[ON GOING] All Of Me 18+ Only (Book 3 of Lastor series) #Wattys2020

Chapter 17

I stared out the window and watched the cityscape below us appear through the thick white clouds. The wind had been in our favor and we were arriving in New York earlier than the estimate. I might die before we actually reached the landing strip though.

The anxiety hadn't subsided since we lifted off and I've vomited twice from the nausea that came with it. I should have asked Rick to come with me. What was I thinking? Claiming I had to do this alone. It was all just bravado that had immediately dissipated the moment I was in the air and couldn't escape anymore.

Ah, I need a cigarette. A real one.

"Miss Lastor," I heard Artie call. "Would you like some water?"

"No," I mumbled, shifting in my seat again.

The seatbelt sign lit up and I flustered to clasp mine on, struggling with it for nearly a minute. When I finally latched it in place, I was panting from the exertion. The jet started descending and the pressure already crushing my chest increased. I recognized the panic attack and struggled to subdue it.

Artie acted in the same sequence as he had during my previous episodes a few hours ago, deploying the overhead oxygen masks and putting one on me, and then producing an ice pack and pressing it on my chest. I held my breath for a few seconds to stop hyperventilating before inhaling deeply, taking it slow.

The jet suddenly jostled and I grabbed onto Artie's arm, snapping my eyes to the window. We were taxiing already. This pilot was too fucking competent and this damned weather was too fucking kind.

"Miss Lastor, you're hyperventilating again," Artie said.

I held my breath too quickly and ended up choking on air. I ripped the mask off and tried to stand but the fucking seatbelt kept me down. Artie reached over, releasing me from it and I climbed over him, running to the restroom. I barely made it, ending up vomiting on the tiled floor. I had already thrown up all the food and water in my system, and the acidic bile burned its way out of my throat.

Panting, I pushed myself up and went to the sink, bringing my head under the faucet and letting the water wash me down.

This was a horrible idea. How could I go before Jude like this? How was I supposed to tell him I'd come to offer my services? Would he even be interested in hearing my offer? I was nothing. I no longer had a place in his life outside of being an insignificant sibling. Why would he accept a sister who abandoned him when he needed her most? He hasn't even asked me once to return and had already rejected my services after I failed the Moscow operation. It was obvious he didn't want me in his life at all. What was I even doing here?

I realized I was drowning and sprang up, gasping and coughing up the water. I caught my reflection in the mirror and stared at myself, trying to see if Jude would even recognize me. My hair had grown longer, reaching a few inches below my shoulders, and my roots were showing evidence of my ancestry since I'd stopped dyeing it. My complexion was a shade darker now, more tanned after months of spending my days under the sun. My body had filled out with some muscles too, due to Rick's obsession with making me the model example of health and nutrition, amplified by my daily laps around the pool and yoga sessions. I was, most certainly, at my best physical condition but inside... inside I was rivaling myself at my worst.

I touched the faint scar on my right eyebrow, a token from my father's last beating. Dead or alive, he still haunted me and just like my scars, I don't think he'll ever disappear. He made sure of that.

You're nothing without me, my demons taunted, repeating his last words in his voice. Look at you. You're pitiful.

I pressed my palms against the mirror, covering my reflection as I took deep breaths. There was a knock at the door and I screwed my eyes shut to drown it out.