I unclipped my hair letting my soft curls cascade down my shoulders, then I added a little highlighter and lip gloss. How I was dressed wasn’t how I’d normally dress to meet my father-in-law for the first time, but it was perfect for Walsh and his stupidity.
I walked out the door feeling so satisfied and headed down the stairs, then opened the creaky wooden door to the barn.
"Enzo?" I asked. He stood guard at the door, wearing all black, with a gun tucked into his waistband.
"Hey, Madison." He winked.What the fuck?
"You were my favorite returning client at yoga…" Oh my god. He’d been watching me all these years. I thought he’d come randomly into my life, but nothing about this was random.
"Surprise." He smiled.
"I hate you." I flipped him the bird, but he shrugged it off. "I hate him, too."
I pushed out of the doorway and headed toward the pool, but Enzo grabbed my elbow.
"No can do," he said, pulling me back into the shadows of the barn.
The lack of windows sent a wave of anxiety through me. My chest tightened, making it harder to draw breath, and my heart raced as if trying to escape its confines.
The world around me blurred, and I felt disconnected, as if observing my own turmoil from a distance. Thoughts collided in my mind, a chaotic symphony of fears and doubts. The sense of being trapped intensified, and I couldn't shake the feeling that the walls were closing in, threatening to crush me. I was taken back to that time in my life where I’d felt so wrecked.
The air in the barn felt thin, my breaths shallow and insufficient. I tried to steady myself, to ground my racing thoughts, but it was like trying to catch smoke with my hands. The anxiety attack had taken hold, and I was caught in its relentless grip.
Enzo’s mouth was moving, but no words were registering. I couldn’t focus on the sounds, just the chaos that surrounded me. Enzo's presence, once a familiar face, now felt like an additional layer of confinement. His casual demeanor clashed with the turmoil within me. I needed to break free, to find space to breathe, or the anxiety would consume me.
"Madison," someone called out, and my knees gave out, and I fell to the ground. My head landed in someone’s arms, and I wished I had found my voice to thank them, but the world turned dark around me.
"Madison,"a voice crooned as I blinked open my eyes, hoping somehow I’d be whisked away by Prince Charming, but I was lying on a pile of old hay in the middle of a stall.
Every part of me wanted to escape, so I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to die, but I often thought about what would happen if I just stopped living. Most days, I was drained from life, too fatigued even for death
"I’m here," I grumbled as I blinked a few times, lifting myself into a sitting position. I closed my eyes as the hay needles poked my fingers, leaving indentations on my scars.
"I’m leaving." I tried to hoist myself up, but Enzo, sitting behind me, gave my back some support.
"You…can’t." The way he trailed off made it seem like he almost felt bad for me. "What happened?"
"I had an anxiety attack. It happens sometimes when I feel like the room is closing in on me." I shrugged. I’d never spoken this aloud, and saying it to Enzo who worked for my husband seemed weird, but I was hurt. Really fucking hurt.
And having someone finally witness the pain that coursed through me was nice…even though until ten minutes ago he was a client who came to some of my yoga classes.
"A-are you going to tell him?" I asked.
I turned to Enzo. To an outsider, our position might have seemed wrong—me seated between his legs—but he was merely steadying me, concerned that I might stumble again.
"I don't think it's beneficial for either of us if I do," Enzo remarked.
I glanced down and realized I was in a hoodie that had ridden up to expose my bra, and my underwear was on full display.
I knew how to manage my panic attacks…usually, but first things first. I needed to focus on the leaves, not the tree.
"Good. I won't tell him that you were fondling me in a horse stall, but that means I'm heading to the hot tub," I declared.
Enzo swiftly distanced himself from me, understanding the implications of my words. Walsh, no matter how friendly, would not take kindly to such a sight.
"I didn't do anything. I was just trying to help you?—"
I shrugged. "Sounds like an excuse to me." Glancing at my scant attire, I added, "And who knows what happened when I was passed out. All I remember is waking up with my sweatshirt hiked up and my ass exposed."