Page 20 of Bound to the Daddy

Unfortunately, I still hear them. Still see them. My heart pounds in my chest as my vision starts to swim. Each additional noise pings against my skin as if it’s a physical sensation instead of just auditory. The last time I felt this way, I had a full-blown meltdown.

I ended up in the hospital for at least a week. No way I can afford that now. I don’t even have insurance after being fired. Fuck. I don’t have insurance. Oh, my god.

What if something happens to me? What if I get in an accident because I can’t move my car? What if I get sued because someone else damages their car running into me?

What if-

What if-

What if-

The thoughts circle and spiral until I can’t breathe. Holding my hand to my chest, I rock back and forth, tears stinging my eyes as I do my best to get ahold of myself. But nothing helps. Even as I wrap my arms around my waist and hum, it doesn’t calm me down.

Somehow, Mother was able to soothe my mind with just a tight hug and a lovely hum. Why can’t I do the same? Why can’t I just regulate myself like everyone else? The phone dings again, adding another sound to the constant cacophony.

Rex

You’re ten minutes late.

“I fucking know!” I cry out, my body trembling as all the overwhelming sensations try to crash in.

Is he going to message me in increments of five? Does he think I don’t know the fucking time? I do know. I see the minutes pour by with no end in sight.

If only I brought my medication. But then, shouldn’t I still be feeling the effects from the one popped earlier? Why isn’t it working? Why is nothing working?

Again, my thoughts drift back to the bathroom. I should have thrown the kit into the incinerator the moment I saw it. I shouldn’t be craving the burn, needing the sting. I should be able to fucking manage this on my own.

Resting my head on the steering wheel, I sob as everything in me shatters open. Finally, I hear nothing except the sounds coming out of my lips to punctuate the din. Everything purges—me being fired, me being evicted, my car, my parents, everything.

Time has no meaning as I continue to cry, releasing everything I can into the visceral reactions that wrack my body, forcing me to nearly convulse in the seat. A loud rap at my window startles me, breaking through the mental mire I find myself entrenched in. There, just outside, an officer peers down at me, his brows knitted in what I hope is concern.

My fingers tremble as I roll down my window. “Yes, officer?”

“What seems to be the trouble?” He ducks down a bit and squints at my face. “Are you okay?”

Helpless, I shrug and let my hands flop to the side. What even is okay anymore? Am I not dying? Is that okay? Reaching into the car, he unlocks my door and opens it.

“Step outside, please.”

My brain buzzes as I force my body to move into action. Everything feels numb as I crawl out and see the onlookers gawking at the spectacle.

“Have you been drinking?”

I shake my head.

“Taking recreational drugs?”

Again, I shake my head.

“Medication?”

I look up at him, nodding this time. “I can’t remember the name. It’s for anxiety.”

He crosses his arms and looks me up and down. “Doesn’t seem to be helping, is it? Walk this line for me, heel to toe.”

My movements are shaky as I do what he asks, but with my body trembling so hard, I can’t seem to even walk a stupid line.

“I’m sorry,” I sob out. “I’m so sorry. I’m trying. I really am. I’m trying so hard. I promise I didn’t drink. I don’t even have the money to do that.”

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