10. Felix
FELIX
I tap my ID card against the sensor next to the door and wait for the little click that tells me it’s unlocked. When it does, I yank the door open and step through it.
I’m immediately assaulted by the overwhelming smell of chlorine, so caustic it makes my nose burn.
I pause just inside the doorway and take several shallow breaths through my mouth.
The soft lapping of the water hitting the sides of the pool is loud in the quiet room, and the distant glug of the filtration system is way louder than it should be.
“It’s fine,” I whisper to myself, my eyes darting around the cavernous room. “You’re fine. Just get over yourself and get in the pool.”
My little pep talk does nothing to calm my nerves, but I force myself to walk over to the line of chairs so I can put my bag down.
My skin feels itchy, and my chest prickles with anxiety as I strip off my sweater and shirt and toss them over my duffle bag. The swimsuit I’m wearing is one of my bigger ones, but even the looser material feels tight and restrictive around my waist and legs.
“You’re fine,” I mutter and step out of my slides. “Just get over yourself and get in the pool.”
All the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I shove my sweatpants down and step out of them.
I’m so aware of everything around me that all the little sensations I’ve learned to ignore over the years are suddenly obvious and overwhelming.
Like the way the humid air clings to my skin and feels heavy as I breathe in, and how it’s not quite warm but not really cold, so the air feels like it’s close to body temperature but just far enough off it to be noticeable.
The movement of the water is so loud it sounds like waves crashing against a beach, and the tiles under my feet feel colder than usual, making the contrast between the temperature of the floor and the air around me seem even more pronounced.
Even the smell of chlorine, something I’ve learned to ignore, is thick and heavy around me, like someone accidentally added extra chemicals to the pool when they were doing the daily maintenance.
I sweep my gaze around the room. It feels like someone is watching me, but the area is empty.
It was empty right before that guy tried to kill you, too , the voice in my head reminds me.
Ignoring the little prickles of fear that ricochet through me at that thought, I do another sweep of the room. It’s almost one in the morning, and unless whoever tried to kill me is permanently locked into our security system, no one knows I’m down here.
“Just get in the damn water and get over yourself,” I chastise quietly and grab my goggles.
My hands are shaking as I pull them on and pad over to the deep end of the pool. I get right up to the edge, with my toes hanging over the sides, and raise my arms, getting into my dive stance. The water splashes up over my feet. It’s colder than usual, and I drop my gaze to the pool.
Panic claws at my throat, and my chest burns with fear as I stare into the dark depths. My muscles are tense, and a sense of overwhelming dread settles over me as my heart thunders against my ribcage.
There’s nothing in there , I scold. Just get your ass in the water and stop being so damn dramatic.
More of that fear grips me, and the dread shifts into a feeling of impending doom that’s so strong I drop my arms and step back from the edge of the pool.
My breaths come out in short, ragged bursts, and my blood rushes through my veins as the world around me tilts and spins. Closing my eyes, I clamp my mouth shut and force myself to take longer breaths through my nose to try and calm down so I don’t hyperventilate.
When everything stops spinning, I step back up to the side of the pool, but instead of getting into my dive stance, I sit on the edge and slowly slip into the water, still clinging to the side like it’s my lifeline.
The water is cold and feels weird against my skin, and instead of calming me, the feelings of dread and doom intensify, forming a cocktail of terror that’s so overwhelming my vision goes a bit snowy.
Every instinct is telling me to get the fuck out of the water and run as far away from the pool as possible, but I can’t. Not just because I’m frozen in fear but also because the pool is my safe place.
Swimming is the only consistent escape I’ve had since I was a kid. I can’t lose my only sanctuary. Not when everything else in my life is crumbling down around me and it feels like my world is spinning out of control.
I just need to push past the fear and get back on the proverbial horse or bicycle or whatever motivational shit people say, and everything will be fine.
Pulling in a shaky breath, I duck under the water and push off from the side. Everything is fine for about two seconds but goes sideways the moment I start slicing through the water.
The panic and fear that gripped me when I was standing on the side comes back ten times stronger, and it feels like my limbs are made of lead as I’m hit with a rush of memories: a dark figure over me, burning lungs, a hand in my hair, the confusion and fear and helplessness of being held under.
In a panic, I break the surface, flailing like someone who’s never taken a swimming lesson in their life, and angle my body toward the side of the pool.
I need to get out of the water, but before I reach the side, the lights flicker. It’s only dark for a second, but that’s enough to send me into another panic as the memories of trying to swim in the dark come rushing back to me.
My vision goes in and out as I slip into survival mode, moving purely on instinct, and do the world’s sloppiest doggy paddle to the side of the pool. When I finally reach the edge, I drag my ass out of the water and onto the deck.
I have no idea how long I stay like that, sitting on the deck and trying to force myself to breathe normally again, but the panic and terror eventually fade, leaving behind the dread and doom from before.
It takes another minute for my body to stop shaking, but then I’m able to get up and stumble over to the chair where I tossed my stuff.
Moving on autopilot, I hastily dry myself off. I’m half convinced the lights are going to go off or I’ll look up and see the dark figure again, but I manage to pull my clothes on and shove my feet into my slides without completely freaking out.
As soon as I’m dressed, I grab my stuff and run to the door. My slides are loud as they slap against the tiles, but I don’t stop running until I’m bursting through the basement door and stumbling into the main lobby.
Now that I’m above ground and in a public space, I slow to a quick walk and try to act like I didn’t just sprint out of the basement like a madman and cut across the lobby to get to the stairs.
The stairwell, like the lobby, is empty, and I hurry upstairs like my ass is on fire.
When I finally get inside our room, I make a beeline for the bathroom, moving as soundlessly as possible so I don’t wake up Killian.
I don’t really give a fuck if he gets his beauty sleep or not, but I’m not in the right headspace to deal with him or his tantrum if I accidentally wake him up.
Once I’m in the bathroom and the door is locked behind me, I strip off my clothes and swimsuit, then turn on the shower.
I don’t bother waiting for it to get hot and step under the spray, a bar of soap in one hand and a washcloth in the other.
I need to get the chlorine off me, and I’m not gentle as I scrub the sudsy cloth over my skin and wash my hair.
When I feel clean again, I pause and listen for any signs that I woke Killian up. When I don’t hear anything, I dry off and slink back out into the main room.
The lump under Killian’s sheets tells me he’s still asleep, and I creep over to my bed naked with my duffle slung over my shoulder.
Moving as soundlessly as possible, I tuck my bag under my desk, then go to my dresser. I check to make sure Killian is still asleep, then pull one of my books off the shelf and flip it open, revealing the hidden compartment inside the pages.
Being careful not to make any unnecessary noise, I pull several pill bottles out of the compartment. I have to squint to make out the names in the low light, but I find the bottles I’m looking for and shove the rest back inside the compartment.
I shake two Ambien and three Ativan into my hand, then pop them into my mouth and swallow them dry as I cap the bottles and put them back into the book. When everything is put away, I climb into bed and pull the covers up over myself.
I just need to hang on for another twenty or so minutes, then the meds will kick in, and I can finally fall into a deep, dreamless sleep and escape the panic and fear still swirling around inside me.