Chapter 13 Mia #2
A hand on my forearm.
Is it even my forearm?
I can’t feel it. Everything tingles.
Suddenly, a slap on my cheek. Heated pain burns on my skin.
“Are you bloody mad?” I shout and jump up.
“I told you to listen to the end, and you not only did not do that, but you are also freaking out.”
“Of course I am!” I shout, words pouring from my mouth.
“It’s not you they’re going after, it’s me.
You, with all your money and resources, they can’t touch you, I bet scandal is what makes you even more desirable to many.
But I? I’ll be dismissed! My life is destroyed! And you do bloody what, slap my face?”
I know I am looking like a mad person right now with my fists clenched, wide eyes, and a body I can’t feel in its entirety.
“Mia,” she says, “I did so to stop the spiralling. Now, you’re turning your rage outside, not inside, which is good.”
“URGH!” I shout so loudly it rings painfully in my own ears because I have no other words. There is so much anger. No, not anger. Rage. I don’t know who I am anymore.
I need to get out.
Out of the clothes.
The house.
The situation.
My own skin.
I need to.
Have to.
But where would I go?
I’m stuck somewhere in nowhere.
Or maybe I should just stay stuck here for the rest of eternity.
No one will care about the bloody tabloids here.
I cover my eyes with my hands.
Let this be a dream.
It has to be.
A nightmare.
Let me wake up.
Right now.
“Deep breaths,” I hear.
But I can’t.
What’s the point of breathing anyway?
My chest feels painfully hollow.
Her hands grasp around my wrists.
She’s standing right in front of me, pulling down my hands.
My protection.
“Stop touching me,” I shout, but she doesn’t. I can’t do this—it is all too much.
“Dragon!” I scream and jump backwards as she lets go of me like electrocuted.
My hands become fists. Not for attack, but protection.
I should have never left the house.
This is what comes from it.
Now I am stuck here.
With a mess of a life.
Tears I don’t want stream down my face.
Everything feels on edge.
I need to get out of these clothes.
I need—
And then I run.
I run out of the study, up the stairs to the second floor, shoot into the bedroom, into the closet, bang the door close and rip the clothes from my body.
My chest heaves up and down as I look at the mess around me, and the feeling of dread consumes me.
I can’t get enough air.
What can I do? There is nothing I can do.
My life is destroyed.
I can’t breathe properly.
My chest heaves up and down, but I am not really breathing. There is no air reaching my lungs.
Everything tingles.
My face.
My limbs.
Air.
I need air.
The door opens, and I see Victoria's shape enter, my vision blurry.
“Mia,” she says. “What do you need?”
Need.
From her?
To leave and let me die here.
My breath is so erratic that the floor swoons underneath me.
“You need to listen to me,” she says.
Need to listen.
What I need is to scream.
And that is what happens.
“I need to listen?” I scream. “Like I listened to you when you told me to suck your bloody thumb in public, and no one will see? Yeah, what a great listen that was! Bloody damned hell, I don’t need to listen.
You need to listen, because you—YOU!” Spit flies from my mouth.
“With your bloody money and entitled behaviour as if you own the world. Just leave me the hell alone! You’ve done enough damage!
My life is a train wreck because of you!
I hate, hate, hate you. I should have never left the bloody house! ”
Somehow, the screaming helps me refocus my senses. I realise only now I stand in my mismatched, already-worn underwear screaming in a closet. I see Victoria, and know I have said one thing too many, but I don’t care. I am done. So done.
She walks up to me.
“You will listen,” she says harshly as she walks up to me.
“I will not have anyone behave like a child throwing a tantrum around me. I hear you, and I told you I am handling the situation. If you would rather act out and run like you always do, by all means, do it, but I will not deal with such behaviour. Look at you! You are operating on madness right now.”
My body feels like it's about to implode, and I act without thinking. My hand slaps her face, harshly.
Never in my life have I gotten violent, but right now, I am backed into a corner with no way out, and she is the threat. After all, it is no different from what she did to me a couple of minutes ago.
An icy look washes over me as she turns and leaves without another word.
I can’t tell how long I stand there, but a while. Because when I’m back to my senses, my body feels cold and I have goosebumps everywhere.
I need to get my clothes and phone. My phone. Calling Bella. She’ll know what to do. She’s used to crisis.
I dart downstairs to the library, find my clothes there—the ones Victoria has gotten for me. But they at least feel like me. I search for my phone in full panic mode until I find it slipped from the coat’s pocket underneath a pillow.
I unlock it, and the moment my eyes fall onto the notifications, I am falling. Drowning. Suffocating.
Hundreds of notifications.
Calls.
Messages.
Emails.
I can’t.
Can’t.
I scream and throw the phone away.
I hate notifications; they give me anxiety on a normal day. Today, I am unable to cope with it.
It cracks loudly upon impact with the floor. I don’t care. I’d rather burn it at this point.
I need to vanish.
Get my cats, a new phone number, and move to a place so remote that no one will ever recognise me.
But how am I going to get my cats? I don’t even know how to get back home from here. There is no way I am flying in that helicopter with her again. And now I might have broken the only tool that would help me get back home.
Tears flood my eyes.
I need a plan, but I can’t think properly.
So I do the only thing I can do to escape reality: reading. I’m in a damn library after all.
I take the book I saw last night, The Count of Monte Cristo, grab a wool blanket, curl up on one of the sofas with my back against the armrest and begin to read with wet cheeks.
When I hit page 204, exhaustion rolls over me. My eyes burn, and I am so tired that I read the same sentence over and over without actually reading it.
I lean my head sideways onto the backrest. Maybe I can close my eyes for a tiny moment and forget everything.
“Mia,” I hear and shoot up. It takes me a moment to orient and understand where I am and that I am living in a nightmare.
Victoria sits on the couch next to me, her hand on my calf. I draw up my legs and grab the open book that threatens to fall down. I must have fallen asleep.
I feel sick to my stomach, and my body is weak. Exhausted. I’m not made for crisis. Worst thing is, I have to jawn. Again and again. As if my body is trying to compensate for the exhaustion.
“I arranged for you to fly back with Simon,” she says. Her voice is cold and distant.
“I’m not putting a foot in that thing again,” I say.
“You will, because you will not stay here,” she says, getting up. “Wheels up in fifteen.”
My eyes follow her back out of the library as I recall her words. I am flying back with Simon. So, does it mean she is staying here?
I don’t want to go back. I can’t.
My hands tremble just thinking about being back in London, and yet all I want is to leave this house and her behind me.
I also need to take care of my cats.
I get up and don’t even care about putting the book or anything back. I scramble my phone from the floor. It has a broken display.
Whatever, I think. I hate the thing anyway, and I only have it to check on Bella and my mother, who calls me every day. Except for yesterday. Probably, most of the calls and messages come from her; she might believe I died because I didn’t answer the phone.
I take the coat, slip on the loafers, and head out to the helicopter. I don’t even look back. It is nothing I want to remember.
“Miss Phillips,” says Simon, the pilot, and holds out a hand for me to take. “I just finished the check, and we’re ready to head back.”
I nod and take the hand reluctantly before I aim to climb into the helicopter.
I don’t know what makes me do it, but somehow I turn. I glance back at the manor house, although I don’t want to.
Victoria stands behind a window, watching me. So she’s really staying here.
Our eyes meet.
My body jolts.
I hesitate.
But I can’t. This is not what I want. I need my peace and quiet.
So, I get in the helicopter.
The door is closed with utmost finality to a chapter ending.
The vibration begins.
Tears stream down my face.
I haven’t felt this horrible ever before.
This has all been a huge mistake.
I should have never left the bloody house.
Stupid, stupid idiot.