Page 55 of Muted

Another song starts to play, breaking the moment we were feeling and as he turns his head away, I find I don’t want him to leave the bubble we’re in. So, I sing. My anxiety is pushed to the deepest parts of me to allow the air to pass my vocal cords the way it’s intended to. To bring him back tothisinstead of the annoyance and irritation of being caught in a traffic jam when I’m sure all he wants is to be in bed.

I don’t do it loudly, but he hears me.

His eyes immediately come back to me, and he watches my lips for only a moment before he makes eye contact with me again. His intense stare is so overwhelming, especially when those slow strokes pick up, circling the inside of my wrist.

The way he’s locked in on me is too much and I feel like I want to hide from him, but I don’t want to stop singing because he’s not stressed anymore about what’s happening outside of the car. My eyes begin to fall shut, but he grips my hand and jerks it a few inches closer to them.

I gasp, eyes wide, unsure what just happened. Chester shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “Don’t close them. Don’t stop.” I swallow convulsively, then press my lips together because I justknowI can’t anymore.

My breathing picks up in speed, worried that he’ll be disappointed, only to look around outside to see the cars surrounding us. All I see are red lights on all sides, apart from the blinding headlights streaming in from the back window. I try to tug my hand from his, but he refuses to release me.

A pained cry escapes me, and I cough in an attempt to make it stop, pulling harder against him. I vaguely hear him speaking, only focusing on gaining freedom for my hand and halting the keening noise that keeps slipping out.

“Susanna!” Chester barks, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Calm. Down. I don’t know what just happened, but you’re panicking and I’m not about to let you go only for you jump out of my car in the middle of the highway.”

I’m panting as I look around wildly. Anywhere but athim. I’m pulling and jerking my hand, but he won’t fucking budge. Instead, Chester pulls my entirefucking armagainst his stomach and wraps his arm around it, never releasing my fingers.

“Look at me,” he orders.

I shake my head no, dropping my chin to my chest, fighting back the tears trying their best to escape.

Fuck my life. I haven’t had a panic attack like this since… well, since that night.

“I’m going to ask you some questions. Squeeze my hand once for yes, and twice for no. Okay?” His voice is smooth and calm, but I know I’ve just made this entire nightmare of a drive worse for him. He was already pissed about the detour and traffic jam.

I don’t answer him. Instead, I focus on sucking in air and stopping my throat from closing fully. My free hand reaches up and I let my fingertips graze over my throat to try to soothe the muscles.

“Do you like pizza?”

I blink at my lap, still hiding behind my hair.

What the hell does he mean? Do I like pizza? Who the fuck doesn’t like pizza? People possessed by demons, that’s who.

A tremor on the side of my neck induces a muscle contraction, so I move my hand over to that side to stroke the muscle to calm down.

“Susu, do you like pizza? One squeeze for yes, two for no. Remember?”

No, I don’t fucking remember. What the hell are you talking about?

I try to pull my arm away again, and I swear to God, this man fucking growls at me, causing me to freeze.

He’s leaning toward me now, and I can feel his breath as it flutters over the top of my head, disturbing my hair. “There you are. Now, please… answer me. Do you like pizza?”

Clenching my eyes tightly, I attempt to squeeze his hand, but his grip is so tight, I barely have feeling in my hand at this point. But I do. I squeeze once, because of course I fucking like pizza.

“Good girl, Susu. Good girl,” he sighs out, easing his hold on my arm just a touch for me to feel blood rush back to my extremities. “Sausage?”

Two squeezes.Gag me.

His laughter vibrating up my arm is my answer. Apparently, he can see part of my face because I know I just had a look of repulsion cross it.

“Pepperoni?”

One squeeze.

“Good. Okay. What about ice cream? Are you a vanilla girl?”

Two squeezes.

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