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Coat stand, bathroom, bed, loveseat, closet.Once more just for good measure. Her eyes lingered around the loveseat and the bed, the big places someone could be hiding, then the closet and bathroom doors. Both open, like she always left them.
Yet Katie's pulse didn’t ease up this time. The tingles in her hands didn’t fade out. Too many reminders of her past glared back: the dresses hanging in the closet, the light from her phone blinking up out of the pillows, her curtains fluttering as the AC turned on.
The curtains? Why the curtains? Breathe…breath..curtains? What?
Katie’s pupils locked on to the hem of her pale blue curtains, watching the fabric sway a few inches above the floor. There had been curtains that night. Not pretty and airy like hers, but heavy and beige-colored, with a swirly pattern embroidered in the same shade. The hem brushing across the floor. Not the cheap wood of her studio. Plush carpet.
So what?Breathe, think…breathe and think.
Neither of those things happened. Katie opened her mouth. She gulped. She sucked. But no air came in, and without oxygen, her brain couldn’t function.
The curtain? Why the curtain? Why even think of that?
Her tingly fingers clenched into fists, a second too late to stop the prickles from spreading up into her arms. Her shoulders hunched forward, her body curling up into a protective ball.
Breathe…think. Breathe…remember. Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I breathe?
There were so many details she’d been unable to remember from that night, from the big ones that Dr. Walton had tried to pull from her subconscious, to the tiniest of details. She couldn’t remember the taste of the wine or the look on Kyle’s face across the table. She couldn’t recall what she ate for dessert or what time they met up or why she’d agreed to do anything he asked…So why worry about the curtain?
She couldn’t get there. The closer she got to figuring out what she was missing, the further away it drifted. Katie squeezed her eyes shut and shook her hands, but the prickles wouldn’t stop and her gasps stayed empty. The air refused to come in, the memories so far gone she wasn’t sure what was real. What mattered.
"AAAGRAHHHHSTOOOOOPPPPAHHHH!"
The frustration erupted out of her in a strangled cry that bounced against the walls of her apartment and reverberated in her body. But a trickle of oxygen floated up to her brain.
"Breathe, just breathe." Saying the words out loud helped small pockets of air to make their way in. "Breathe, just breathe. What do you have power over? What do you have power over? I have the power to, to, to…breathe."
Katie closed her eyes and let Dr. Walton’s voice broadcast into her brain.
"When you start to feel powerless, just breathe. Remind yourself you have the power to do that simple, basic task, then build on it. Just breathe, Katie, just breathe. What do you have control over, Katie? What are you making assumptions about? What do you have power over?"
Her fingers took fitful swipes at her eyes, but some more air worked its way in, a few cogs clicked into place.
Breathe, breathe. Think.
Rationalizations crept in.
Breathe, think. What do I have control over? Where do I have power?
She could stand up to them. Tell her mother in no uncertain terms that their relationship depended on her never, ever speaking to Kyle or anyone in his family again. Tell Kyle thatshe would contact the police next time he tried to contact her. That she’d get a restraining order. Maybe even press charges. It wasn’t too late. She still could.
"I still could. I still could. Breathe, breathe. I still could."
She could call Kyle’s aunts or, ha, his dad, if she really wanted to get shit stirred up. She could threaten. She could play dirty, just like they did in their jobs and their divorces and their lives. She could press charges. She still could. She had the power to do that.
"I have the power. I still could. I have the power…breathe. I still could. I still could." When she matched her breaths to those three words, she found that control she sought. She found the beginnings of calm. "I still could. I still could."
They knew this.Kyle, his family, her mom—they knew she could still call the cops tomorrow and report everything. She’d even been to the hospital and yeah, Kyle’s dad was on the hospital board, but surely it had to be documented.
"They don’t know who the fuck they’re messing with."
Katie lunged for the bed, hurling pillows aside until she found the phone. She blew the hair out her face, pushing the errant strands behind her ear with shaking fingers, before setting her focus on crafting a text message that would have the entire Holt family on their knees begging her to get back out of their lives.
One glance at the screen and the cell phone nearly fell from her trembling grasp. Four missed calls from her mother and two text messages. Sixteen missed calls from Kyle andthirty-twotext messages. The first was long and sweet. The last said:
I'm not worried bitches like you always get what they deserve
“Yeah mom, sounds like he’s completely changed.”
