Waves of panic keep washing over me, and they make me want to scream, or run and never stop. It’s like my fear is too big for my skin, and if I don’t let it out, it’s going to explode and take me with it.
Another wave of outright terror hits, and I groan as I clutch my waist trying to hold myself in one piece.
“You going to be sick again?” Ghost asks.
I shake my head. “No, it’s… I keep feeling as if I want to scream. Like I need to run. Like I’m going crazy.”
“I mean, you’ve been through hell. So screaming isn’t a crazy reaction. Why don’t you?”
“What? Seriously?”
He opens the bathroom window a crack, and the steady thump of a distant bass reaches me. God, it mustbe only early evening, judging by the light. They start partying early at the compound.
“They’re pretty noisy here, see?” Closing it again, he smiles at me. “Most people will be riding, or working on their bikes, or in the clubhouse. The windows are closed up here. There’s no one around to listen, so why not scream?”
“You’re here,” I point out. “I wasn’t raised to do things like that.”
His shrug is casual. “That’s okay, but it might help. Sometimes, when I first got out of the military and I was extra fucked up, I used to ride my bike out to the middle of nowhere, gun the engine and just tip my head back and shout as loud and as long as I could, until I felt better.”
He was in the military? I try to remember if I knew that about him already. I don’t think I did. I wonder how old Ghost is. He’s older than me, but he’s also a lot younger than Jack. I’d put him at early thirties, at a guess.
Maybe it’s worth a shot, though I don’t think I’ve ever felt so self-conscious in my life. I have to try something before I lose my mind.
Tipping my head back, I let out a small scream. It sounds like a cartoon mouse.
My cheeks heat as I look at Ghost.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he asks, head cocked to one side in challenge.
“I expect you can do better, huh?”
He lets out a loud, terrifying war cry, and I jump.
“Jesus,” I say, my hand clutched to my chest.
“Give it a go.”
This time, I put my all into it. My fists balled, myarms tense, and my neck strains, and I bend over and scream so fucking loudly it hurts my throat.
“Aaagggghhhhhhhhhh!”
The sound dies from my lips, and I’m left panting. I do feel oddly better, although my throat hurts from being sick and then screaming.
“What thefuck?” The door bursts open and Jack storms into the bathroom, his face pale.
He takes me in, wearing only a t-shirt and panties, my body all sweaty, and Ghost, standing there grinning, and his face darkens.
“I thought she was being attacked,” he says to Ghost.
It’s then that I realize he has his gun in one hand.
Ghost shakes his head, not fazed at all by the weapon. “She’s been sick. Panic. I told her to scream it out. It helps.”
Jack’s gaze flicks between the two of us, his eyes narrowing, as he shoves his weapon into the waistband of his jeans at the base of his spine. Needing to cut the tension because I cannot take any more drama, I speak.
“Can I take a bath or a shower, Jack? I’ve been sick, and I’m so hot and sweaty, I feel awful.”
“Um, yeah. Of course. Which would you prefer?”
