What's your Poison? - h.s

8.

Feeling scared to breathe
If you leave me then I'll be afraid of everything
That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down
Lets me face this, let me sleep, and when I wake up
Let me breathe

My bed is my safe place. No matter what is going on outside in Brooklyn, I always feel safe in my bed. It's not unusual for me to hear police sirens outside, shouting or screaming or just loud bangs that could be a gun for all I know. If I'm in my bed, my head on my pillow and my large duvet covering me, I know that I am ok. That may be a false sense of security, but it was all I needed to fall asleep at night alone. I had to get used to sleeping alone after breaking up with Sam. From the moment I started working at Ivy, we connected and became an item within a week. We moved pretty quickly, always staying at either my flat or his, I rarely went a night where I'd be alone in bed.

The first night after we broke up was the hardest, I didn't have that familiar warmth behind me from him in my bed. I couldn't just roll over and have someone's arm around me straight away. Even not being woken up by snoring or the duvet being stolen was odd for me. Part of me missed it, it made me want him back. Then I remember the moment I found out about him and the waitress, going straight to bed and crying into the same pillow that gives me safety every night, the same bed that I used to share with him. He had taken away that aspect of safety from me, that level of trust that I could have in someone else.

Being with Harry tonight, I never wanted anything more than a little bit of fun out of it. Some harmless fun that we could just have and not make a big deal out of, however to Harry it might have seemed more than that. I've seen him almost every night have girls in that office, so what was stopping him from making me just another one of those girls. I wanted to be one, for one night. I'd been so serious with Sam, I needed some fun and to blow off some steam. Harry must have not been that interested in me after all.

As I close my eyes, cuddling my pillow for comfort, my neck still feels sore. It's definitely going to leave bruises, good thing I'm good at covering up marks on my neck so no one else will see. The images of the night start to play in my head as I drift off to sleep. Our bodies grinding against one another on the dance floor whilst we staring at one another. The way his large hands covered the small of my back to push our bodies together, longing to be even closer if it was even possible. I was glad he had taken me up to his office, otherwise I would have grabbed his head and kissed him in the middle of the room, for everyone to see. It's best people don't know about what happened, he is my boss after all.

My dream starts to turn sour as I remember his hand around my throat, so tight that it almost lift me up from the ground. Whilst he always looks angry, the anger I saw in his eyes then was pure hatred rather than just annoyance. The look you imagine to see in someone who is about to kill you. I try take the image out of my head, I don't want to ever remember that part of the night.

I suddenly feel hands grab my throat, pushing me into my bed and blocking my airway. I shoot open my eyes and see Harry sitting on top of me in bed, both hands around my throat with a tight grip. Tight enough to cut of my oxygen supply. He has the same look in his eyes as he did in his office, although his grip around my throat feels as though he was actually going to kill me.

"I told you I don't like being teased." Harry whispers to me as he leans down closer to my face. I widen my eyes and open my mouth, getting ready to scream to get someone's attention. Harry's hand suddenly slap around my mouth, causing me to just scream into his hand. I kick my legs around to try get him off of me, continuing to scream. He pushes down further on my throat, pushing into my windpipe, I find it harder and harder to breathe. As I start to feel less oxygen enter my lungs, I lose my energy to kick him off and feel my eyelids start to close on me. This was it, he had come back to finish the job and succeeded.