Page 20 of Cerulean Truth
“I’m sorry, I have an early morning and my boyfriend is waiting for me at home,” I lied. Maybe he was taken aback by me mentioning a boyfriend, when he was so clearly hoping to get laid, but his look was darkening, and I excused myself to the bathroom just to get away from him. Drunk or not, my instincts kicked in and I knew I had to put as much distance between myself and Kevin as possible.
I exhaled in relief when I closed the bathroom door behind me. I didn’t really have to pee, so I turned my attention to fixing my makeup, hoping to hide my unease. Out of nowhere, the door flew open, and Kevin barged in. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest.
“Geez, dude, what the hell are you doing here?” I yelled, clutching my heart in a very dramatic way. He laughed and moved closer, forcing me to step back until I hit the wall.
My voice trembled slightly as I stated the obvious, "Uhm, this is the ladies’ room..."
He nodded, a sinister grin forming, all the while still marching forward until he had me cornered. My discomfort escalated into sheer anxiety as I tried to push him away.
“I’m sorry,” I said as firmly as I could, “but I feel rather uncomfortable with you here, and I’m going home." I attempted to move past him, but he blocked my path. My heart pounded relentlessly. I knew I was too drunk to put up a decent fight; my limbs had practically gone numb and my vision was blurred.
He licked his lips and I leaned back in disgust. “Would you like me to take you home?” he asked, though it sounded more like a threat than a question.
“No thank you,” I replied agitated, trying to move away from him.
I reached for the door, but he seized my arm, setting off a hundred alarm bells in my head. Raw fear coursed through me as he grabbed my other arm, violently pressing me against the wall. I hit my head…hard… I brought my fingers to the wound, realizing I was bleeding.Great, that’s going to do wonders for my hairdo, I thought sarcastically, while realizing my hair was probably the last thing I should worry about in that moment.
“Why not? Scared of what the boyfriend might say? Don’t worry about him, honey, I’ll protect you from him.” He sneered.
“Get out of my way!” I yelled, frantically looking for another exit.
“Oh so, you’re nothing but another cock-tease then?” he hissed, while still blocking the door.
I had to focus. I had to get ready to knee him in the groin, but my head was all fuzzy; the alcohol, the adrenaline, and the bump on my head, it was all too much.
But in spite of the emotions soaring through me, I did hold my cool. I really thought I did.
I was entering panic mode, sure, but the guy wasn’t the Hulk or anything and I was used to guys being pricks. But subconsciously, I must’ve sensed I was in more danger than I realized.
Without warning, he made an abrupt lunge toward me, seizing my shirt, causing it to tear along the side. In that moment, I began to experience an immense rush of energy coursing through me, accompanied by an immediate burst of light.
I closed my eyes, feeling dazed, not grasping at all the reality of what was happening, but when I opened my eyes again, I found the guy lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
A lot of blood.
As in…there was blood everywhere. My eyes widened in shock.
What. The.
I stood there, motionless. My jaw dropped, what the hell had happened? The guy looked like he had been stabbed at least a hundred times. He was lying on the seedy floor, bleeding out, and I was just standing there…frozen, nailed to the ground. Holy mother of…
Oh gods. Oh. My. Gods.
The sight of him dying was starting to register. My heart was pounding in my chest like a drum, each beat reverberating through my entire body. True panic captured me with an icy hand, and I could feel it clawing its way up from the pit of my stomach, unrelenting and merciless.
My breathing was becoming unhinged. I tore my eyes away from the body for a second and I looked at myself in the mirror. The reflection that met my eyes was a grotesque and surreal image. My face and clothes were soaked in blood, the crimson liquid clinging to me like red paint to a white canvas. I clutched my hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming.
As the walls started to close in around me, my breathing grew increasingly erratic, each inhale more desperate than the last. It was as if all the oxygen was being sucked out of the room, leaving me gasping and struggling to fill my lungs. Panic began to overtake reason, and I had no idea what steps to take next.
My only solace was in the mantra I repeated in my head, "Calm down and think, Emma." I still kept my hand over my mouth to muffle any cries, threatening to escape, and squeezed my eyes tightly shut.
In a desperate attempt to regain control, I summoned all my willpower and focused on regulating my breathing. It was a lifeline in the storm, a thread of hope I clung to amidst the chaos. Slowly, deliberately, I counted each breath, "One, two, three..."
With every counted number, the tempest within me began to subside, and I regained a modicum of composure.
After a minute or two the fog in my head lifted completely, I could breathe again, and thanks to the oxygen, rushing to my brain, I could think again.
It was only then the full weight of what had happened bore down on me, an epiphany of unprecedented magnitude. I realized it had happened once again.
