Page 44 of If Our Hearts Collide

“Anyhoo, you can’t decline now. It’s written in my tears of joy.”

I shake my head over their enthusiasm. It’s not even noon, and I already have managed to accomplish an important item on my goal list. Not too bad for just starting out.

“When do I start?”

“Soon. Probably next week or the following one. Your hours will vary, and some of your shifts are dependent on the weather,” Angie explains, “as the photographers might need certain lighting to capture certain shots. Don’t worry though. You havethe flexibility to take time off as needed. We are confident that you will love it here.”

“I believe I will.”

I help clean up the brunch items, throwing away trash and wiping down surfaces with cleaning spray I find in the break room. After I say my goodbyes, I head out into the hallway.

My eyes scan the area, looking for Collins, but I don’t find him.

A chill runs up my spine, as I take a few steps toward a group of chairs outside the bathroom.

Then I feel it… A hand on me.

My eyes snap to the source, finding the calloused grip of a man on my arm.

And no matter how hard I try, I can’t protect my mind from plummeting into the pit I spent most of my days trying to resurrect it from at the therapy facility.

Don’t touch me.

My arms wrap protectively around my midsection, squeezing my abdomen until pain radiates through my core.

And with a growl that confuses even my own ears, I twist and turn, trying to dislodge the hand holding me prisoner in my own mind’s maze.

Get off of me!

9

PENNY

Flashes of memories flitter through my brain at high speed of Mark Tanner on the night that changed my life forever. Claws scratch at the delicate walls of my mind, digging into the fragile darkness, and restoring freedom for the evil, vile man to resurrect.

His scarred face…

His sinister smile…

And the way his eyes track me…promising me that he is coming for me. He’ll be relentless.

Prison walls won’t keep us apart, not when he is taking up camp right here—in my own mind’s playground.

“Tsk-tsk, Penny…” His words are a hollowed-out echo, bulldozing through all the work I’ve done on myself, shattering me from the inside out.

“Don’t touch me,” I yell, not even sure my voice is making a sound that is outside my own head. My shoulders round inward, and I tighten my band of arms.

Please, don’t touch me.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel my body rocking back and forth, swaying to the rhythm of my frantic heart.

“Stay buried, stay buried, stay buried,” I chant in my mind.

The calloused hand touches me again, and as I resurface for air from the depths of the darkness, I reclaim my willpower.

“You dropped this,” the masculine voice says softly, now squeezing my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m not falling for your charm.” My fist swings around—desperate to connect with anything. Anything to make this pain stop. But I miss and flop my body into the hardness of someone else. Someone safe.

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