Page 2 of On Your Knees

“Breathe. Just breathe,” the soothing voice says.

Everything is moving too fast. I try to count my breaths, but numbers slip from my mind. Reaching out, I grasp for something—someone—to ground me.

Oh shit, I’m going to hurl, and it spews from my mouth to coat the plush black carpet.

“You won’t die, I promise. Just keep breathing.”

I do as he says, drawing in breath after breath.

“The car will bring you to a stop very soon.”

The dizziness fades, but my hands still tremble, my skin now cold and clammy. Each breath slowly evens out, but my lungs still ache, as if I’ve run a marathon. I slump forward, drained, like my body has wrung itself dry. Wetness coats my legs, hands, and even feet.

“Good girl,” he praises.

“You could be a phone sex operator.”

The man chuckles as I close my eyes and rest my head against the window.

“Oh fuck, did we kill a teenybopper?” comes a different male voice.

That has me opening my eyes and glaring at the screen. “Excuse me, asshole, who are you calling a teenybopper? And what are you—Australian? Throw another shrimp on the barbie, mate.”

“I will have you know?—”

“Not now, Zeland. I don’t need my ass sued.”

“Yeah, listen to Mr. Phone Sex,” I mumble.

My entire body slumps back, and I hear someone chuckle. Fuck my life. Right when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, I get kidnapped by a self-driving car.

I don’t know how long it continues driving, but Mr. Phone Sex keeps talking and I nearly drift off to sleep.

“I think she is asleep,” the one called Zeland whispers. “Since when are you nice to anyone?”

“Since I’ve launched Ridez and this little shit climbed in and fucking vomited all over one of my cars. Do you know how much this will set me back?” Mr. Phone Sex snarls. “Wait until she gets the bill.”

Someone snorts. “Yeah, she looks like she has the money to cover that; she barely looks like she can feed herself.”

They keep arguing as everything around me goes black.

The issue with panic attacks is they hit hard and fast—anywhere, anytime. I hate small spaces. I hate not feeling in control. But no matter how hard I try, I have zero control, and once they’re done, then I black out and sleep hard for a few hours.

“Do you think we killed her?” The whispered question registers as my brain comes back online.

“I fucking hope not—I don’t need this shit right now. You fix it and getrid of her.”

“But look how adorable she is. My cock is so hard right now.”

“Fuck off, Zee. Now isn’t the time for a boner.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t have dressed her in one of your shirts. I’m a weak man.”

“Fix this! You’re the one who sent the car to collect your hookup. You’re the reason we ended up in this mess.”

I grind my teeth together. “I can hear you assholes,” I snap, opening my eyes.

The light assaults my eyeballs as I gaze up at an extremely attractive man. He’s not a douchey jock; rather, he’s the sophisticated suit-wearing type who’s all man. He smiles down at me with his perfectly straight teeth. How tall is this man? Jesus.

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