Page 41 of Receiving His Mercy
Hmm. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
11
Caren climbed out of the Uber. She only had a small roll bag which she dragged with her.
The car took off and she walked up to the door. Thank God there was a lift up to her place as she did not feel like climbing five flights on stairs.
She’d taken some painkillers but her head was still throbbing in pain. And she was exhausted even though she had gotten plenty of sleep. This morning, she’d woken up with a throbbing head and a dry mouth, without the good time to blame it all on.
No, yesterday hadn’t been a good time at all. It had been a complete shit show and she couldn’t believe she’d actually thought something positive might have come out of the visit. That she might have managed to find some closure with her mother.
Instead, her mother had thrown something at her and knocked her out. And she’d grabbed her arm, leaving one heck of a bruise. Thankfully, Caren had a long-sleeved coat with her that covered it.
As she moved toward her apartment, she reached with one hand into her handbag, trying to find her keys.
Why did they always end up in the bottom of her bag?
“Where the hell have you been? And why didn’t you answer my calls or texts?” a voice demanded.
She glanced up, stumbling back in shock as she encountered a large man rising from the floor in front of her apartment door.
Her breath caught.
He’d found her.
Oh. My. God.
How had he found her? How was this happening?
The world around her spun, growing dark as she gasped for air.
Scream! Run!
“Fucking hell! Breathe, Goldie! Breathe!”
Goldie? That’s not whathecalled her . . . that’s what Travis called her.
Hands grasped her around the upper arms and she was shaken. “Goldie, snap out of it! Fuck!”
Oh no.
It was Travis. She tried to calm herself, but the panic had taken over. It was all too much. Her mother. Her head. Travis.
God. What was he doing here?
“Tyler! What do I do for someone having a panic attack?”
Huh?
Was someone else here?
She felt herself being lowered to the floor.
“She’s panicking . . . it doesn’t matter why . . . maybe I had something to do with it . . . for fuck’s sake, Tyler! She can’t fucking breathe, tell me what to do. Right . . . yep . . . just that? Okay. Yeah, bye.”
What was happening?
“Caren, baby. Listen to me. I need you to fucking breathe. Hear me? Do as you’re told.”
