Chapter 08: Tears And Fear
1029 Words
~Lora~
I shoved myself inside my room with everything I had left, slammed it shut, and locked it.
My back hit the door as I collapsed against it.
My heart was out of control.
Fear burned through me and hot tears streamed down my face.
I slid to the floor, shaking, drenched in sweat, barely able to breathe.
“Why?” I screamed, clawing at my hair. “Why?”
The answer came as violence…a loud crash exploding outside the door, glass shattering as something heavy hit the wall.
A vase.
Then his voice followed. “You’re trying to set me up, aren’t you?” he yelled. “You want people to think I’m abusive?”
He laughed…short, sharp and ugly. “But I always win,” he continued. “You’ll regret this.”
His fist slammed against the door.
I flinched hard, sobbing louder.
“Open this damn door!” he shouted, hitting it again.
“No!” I screamed back. “Get away from me, you bastard!”
He went quiet.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but my breathing and the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.
Then his tone changed.
It was soft now. “Listen to me, baby,” he said. “Don’t do this. You’re hurting me.”
I froze.
“You caused this,” he added, voice uneven. “In fact… Here's what we’ll do.”
He paused. “We’ll talk about this calmly, okay? Just you and me.”
“Go away,” I roared, forcing myself to stand. “Go away from me!”
I had to leave, I couldn’t stay here.
My mind raced, thoughts crashing into each other as I searched the room.
I needed my phone.
But my heart dropped instantly when I remembered James.
I had given it to him last night, still haven't gotten it back, never thinking I would need it like this.
Panic tightened around my chest, squeezing until it was hard to breathe.
I moved toward the window, my steps unsteady, my whole body trembling.
It was high….too high, and the sight of it made my stomach twist in fear.
Still… maybe I could make it.
Maybe the pain was better than staying here.
My legs shook as I looked down, the ground spinning slightly beneath my eyes.
What if I jumped and didn’t survive?
What if he broke the door before I could decide?
What if he cornered me and there was nowhere left to run?
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, my breath coming out rough and broken.
I turned around, my eyes searching the room wildly, desperate for anything at all…while Michael’s voice kept drifting through the door, switching between loud and low, anger and softness, like he couldn’t decide which one would break me faster.
Then my gaze flickered towards it, another telephone.
It sat quietly on my dresser, innocent, like it didn’t know my life depended on it.
I rushed to it, my hands shaking as I grabbed the receiver.
I pressed a number, my fingers moving on instinct…then I froze.
Not Alex.
No.
He would create a bigger scene, and doesn't have to see me like this.
I blinked hard, trying to clear my head, trying to think past the fear.
Adrian.
Yes… yes. My brother.
I dialed his number quickly.
The line rang once… twice…
Nothing.
I hung up and tried again, my chest tightening with every second that passed.
Still nothing.
“Oh God…” I whispered.
Was this it?
Had I been given a second chance only to die again?
“No. No!” I screamed suddenly, the sound tearing out of me as I tossed the phone away.
It hit the floor with a dull thud.
I was a mess, completely falling apart.
Outside the door, Michael’s voice kept going…mumbling, muttering, shifting tones, while I stood frozen in the room, biting my nails without realizing it.
A habit I thought I had outgrown.
One born out of fear.. and the word I refuse to label it as all those years back in my Dad's house.
Trauma.
Pathetic Trauma.
And just then, a memory slammed into me without warning.
“Stop,” I whispered. “No… stop it.”
I shook my head hard, trying to push it away, trying to silence the voice that sounded exactly like my stepmother’s.
“No,” I sniffed through tears. “You won’t get me, Clara.”
My chest heaved as I tried to breathe.
And then… Thankfully something clicked.
George.
“Yes… George.”
Hope flickered weakly inside me, especially because I wasn't completely out of balance.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead, thinking..
I had his new business card somewhere.
I knew I did.
But where?
I tore through my things in a panic, hands moving too fast, knocking things over.
Finally, I found it tucked inside one of my handbags.
My fingers trembled as I picked up the telephone again and dialed.
By now, Michael’s voice had gone completely quiet.
All I could hear were soft sounds outside the door, sniffing and… crying.
Tears?
It made my stomach twist.
“No… no,” I whispered. “I can’t…”
Finally, the line clicked.
“Hello?”
George picked up on the third ring.
“Ge…” My voice cracked immediately. “Ge… George…”
Relief flooded me so hard it hurt when I heard his voice instead of his secretary’s.
“Hello?” he said again, concern creeping in.
“It’s me,” I forced out. “Lora. Pl… please. Come. Pick me up… at my house.”
The words came out broken, scattered.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
But I wasn’t.
My hands gave out.
The phone slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor as my legs buckled beneath me.
I crawled to the only place that felt safe now.
Behind the bed.
I curled into myself, shaking, covering my ears.
Because it wasn’t just Michael anymore.
Clara’s voice was in my head now too, whispering, taunting, refusing to let me go.
Why do I let them get to me this bad?
- Writer
