If he could light her body on fire with a simple kiss, she could only imagine what a full-blown makeout session would do to her.
Fireworks.It would be like fireworks.
Her phone went off with an incoming call.
“Fuck.” She knew by the ringtone it was Jerry calling. Her mood plummeted. It was a cold splash of reality, the reminder of all the things she was ignoring.
She silenced the call, letting it go to voicemail. Reality could wait until another day.
The scent of rich mahogany warned her she was in danger. It reeked of opulence and self-importance. Of nightmares and defeat.
She stared into the eyes of evil. She couldn’t scream. Her voice was gone. Fear had paralyzed her limbs, making her an easy target.
I can’t breathe.
Why couldn’t she breathe?
Large hands tightened around her throat. Squeezing.
She choked, clawed at the hands that were depriving her of oxygen.
All the while staring into his eyes, dark and enraged. So angry. So evil.
Pleading for him to spare her life.
“You’re going to regret this, you dumb bitch,” he’d screamed so loud, she thought her eardrums would burst. It had been the least of her worries.
Then came the slap. The fall.
Pain and panic.
Darkness threatened.
No—stay awake, Gia. Run.
Hands tugged at her clothes.
No! Fight back!
A golden object caught her eye. Gleaming like a beacon of hope. Heavy. Her fingers stretched… stretched until she felt it in her hand.
Thud.
Blood everywhere.
What had she done?
A loud roaring. Like an angry beast.
Run, Gia! Run!
Gia woke with a gasp. Her heart pounded with repressed memories of the nightmare that still followed her around. She struggled to take deep breaths.
Curled in on herself, arms wrapped around her chest, she closed her eyes, tears leaking onto her silk pillowcase. She tried to summon the soothing voice of Milo, her yoga instructor and therapist. He’d taught her to use her breaths to center herself when she was feeling overwhelmed.
Breathe. Center. Survive.
Deep breath in. Hold for a count of three. Deep breath out.
