Chapter 8

Anyone Home?

Photo by Sagar Chaudhray on Unsplash

Chapter 8

I don’t recall there being enough air in the room. My body took what it needed, though. It must have. Although, the sting of anxiety in my lungs and slow, radiating pain that surged to life behind my eyelids reminded me of the time I almost drowned at the city pool when I was six. It felt like death was knocking on my door, and I had the compulsion to open it, to let the water rush into my lungs, to cool the blood that had turned to flowing magma in my arms.

“That bitch!” I tore free from Randy’s arm, which he draped over my shoulder. I jumped to my bed and shoved my upper body through the open window.