Page 19 of Property of Chaos

No matter how breathtaking nature is in her simplistic form, it doesn’t dissuade from the evils that go on beneath her sky in the name of faith. Love. Honor and trust.

Pick a virtue, and I can show you a man who singlehandedly ruined its definition.

My shoulders drop on a deep exhale. I’m up now; I may as well run the full gamut so I can fucking have a chance at sleep before the sun comes up. I turn for the door and freeze.

My heart skips a beat then breaks into a sprint, yet I can’t place what the fuck spooked me. There’s just something not right about my bedroom. A crawling feeling that has my leg muscles primed and ready to bolt through to the living room and out of danger.

To the kitchen for a knife.

I search the four walls, gaze scouring the moonlit areas and the shadows, yet nothing registers. I blink. Squint my eyes shut as hard as I can, then blink several more times to clear any sleep still blurring my vision.Nothing.Fuck.You’re goddamn losing your mind, Ness.It’s finally happened—the stress has fucked with my brain chemistry to the point that I’m losing it.

Call the institution and have them set aside a room because I’ll be there within the month at this rate.

Shit.

I take three deep, circular breaths, with one hand on my chest and the other on my stomach.

The focused intake of air calms my anxiety somewhat, but it does nothing to appease the lingering self-loathing. If I’d known how long it would take to cultivate a quiet mind once I got free, I’m not sure I would have tried to escape that hell. A part of me was naive to the damage trauma can do to your body as well as your mind. Like a scorching hot sun burning at your skin, I foolishly believed all I had to do was step out ofhisreach, and I’d be fine.

That the relief would be imminent.

I’ve simply cycled through the seven circles of hell in the decade I’ve been free.

Am I free at all? Don’t go there, Vanessa.Don’t take away the fucking reason to persist.

My throat closes, eyes burning.I won’t do this.I won’t go there.Fuck.I’m already there.

I entered freefall the minute I picked up that envelope and saw the return address. I’ve just denied that’s what was happening until now.

Shit, shit, shit.Panic triples, washing over me in a hot rush as I stumble through to the bathroom and slam the cold tap on. I thrust my wrists beneath, desperate to shock my nervous system out of this doom spiral. I don’t want to be back here.But you are, you dumbass, so deal with it.Deal with it and fucking get to the end of this bullshit and win. Otherwise, everything I’ve done up until now is a fucking waste of time. Why put myself through all this shit if I never intended to make it to the reward, huh?Fuck.

I lean forward, head slamming against the mirror as I curl over the basin and add hot tears to the flow of cold water cascading over my pulse points.

It’ll pass.It already is.Make a plan.I’ll call Doctor Phillips in the morning and schedule a phone consult. Maybe ask for a renewal of Xanax, just in case. Message Marianna and give her the heads-up that I need a distraction. Carve out some time to take a long walk along the river.

Yeah.I can do this.

The water shuts off with a squeal from the pipes, my fingers lingering on the tap as I lift my gaze to my close-up reflection. My eyes appear black in the dark, my irises a murky pit.Relevant.Fuck it—the thought makes me smile as I pull away from the mirror. A giggle bubbles up from my chest at the ridiculous pivot. How my goddamn mood can go from let’s grab a shovel and dig myself a hole, to finding the whole damn situation a joke in five minutes flat, I don’t know.

Again—trauma. It’s a ride, y’all.

The dry fabric of the towel scratches across my face. A sensory treat that further helps to bring me into the present.

I am safe. I am okay.

I am alive.

Barely.

I sigh and turn for the door to find my way back to the bedroom. My feet scuff across the floor, further adding to the sensations that keep me in the now and save me from indulging in utter despair.One day at a time, baby girl.

First—find out if my mother is still alive.

Second—write an email to the lawyer with a request for context; what the fuck doeshewant from me?

Third—gather the evidence to destroyhisass once and for all.

What else does the fucker expect when he takes everything from me, other than for me to behave as though I have nothing left to lose? Perhaps that’s why he fears me most—Idon’thave anything I’d jeopardize by going after him.

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