to breathe evenly—inhale, count four, and exhale—but my lungs refuse to cooperate. Anxiety has a way of making your own body feel like an enemy.

I walk room to room, double-checking locks that were already checked. I pull the curtains tighter. Turn on extra lamps because darkness feels like vulnerability. Bella follows me like a soldier, tail low, reading every shift in my energy.

“You’re okay,” I whisper to her. “We’re okay.”

I don’t believe a word. Soft music spills from the speakers. The soothing melodies mean to blanket the stillness, but they’re a futile distraction. I curl up on the couch with Bella, my faithful companion who anchors me to the moment, her head a comforting weight on my thigh.

Isla’s texts ping vibrantly, each message laden with little jokes, funny memes, and heart emojis. I force myself to reply, scrabbling for normalcy, trying to convince myself that everything is okay. But my gaze frequently drifts to the window, where the shadows outside seem to stretch ominously against the glass. The candle flickers as the air shifts again, a telltale sign that sets my nerves on edge. I hear noise outside—a car door, perhaps? My muscles tense involuntarily, an instinctual response to the unknown. Bella stirs, lifting her head, her ears twitching at every little sound. She emits a low, wary whine that matches the tumult in my chest.

“It’s probably nothing,” I whisper to myself, but the words feel hollow. Probably just a neighbor coming home.

Probably.

Three sharp knocks thud against my front door. I freeze, my breath hitching in my throat. Adrenaline hits like electricity—cold, spiking, paralyzing.

The room seems to tilt, the edges vibrating.

My heartbeat becomes thunder in my ears, drowning out logic.

Fight, flight, freeze.

My body chooses for me.

Freeze. An unsettling dryness tightens my vocal cords, rendering me mute. My phone is in my hand before I consciously process the action. My thumb hovers over Xander’s name, trembling as I hit dial. The line rings once, twice, three times, but goes unanswered. Panic nudges at the edges of my mind, and I hang up, dialing again. Straight to voicemail.

“Pick up, pick up, please,” I mutter desperately, pacing the room, my heart pounding violently against my rib cage, filling the ominous silence.

Another knock reverberates through the air, slower this time, deliberate. I grab the pepper spray from my purse.

The one Xander insisted on buying.

“Just humor me,” he said. I teased him for being paranoid.

Now my hand shakes so badly I drop it.

Fear isn’t cinematic.

It’s clumsy.

Uncoordinated.

Messy.

Bella growls.

Everything inside me screams ‘don’t move’.

If I stay still, maybe the danger won’t notice me.

But danger already knows my name.

A cold wave washes over me. I call Xander again, my voice splintering at the edges even though I know he’s not there, my lifeline still lost in the sterile void of silence.