Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
BLAIRE
Screw the time machine. I would have traded that dream in for my own mattress.
My back ached in places I didn’t know existed as I rolled out of Winder’s bed. His makeshift floor bed was empty, a lone bird trilled a cheerful song, and sun streamed in through the window. A beautiful day, yet I was absolutely miserable.
I grimaced, rubbing the worst of the spots, just as Winder popped in through the door, a box in his hands.
He frowned. “Everything okay?”
“Your mattress is just a bit stiffer than I’m used to. I’ll be fine when I get to go back to my own.” I got to my feet. “How long do you think I’ll have to stay here for?”
“I’m not sure at the moment. Hopefully not too much longer.” A look I couldn’t define crossed his face. “I brought you some food.”
He held out the box of cereal, and I realized how hungry I was, snatching it out of his hand. I stuffed a handful in my mouth, a little stale, but I wasn’t about to be picky. “Thanks. We do have a small problem, though.”
Winder’s frown deepened, and he looked over his shoulder to the still quiet living room. “Did someone come in here? Did they touch you?”
My eyes widened, and I shook my head. “Whoa, let’s slow down a bit. Nothing like that. I only meant that it’s Monday. I have to go to work today. As grateful as I am for the clothes, I’m not sure this really screams businesswear.”
I looked down at the oversized outfit that covered me. I didn’t really want to take Winder’s clothes off, but I was already very late, and didn’t want to push my luck more than I had to.
“Oh. That.” Winder’s shoulders dropped, relaxed. “I already called in to your work and told them you were sick and would be out for the rest of the week.”
My mouth dropped open, and I fumbled for words.
Panic was the first emotion that came to mind, imagining my promotion I worked so hard for disappearing before my eyes.
How did he even know where I worked? I’m sure he had his ways, an underground network of connections, but still.
Anger replaced my confusion, realizing what Winder had taken it upon himself to do without even asking me. “You did what?”
He raised a brow, daring me to contradict him. “Did you really think it would be a good idea for you to go to work, alone, when there’s someone out there who is obviously looking for you? If they knew where your apartment was, they’re going to know where you work.”
“Yes, but…” I fumbled for words. My promotion.
Duke was going to get my promotion. The air escaped my lungs, leaving me gasping for oxygen.
Out of everything, losing my promotion was going to be my breaking point.
“I have to go to work. I told my boss everything was better, and I’m up for a massive role change, and if I don’t even show up, I’m not going to get it. ”
“Blaire.” The look he gave me would’ve shriveled me on the spot if my anxiety wasn’t currently in control, imagining getting fired from work, homeless on the streets, where even Winder’s bed would be more comfortable than the piece of cardboard that was going to be my home soon.
“Is a promotion really the priority when your life's on the line?”
“Um…” My chest was so tight I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think straight. I knew what the right answer to Winder’s question was, but at the moment, all I could think was, “What if I get fired?”
“Blaire!” Winder’s voice brought me down a notch. “You’re not going to lose your job from being sick. Okay? I promise you. But I need you to focus for a minute. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.” I tried to focus on Winder’s voice, on the way his black shirt stretched across his chest. My heart was still beating a thousand miles a minute.
“Breathe, Blaire. Focus.” Winder was in front of me, sitting me back down on the bed. “Five things. Give me five things you can see.”
I nodded, gulping in a breath. “Door. Black shirt. Um.” I squeezed my hands together. I could do this. My job wouldn’t be the thing that broke me. I wouldn’t let it. “Door. Black shirt. Broken lamp. Dresser. Your tattoo?”
“Good girl.” He squeezed my knee, and I clung to the small touch.
My breath was coming a bit easier now, my heartbeat slowing down to a manageable level. Panic attacks weren’t new to me, not by a long shot, but having one over work was different. Good girl, I thought. He called me his good girl. I liked the idea of that more than I should have.
“I’m okay,” I murmured, shifting back so I could cross my legs. “I’ve just been working for that position for a really long time, so the idea that it could be ripped away from me just like that is…”
“I get it.” He stood up, even though I wanted to pull him back down with me.
I didn’t want to be alone with this feeling.
“I’ve lost things for seemingly meaningless reasons, too.
But I need you to do me a favor, okay? I need you to think about your safety first. I need you to keep yourself out of harm’s way. ”
I scoffed. “You’re preaching to the choir. I’m prepared for basically anything.” Thank you, anxiety.
“Yeah, the last few days really say you’re perfectly safe to me.” He gave me the look again, the one that screamed he saw right through me, to the little pieces I hid. “I have to go out. So, you’re going to have to stay here, in my room, until I get back. Can you handle that?”
I frowned, pulling my knees up to my chest. “I don’t love the idea of being your prisoner, Winder.”
“You aren’t my prisoner.” A beat of silence followed. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d stay here, where I know you’ll be safe.”
A prisoner in different words.
“How do you know I’ll be safe here?” My nerves were already chewing at me. Maybe it would be better to go to the office. The fact it was a public place could be a benefit, even if it made Winder nervous.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to work.”
Shit. I was beginning to wonder if he really could read my mind. The other possibility was that my poker face sucked. “I’ll stay here.” I stuffed another handful of cereal in my mouth, and smiled. “Promise.”
“Cute.” Winder grabbed the sweater hanging on the back of the door, shrugging into it.
“Wasn’t trying to be.” Didn’t need to be.
He turned, meeting my gaze one last time. “Lock the door behind me, and for fuck’s sake, stay put. I don’t want to tear apart the city looking for you, but I will. And I promise you, if I have to do that, you’ll regret leaving.”
I rolled my eyes. So dramatic. “Promises, promises.”
“Don’t be a brat.” With that, he closed the door behind him.
I stuck my tongue out at the door, but got up to twist the lock just the same. I could almost hear him smirking from here. He knew I would.
Collapsing on the bed, I stared up at the popcorn ceiling. Three days ago I was normal. A normal woman, working a normal job, waiting for a normal career. And now…
If I could pinpoint the one thing that changed it all, maybe that would make a difference. But I couldn’t.
Even though my sleep the night before had been broken, it was still better than what I had been getting.
Realistically, I shouldn’t be tired. A panic attack would take it out of you, though, leaving you feeling like you’d been hit by a truck.
It was funny how such a small thing could have such a massive effect.
Except…I had been working toward a promotion for years. The least I could do was respond back to some emails, right?
I groaned, flopping facedown. The company’s firewall meant I couldn’t do emails on my phone, and my laptop wasn’t at home.
I had left it at the office on Friday, trying to put some separation between myself and my stress to see if the distance helped the nightmares.
Little did I know, my worst dreams were going to become reality regardless of where my computer was.
Flinging myself into a sitting position, I thought about it for a second.
Showing my face when I was supposedly on death’s door wouldn’t be the worst thing.
It could demonstrate my commitment to work.
I wouldn’t have to worry about getting dressed up, because the messy clothes would add to the story Winder had told them.
Besides, I could be in and out before anyone—including Winder—noticed I was gone.
I chewed on my lip. It wasn’t the worst idea.
Small prickles of anxiety nipped at my wrists, making them ache. I wanted to leave. But the idea of leaving also terrified me. I wasn’t sure which scared me more.
Enjoying being Winder’s prisoner.
Being someone else’s prisoner.
I sprang to my feet, pacing Winder’s messy room. If I could outrun a burglar, then I could push through my anxieties enough to get to work, and get my laptop back in my possession.
Besides, Winder only said he didn’t want to rip apart the city looking for me. I’d come back, so that solved that problem.
I could do this. Absolutely.
Only a small, tiny, insurmountable bit of doubt lingered in my mind. Barely anything to notice, really.
I should look out the window first. Just to make sure the coast was clear.
Winder’s curtains were rough to the touch, and I pulled them back as far as I dared.
The outside world was bright and sunny. I would’ve felt more comfortable if it was raining, a downpour soaking everything in sight.
My gaze traveled the length of the porch, but only a few stragglers lingered, smoking something. No big deal.
But a man on the other side of the street looked out of place. Thick, dark hair, built like a linebacker, he stood with his hands in his pockets, just watching the smokers. My gut sank, the nerves taking over again now that they had found a hole in my defenses.
He probably was just nervous to buy something. Weren’t you?
Too logical. His eyes kept darting around.
Have you heard of a thing called the police?
Couldn’t forget about them.
The man’s gaze snapped up, and I could’ve sworn he looked right at me. I dropped the curtain with a squeak, sitting back on the bed. He couldn’t have seen me. There was no way. I was just in my head, imagining ghosts that weren’t there.
Slamming my eyes shut, I flopped back onto the pillow.
Sometimes, I hated the small voice in my head. She was so loud. So overpowering. She sounded so right, all the time. Who was I to tell her she was a liar?
Liar. That’s all she was. A liar who told me things that sounded true. Winder had told me not to trust anyone with a tongue who could lie. I wondered if that included my anxiety, too.
I didn’t like the rolling tidal wave of emotions rocking me back and forth, leaving me unsettled and unstable.
Deep down, I knew I was capable of more. I craved strength. Control. Power. I craved the sensations the nightmares gave me, so unlike the little voice in my head who told me pretty half-truths wrapped up in bows.
I laughed. Was I seriously missing a nightmare? Not just any nightmare, either, but one where I was a killer.
The niggling feeling my dream this morning gave me, that I was missing something, wouldn’t leave. To figure it out, I would have to give into the night terrors ruining my life.
Winder learned how to manipulate the situation around him to get what he wanted out of life. Surely I could do the same.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I hadn’t had the dream since being at Winder’s. But Winder wasn’t here, and I was absolutely exhausted. If I didn’t fight sleep, maybe I would have the dream again.
It was risky, especially if what Winder said was true, and I was missing massive chunks of my memory. There was something kind of delicious about being dangerous, though. Something I had never really considered before.
Maybe the opposite of being afraid wasn’t being brave.
Maybe it was becoming scarier than your fears.