one
MERRILY
I let outa slow breath as I dropped my fuzzy, light pink duffel bag in front of the massive double doors of the unfamiliar mansion. Every inch of my body itched, as if bugs were crawling over my skin.
Even after centuries of the hell I lived daily, I still had to silently remind myself that nothing was there.
On top of the itching, my heartbeat had picked up.
Sounds seemed louder than they were.
Action was more difficult than it should’ve been.
I was fiercely regretting my decision to show up there, and I hadn't even made it through the front door.
Er,doors.
All I'd managed to do was carry my duffel bag from my car—and my best friend was the one who had driven that car.
Yet I was overwhelmed.
Like always.
I let out another slow breath, fighting the instinct to shrink. To slowly lower myself into a ball on the cracked tile outside the massive glass doors. To pull my blanket out of that stupid duffel bag and wrap it around myself.
Toleave.
But even leaving was more than I could handle. There was no way I could drive now. I would have to ask Darius to come back if I wanted to go.
Before he left, he had tried to convince me to let him carry my bag to the door. I should've let him, but I'd refused. It didn't seem like a great idea toshow up at my fated mate's house with my best friend carrying my things.
But he’d been right. Carrying the bag had set off my overstimulation already.
I’d be fine, though.
I just needed to stick to my plan.
It was a good, detailed plan.
I slowly pulled my phone from the pocket of my duffel bag and opened the note I had prepared for this situation. When I got this overwhelmed, thinking was an impossibility. My brain was too focused on survival.
Plan: Get to Grayson's bedroom
When overwhelm occurs, just push through it long enough to reach his room. His room will relax you.
Someone will bring your bag eventually if you can't carry it.
Go straight down the main hall until you reach a large staircase. Then up to the top floor.
His space is through a door directly to the left at the top of the stairs.
Right.
This was expected.
It was going to be okay.
I let out another long breath, fighting the urge to scratch a particularly bad itch on my left thigh as I stepped forward and opened the door.
