Chapter 13

13

Chloe

Sunshine streamed through the windows as I arranged yoga mats in a circle for the morning wellness workshop. The soothing scent of eucalyptus from the essential oil diffuser filled the studio.

I smiled at the guests trickling in, recognizing the regulars. “Morning, Tanya. Hey there, Liz. Grab a mat wherever you’d like.”

After the workshop was set up, I headed to the supply closet for extra blocks and straps. A familiar deep voice stopped me in the hallway. “Chloe, got a sec?”

Pete leaned against the wall, hands tucked in his pockets. That lopsided grin could have made another girl’s heart flutter but it did nothing to me. Especially not since meeting Mason , I thought.

Still, Pete was friendly and I enjoyed working with him.

“For you? I suppose I can spare a moment,” I teased.

“I was thinking, if you’re free later, we could maybe catch a movie?— “

The shrill ring of a phone cut him off. He sighed. “Duty calls. Think about it, though.”

I felt a sense of relief as I watched him jog off. I’d have to let him down sometime, but I avoided it for now. Shaking my head, I stepped into the dark supply closet, fumbling for the light switch.

Click. Nothing. Click click. Still darkness. The door shut behind me and a jolt of panic shot down my spine.

This wasn’t happening. My pulse kicked up as I spun to the door. The knob was locked. It wouldn’t budge.

No no no.

Not again.

Not again.

Not again.

Panic ripped through me, stealing my breath. I was back there, locked in that closet, the air thick with the coppery tang of blood. Scratching, clawing at the door until my nails bled. Screaming until my voice gave out. Remembering his heavy steps. The snick of the lock. Knowing what came next . . .

I stumbled back, bumping into shelves and sending supplies crashing down around me. My heart was pounding out of my chest as the walls seemed to close in on me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the blind panic that had taken hold.

Some distant part of my mind knew this wasn’t real, that I was having a flashback, but the terror felt as visceral as ever. I could smell the blood, hear the screams echoing in my ears. Feel the cold metal of the knife against my skin as I begged and pleaded for my life.

I don’t know how long I crouched there amid the spilled yoga supplies, paralyzed by the memory of that night. It could have been minutes or hours. Slowly the panic began to ebb, my frantic gasps evening out into shaky breaths. As the adrenaline faded, tears slid down my cheeks and I wrapped my arms around myself.

A broken sob tore from my throat. I sank to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. Just a closet. I was safe. He couldn’t hurt me anymore.

Breathe in, one two three four. Out, one two three four.

Slowly, the memory released its suffocating grip. I stood on shaky legs and tried the knob again.

It turned easily in my hand. I stumbled out into the bright hallway, one hand pressed to my racing heart.

Just a broken light. A stuck door. Nothing sinister. Right?

I leaned my forehead against the cool wall and tried to believe it.