[REBECCA]
The warm morning sun gently illuminated my face, prompting me to squint and shield my eyes from its glaring rays. As I turned around, an uncomfortable ache spread across my back, causing my forehead to crease in confusion. Why did my once soft and cozy bed feel so unbearably hard?
Slowly regaining consciousness, I blinked my eyes open and found myself face to face with the underside of the couch in my bedroom. I rubbed my eyes, attempting to shake off the remnants of sleepiness. A lazy yawn escaped my mouth, followed by a groan as I let my arms cross over my chest, resigning myself to the floor again.
Turning my head to the side, I noticed Artemy’s jacket lying beside me. A frown of bewilderment formed on my face as I cautiously reached out, running my fingers gently over the fabric.
“Hmm,” I mumbled, struggling to recollect the events of the previous night, a disorienting haze clouding my mind.
Why am I clutching his suit jacket?
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I jerked upright in a panic, a wave of dizziness washing over me. My labored breaths filled the room as memories from the night before flashed vividly before my eyes.
Exhaustion had consumed me, worn down by the incessant turmoil of my past and the battles fought against my inner demons.
Feeling numb, I pressed his jacket to my chest, holding it tightly as I closed my eyes, despising the torment of my nightmares. In those first few nights of escape, sleep had eluded me, haunted by the terrors of the past. But for two nights, I had found solace, devoid of those haunting visions.
Hope had welled within me.
Yet, last night, that hope came crashing down, shattered by the brutal reality that I had foolishly believed I could evade. Shaking my head at my own naivety, I forced myself to rise, struggling to maintain balance as I stumbled toward the bathroom.
Without so much as glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I made a beeline for the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over me, its comforting embrace seeping into my weary muscles. I lingered beneath the stream longer than usual, seeking to gather my shattered composure.
As I turned off the water, I stood motionless for a moment, eyes closed, mustering strength. Stay strong. Don’t break. Show no signs of weakness.
Inhaling deeply, I opened my eyes and stepped out of the shower.
Stay strong. Don’t break. Show no signs of weakness.
Swiftly drying myself off, I dressed in the same attire I had worn for weeks: my black maid dress. When I finished, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, studying the tired, red, and puffy eyes staring back at me. The exhaustion etched upon my face came as no surprise. It was a familiar sight, one I had witnessed countless times before.
Be resilient. Don’t let yourself falter. Conceal any vulnerabilities.
I left without glancing back, leaving Artemy’s suit jacket untouched on the floor where I had discarded it earlier. As I bent down to pick it up, a surge of emotions from the previous night overwhelmed me. I struggled to put into words what I had experienced-it was an entirely new sensation that I was still trying to comprehend.
Peace. That was what I found amidst the chaos of my anxiety attack when I held Artemy’s jacket. Somehow, he brought me tranquility.
How was it even possible?
My mind was in disarray as I entered the kitchen, where Lynda and Nona awaited me with genuine smiles. They greeted me cheerfully, but I could only manage a mumbled response, feigning enthusiasm.
“What are you doing with that?” Lynda asked, gesturing towards the jacket in my hand.
I ran my fingers over the soft fabric before answering, “I forgot to return it yesterday, so I’m going to give it back now.” I felt like I was in a daze.
Lynda took a large bite of her apple, her face bearing an odd expression and a concealed smile. It seemed like she was privy to an inside joke, trying hard to suppress her amusement, but I caught a glimpse of it.
Setting the jacket on a stool, I turned to Nona. “I’ll help you set the table for breakfast.”
She nodded and handed me a tray of fruit. As we arranged the last plate, I noticed Artemy and his men descending the staircase. Clad in their customary black suits, they resembled esteemed businessmen if not for the guns they carried. The firearms stripped away any semblance of sophistication, making them appear lethal instead.
Silently, everyone took their seats while Lynda and I discreetly retreated. Instead of entering the kitchen, I paused at the entrance. Overcome by an inexplicable impulse, I glanced sideways at Artemy. To my astonishment, he was already looking at me, his attention fixated. Brayden spoke animatedly, but Artemy seemed oblivious, his eyes solely focused on me. I involuntarily bit my lip, a shiver coursing through my body. Swiftly, I turned away, severing the connection.
“Becca, come on! We need to finish this quickly,” Lynda’s urgent voice echoed from the kitchen.
I responded in a hushed tone, “I’m coming.” Stepping into the kitchen, I discovered Lynda munching on her breakfast while a second full plate rested beside her. She gestured toward the plate, indicating we should eat swiftly before the men finished their meal.
We devoured our breakfast and swiftly tidied up the kitchen, making sure it was spotless by the time the men had finished eating. Exiting the kitchen, Lynda and I witnessed them rising from their seats, scattering around the house, and resuming their previous tasks.