Page 118 of Deceit

Just let me in, my love, scream out my name

Beneath the poem is something new. Two scribbled sentences that look a lot less thought out than this creepy rhymey poem.

Are you trying to make me jealous? Because it’s working.

My stomach bottoms out when I see that the three pictures are of me and each of my guys. There is a picture of Ronan and I in his car, his hand resting high up on my bare thigh. Then there is Liam and I walking to class, his pinky hooking with mine as we walk. The last is Vincent and I. He has me pinned against a wall down the side of a building he swore no cameras could see. His hand is on my throat, other hand buried in my hair and his lips on mine.

Fuck.

Suddenly, my breathing becomes ragged. I’m unable to catch my breath, to think, to stand. The world becomes dizzy and hazy, and I stumble to the ground, laying on my side as I tuck my legs to my chest.

“Oh my god! Skyla! Are you okay?” Maggie says as she drops beside me, looking me over as if she can find something physically wrong with me.

“Can’t,” I heave. “Breathe,” I rasp. In and out. In and out. I’m desperate for an ounce of oxygen but coming up short with each attempt. “Call,” I gasp. “Guys.”

The more I focus on how much I can’t breathe, the worse I get until I’m full on hyperventilating. I can’t do this. I can’t take this. I’ve tried to brush it all off, tried to forget it. There is no forgetting it, though. Someone has been actively stalking me for weeks now and I’m officially terrified.

He can slip in and out of my room with no issues, he can follow me and my guys around and none of us are any wiser. He has to be on campus. He’s near me, close enough to touch me. And that thought alone, sends me spiraling into another panic attack.

I don’t know how much time goes by before I hear the sound of heavy footsteps thunder across the floor. Ronan steps into the room first, his panicked eyes flicking around the room. I didn’t hear Maggie call him, but she must have. His eyes take in the bed, before he drops to the floor beside me.

“Baby, are you hurt? What happened?”

My breathing is loud and erratic as I try to speak.

“H-he,” I huff. “Is b-back,” I say, as a choked sob tears through me.

Ronan instantly gathers me into his arms, rocking me like a child as I sob and choke on the air around me. My head is so light, it feels like I’m practically floating. I feel so close to passing out, and all I can do is suffer in this strange space between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The door gets thrown open again a few moments later, a drop of sweat falling down the side of Vincent’s face as his eyes scan the room, gun in his hand.

He’s always the one to pull a gun first, and ask questions later. Which, I guess when your girlfriend has a deranged stalker isn’t the worst motto to have. His eyes run over the note quickly, before he is in front of me.

“Siren,” he says steadily, reaching a hand to my cheek. “Can you feel this?”

I shake my head, feeling numb. His eyes are patient but his face is thunderous as he nods.

“Okay, what do you see? Name five things you can see.”

“I-I c-can’tttt,” I whine, in between labored breaths.

“She can’t breathe, let alone talk,” Ronan snaps.

Vincent ignores him, keeping his eyes on me.

“It’s okay, Siren. I’m here. Deep breath in through your nose,” he says, demonstrating it like I’m an idiot or something. “Deep breath out through your mouth,” he breathes out.

He continues doing this over and over again, until I find myself trying to follow along. I take a choppy breath in, blowing out shakily.

“Good, that was good. Again. In and out,” he says, breathing on pace as he does.

Soon I’m able to get a breath or two in before he nods.

“Now tell me three things you can see.”

“Y-you, the c-couch and my b-bed,” I say as I begin to panic again.

“Shhh, shhh,” Vincent says, as Liam and Asher rush into the room.

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