One Wrong Move

Chapter 4

During the drive home, an eerie and unexplainable feeling overtakes me. It creeps along my spine and I suddenly shudder in fear. It's as if my sixth sense kicks in. Goosebumps prickle my skin and I realize that I'm being followed.

I turn right and watch the black Audi behind me do the same. I turn left at the next stop sign. Once again, the black Audi copies my movement.

I can't even see who it is; the windows are tinted.

I put my foot all the way down on the accelerator and surge forward in speed. Lacking control, I cross a red light, just missing another car. The passing driver honks their horn in anger.

I don't have time to feel guilty over it. My heart jumps in my chest when I check my rear-view mirror -- the Audi has crossed over too.

I hit my hand against the steering wheel in frustration and resort to blind panic. Uncontrollable tears begin to run down my cheeks. The paranoia has finally set in, and I'm suffering under the weight of Bryan's supposed sins.

Hyperventilating, I take another turn, deciding to head toward the closest police station. However, when I check again, the Audi has vanished completely from view, almost as if it were never there, to begin with.

I can't take much more of this.

I change course and head home, bewildered, my hands still trembling.

I release a shaky breath as I pull into my driveway.

Why were the windows tinted?

I lay my forehead against the steering wheel, trying to quieten my racing mind.

*~**~*

The house is miserable and quiet without Bryan raiding the fridge and talking on the top of his voice while doing so.

I take a seat on the beige couch in my lounge and reflect on the vile things being said about me and Bryan. I try to catch my breath but the air just won't come. I'm breathing rapidly but I'm not getting in any oxygen. The horrifying experience is not unfamiliar to me.

A wave of heat courses through my body. My hands begin to shake again. I can't seem to think straight anymore. The room begins to spin and a sense of disequilibrium washes over me.

I need Jane.

My phone is lying beside me on the coffee table. I reach over for it but the onset tunnel vision is obscuring my view. The tightness in my chest only adds to my discomfort.

My skin begins to burn. I feel like I'm dying. And with the feeling, only comes more thoughts on how Liz must have felt in her final moments. The very thought of her suffering haunts me.

It's just a panic attack. I'm okay.

I attempt to regain control over my breathing but before I can, I begin to dry-heave. More images of Bryan and Liz flash before my mind. I can't take it anymore. I hurl everywhere. I fall to my knees and begin to sob into the hammering silence.

All of my energy has been drained from me within mere seconds. I've broken out into a hot sweat and it feels like I've just run a mile. I curl my hands into fists and anxiously push my nails into my skin until I draw blood. My knuckles turn white under the pain.

I'm okay.

I keep reassuring myself until my breathing begins to slow and my chest muscles begin to relax again. Refusing to waste another second, I grab my phone and call Jane.

"I know you're going to be angry but I'm going to go and see Bryan," I start talking as soon as she answers.

"Don't be stupid," she chastises me.