Page 27 of Mind

“I’ll be right there, I’m sorry Bree, I’m so sorry. You can’t know how much,” I try to finish but she cuts me off.

“Save it for Phillip. He’s the one lying in a coma,” she says and then abruptly hangs up. My heart sinks as my knees weaken. I slump to the floor in a heap of tears. I grip my knees tight and sob into them.

“Gigi, what’s the matter?” Dana comes around and puts a cool hand on mine. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head over and over. “I’ll never be okay again,” I barely say through my tears. Guilt, fear, and sadness rip through me, tearing my insides apart.

“I’m going to get Chase!” The last thing I hear is her heels clicking on the tile floor.

X

My work here is done. I’m standing in the room next to that stupid comatose fucker listening to his hysterical woman as she calls the love of my life on the phone. She’s giving an Oscar-worthy performance. Knowing my Princess the way I do, she’s rife with guilt. And now she knows just how far I’m capable of going to get to her. There will be no roadblocks.

It was easy enough to slip into Phillip’s hospital room. That stupid bastard Chase Davis didn’t even post a guard. Idiot. Thanks to his carelessness, I’m even closer than ever to finishing my plan to get my girl back. Eventually, I’m going to remove each and every last one of those bitches. Soul sisters she calls them. More like brainless twits, if you ask me. No one has cottoned on to me being the stalker. Not even her so called “best friends in the whole world” what’s that term? Oh yeah BFFs. Ridiculously stupid. They make it so easy. Rubbing my hand through my hair, I put the surgical cap on concealing my hair fully.

I slip out of the room looking left and right, making sure I don’t recognize anyone. The scrubs were a nice touch, pilfered out of the open supply closet. I got in and out of Phillip’s room without so much as a look my way. Medical personnel are always too busy to really pay attention to anything around them besides the patient in front of them. Walking zombies for the most part. Completely worked in my favor today. It was so easy to walk in there. Phillip was still as a statue when I placed the note on the bed for my girl. I was actually shocked there wasn’t a horde of his admirers hanging around like usual. Looks like I timed it perfectly.

I barely make it out of his room and into the room next to his when his “girlfriend” shows up in her trendy yoga gear. At least she’s something to look at. I don’t prefer the petite types, I’m more of a long, lean, with curves and red hair type man, but I can see why men go to yoga. It’s not for the exercise that’s for sure. It’s for the hot, flexible little bitch they somehow think they have a chance with. I’ll bet she gets hit on by more of her male students than not. Regardless, I’m done looking at her, and, most of all, I’m done hearing her whiney voice. The bug I planted under Phillip’s bed last week in the middle of the night has given me a keen perspective on their relationship.

The chick is head over heels for the dumb ass. I might actually take a knife to my throat if I have to listen to one more of her cry sessions where she begs him to wake up, for her, for his punk kid and on and on. She never, fucking, stops. It’s a broken record or a TV commercial jingle that you can’t shake. Something has to cut through the monotony. Well, just as soon as the time is right, I’ll be cutting through something. Her pretty little throat. If I don’t get my girl, I’m picking off the weakest link for the hell of it.

Time’s up Yoga Barbie.

Gillian

“Breathe, baby. In two, three, four, five and out, two three four five. In again,” Chase inhales audibly. “And out,” he exhales. I watch his face in a daze, mimicking him breathing in and out. I’m not sure where I am or what I’m doing. All I know is Chase is here, and I am safe. “Again,” he instructs me to inhale then out for another five beats.

Chase’s hands are warm as they cup my neck. His forehead leans against mine. He continues to breathe deep, and I synchronize with him, not knowing what else to do. I’m bobbing in a sea of calm, open water, no land in sight. Only Chase, my life raft.

“Come back to me, Gillian,” his voice feels like it’s being shoved through a panel of wool, thick, scratchy and muffled. “Come on, Gorgeous. Give me those green eyes. Focus on me. Only me. It’s just you and me, here in our home.”

Home.

Chase.

Focus.

The tingle throughout my body starts to ebb, my heart rate losing its erratic rhythm against my chest. Moments ago it was a sledgehammer pounding me into the ground, so deep down I couldn’t breathe, lost my vision. Now all I see is blue…endless blue. Chase’s eyes blink and a slight curve tips his lips.

“There’s my girl, just focus on me. Look into my eyes. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” Chase’s voice is quiet and steady. Slowly, I start to feel the space around me. The air is no longer pressing me into the hole. Chase’s hands slide up and down my back in long, unhurried sweeps. I grip my fingers into the flesh of his back and start to pull him tighter against me, fear still burning the edges of consciousness. Burying my face into his neck, sandalwood and citrus fill the air forcing me into the present. I come to slowly, bit by bit, realizing where I am.

On the floor, in the kitchen, wrapped around Chase. He’s sitting cross-legged with me in his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist. I’m clinging to him so hard I’ve lost all feeling in my hands. After a few more breaths, I pull my head out of the comfort of his neck and blink a few times.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice sounds scratchy and crackles on each syllable.

Chase pets my hair and pushes the loose strands behind my ear. “You had a panic attack. Worse than any I’ve ever seen. Much scarier than your flashbacks. What the hell triggered it?”

It all comes flooding back like a tsunami wave breaking against shore. Tears well and spill over my cheeks. “The stalker left another note,” comes out in a garbled whisper.

“A note?” I nod. “Where?”

The fissure in my heart breaks open allowing the pain to enter once more. “Phillip!” I cry into Chase’s neck unable to stop the bone-crushing guilt.

Chase pulls me back and cups my cheeks. “You’re not making sense. Phillip? A note?” I nod. “You mean the stalker left a note with Phillip at the hospital?”

My lip trembles, and I can feel the muscles around my face contorting and crumbling inward as the sadness crushes me. “Bree found it this morning.”

“Okay. We’ll deal with this.” He hugs me tighter and lifts me up, then stands. I cling to him, not ever wanting to let go. “Dana!” Chase yells over my shoulder. The heel clacking starts again.

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