Chase Me

Chapter Forty-Six: Breathe

Bellona

Shaking. Shaking. Shaking.

"It's okay, Bella, just breathe."

I did. It didn't work. I held my hands together but it still didn't stop.

Shaking. Shaking. Shaking.

"Bellona."

My spine went taut and I looked over at Dad. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were on me. His head shook once and then he turned his attention to the guests. I blew out my breath and looked over at Maria who was smiling. "It's our birthday. Relax. You're okay."

Eighteen. We were turning eighteen. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling Maria rub my arm. I exhaled and opened them. "Yeah. Relax."

The whole party was the same thing we almost always had. Greet guests, cut cake, dance, then speech.

Speech.

From me.

I was patting my mouth with a napkin as I trekked up the steps towards Mum who had just disappeared into her room. I slipped the napkin into my pants pocket and got closer to her room.

"It's not getting better, Victor." That was Mum.

I slowed my steps.

"It's fine. Just like the doctor said. She'll be fine." Dad.

I stopped by the door, peeking through the crack. Dad had his arms around Mum, rubbing her back as she looked distraught. He did too, but mostly he looked angry.

That's when I saw what was in Mum's hand. An orange bottle. Pill bottle. Dad took it from her and tucked it into his pocket. "She doesn't need this. She's fine. This will just make her stronger. Okay, Mi Amour, understand that she is okay without this."

Mum wiped her eyes. "Yes. She's made it this far, yeah?"

"Exactly. Now, let's go back to listen to her speech."

I backed up a few steps and when the door opened I acted as if I were just going to them. "Oh, there you are!"

They looked fine. So fine, it was scary. Mum smiled. "What is it, Beta?"

I pointed behind me and was sort of at a loss for words from what I had just seen, so the only thing that left me was, "Speech."

"Yes, speech," Dad jokingly mocked. He placed a hand on my shoulder and guided both Mum and me towards the steps. "Let's hear your speech, future Lady of Chicago? Ready?"

I smiled tensely. "Born ready, Dad. You know that."

As we reached the bottom of the steps and we moved through the crowd, I swore I could see the label on the orange bottle.

Orange bottle with a white label.

A white label with black writing.

Black writing sprawled across the front before disappearing into the pocket of my father.

Writing that I could just make a few letters out of before the crowd swallowed me.

Treatment for An–

For Be–

The speech that I said that night was done very well because my mind was playing with my parent's words in the back of my head.

She doesn't need it. She's okay. She's made it this far.

No matter how hard my hands shook and how much I felt like digging a hole and falling into it, or whenever my throat closed up, I powered through. Because now I had something to prove.