Impassive

16| Towel

"I was never drunk before.", she said while holding the glass of wine in her hand.

AVA

"I'm going to lie down for a bit," I said to Jerry and Tom, rubbing my temples. Something felt off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"Should we let Mr. Bellandi know?" Tom asked, and even though he was a professional, his voice had a hint of concern.

"No, it's fine. I think I'm just exhausted." I turned to leave, and they followed me closely. It was irritating, having them around all the time. Even more frustrating was this new ritual of searching my room every evening, as if someone might be hiding in my closet. How long were they expecting to wait for that to happen? "You don't need to come with me. No one's working in the house anymore."

Jerry smiled faintly. "You know the rules: we check until the last employee leaves, and we haven't gotten the all-clear yet."

I rolled my eyes but didn't say anything as we made our way up the stairs. The routine was always the same: before the first employees entered the house, both of them would position themselves outside my door. From there, they stayed by my side until the evening, when no one else was allowed inside, and the outside security could take over. That meant I was never alone from 7 a.m. until 8 p.m. every day. Matteo's paranoia—he'd probably call it something else—seemed to be growing more intense. "The price of security is freedom," he had said, arguing that he, too, needed more protection. I tried to understand him. I really did, and to some extent, I could. The problem was, he had lost me once before, and I understood that fear. I didn't share it, though. And that was where I couldn't connect with him. I stopped in front of my door and waited with Tom while Jerry searched my room for any intruders. As expected, there was no one.

"I probably won't be getting up again tonight. Thanks, and I'll see you in the morning," I said, closing the door behind me. Relieved, I leaned against the door and took a deep breath. Finally, alone. At least until tomorrow morning, when they would be standing outside my door again. I couldn't help but wonder if they were paid by the hour. And if they were, I hoped they were very expensive.

I stood by the door for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the silence of the room wash over me. The weight of the day had settled on my shoulders, and the constant tension that had been building up seemed to press in on me. I closed my eyes and sighed. Something wasn't right, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was. Maybe I was just tired, maybe too many things had been happening too quickly.

"I'm just exhausted," I murmured to myself as I turned away from the door. I needed sleep. I could barely keep my eyes open anymore.

I went to my bed and sat down, pulling off my shoes and shrugging out of my jacket. The soft, familiar feel of the sheets felt comforting, almost like a promise of escape from the day's chaos. My body craved rest, though my mind wasn't ready to shut down just yet. I lay back, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts still a blur. I could hear the faint sounds of movement outside my room—Tom and Jerry, making their rounds as usual. Their presence, though well-intentioned, only added to the strange, oppressive atmosphere that had been building in the house. I rolled over onto my side, trying to shake the unease creeping through me.

There was nothing to fear. No one was here but the two of them, and they wouldn't let anything happen to me. I knew that. I rubbed my eyes, trying to push away the heaviness in my head. I needed to sleep.

Eventually, my thoughts slowed, the rhythm of my breathing deepened, and I could feel my body relaxing, inch by inch. I turned off the light, pulling the covers around me. The softness of the sheets felt like a small comfort, but it didn't fully chase away the unease lingering in the back of my mind. I closed my eyes, sinking into the bed, finally letting the weight of the day catch up to me. It didn't take long for sleep to come, heavy and merciful, blanketing me in darkness.

I woke up suddenly, my body drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to my skin. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn't quite shake the sensation of panic, though I knew I hadn't been dreaming. No nightmare. No vivid images haunting me in my sleep. It was just a strange, unsettling feeling that had crept in somewhere between the waking world and the dreamlike haze of rest.

I blinked, disoriented, trying to catch my breath as I lay there in the dark, the weight of the silence pressing in on me. The room felt too warm, stifling even, like the air had thickened around me while I slept. I could feel a thin layer of sweat coating my skin, making everything feel heavy, as though I were trapped in my own body.

It took a moment for the world to come back into focus. There was nothing here. Nothing was wrong. I was safe, I told myself. But the feeling wouldn't go away. I still felt like something was off, like I couldn't shake the claustrophobic weight of everything pressing down on me.

Sighing, I pushed the covers off and swung my legs over the side of the bed, my feet touching the cool wooden floor. I needed to clear my head, and the only thing that seemed to help anymore was a shower. The quiet sound of the water, the warmth of it—it was the only thing that could bring me some semblance of peace.

I stood up and stumbled towards the bathroom, still half-dazed from the strange sensation of waking up. The fluorescent lights flickered briefly as I turned them on, but the buzzing didn't last long. The bathroom felt cold compared to the warmth of the room, a sharp contrast that made me shiver slightly as I peeled off my sweat-soaked clothes.

I stood under the warm water, letting it cascade over my skin, the steam filling the room. It should have been soothing, but instead, it felt like I was sinking deeper into something I couldn't escape. The sound of the water, the heat surrounding me, it was all supposed to calm me, but nothing felt right.

But how is that possible?

My chest tightened, and I ran my hands over my face in an attempt to wash away the swirling panic, but it wouldn't leave. It only grew. This... knot in my stomach, this crushing weight in my chest, it was too much. I tried to breathe, but my lungs felt heavy, and the air was suddenly thin.

I grabbed the shampoo bottle, my hands shaking as I tried to focus on something familiar. I poured a small amount into my palm, massaging it into my hair. But the effort felt pointless. Everything was slipping through my fingers.

A sudden, sharp pain twisted in my stomach, and I gasped, grabbing the shower wall for support. I could feel the world around me begin to tilt, like the room was spinning, and no matter how hard I tried to steady myself, I couldn't. My breath quickened, sharp and shallow, and my heart began to race, pounding in my chest.

Something's wrong. The thought echoed in my mind, but I couldn't figure out what. Why did everything feel so strange? So unreal? My vision blurred, the edges of the shower, the tiles, all became distorted. The space around me felt like it was shrinking. My body felt... distant, like I was no longer fully in it. I couldn't breathe.

What is happening to me? My mind raced, each thought like a spinning wheel, impossible to grab hold of. My hands were trembling, my skin tingling with a strange numbness that spread from my fingertips to my arms. I wanted to scream, to yell at the feeling of it, but my throat felt tight, suffocating.

I forced myself to turn my head under the water, hoping it would wash the dizziness away, but the spinning only got worse. It felt like I was floating, disconnected, unable to hold on to anything. Calm down, Ava. Just calm down.

But I couldn't. I opened my eyes, and the mirror above the sink caught my gaze. For a split second, I didn't recognize the person staring back at me. My reflection was wrong—my eyes were wide, panicked, as if someone else was trapped inside my body. No, no, no. That wasn't right. I blinked rapidly, trying to make it go away, but the unease didn't lift. It was still there, growing.

What's happening to me?

A cold shiver ran down my spine, and I felt the world around me pressing in on me. I was suffocating, drowning in the confusion. I couldn't tell what was real anymore. Was I still the same person? Was I losing myself?

I reached for the towel, my hands still trembling as I wrapped it around my body, but even the touch of it felt foreign, like it didn't belong to me. I stepped out of the shower, but the dizziness didn't go away. It followed me, clinging to my every movement, a heavy fog I couldn't push through. Something's wrong. Something's wrong. The thought was a scream inside my head, but I couldn't make it stop. I didn't know what was happening, and I didn't know how to make it end.