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I expected to come face to face with a naked middle-aged man. Yet, that is not what I find. In front of me, in clear sight, is a scene straight from my nightmares.
I start to shake, my vision gets blurry, and my breathing becomes labored. Right now, is the worst possible time to have a panic attack, but it’s too late to stop it. I shut my eyes tight, trying to fight to gain control. My demons are riding me hard, and I can’t shake them.
Behind my eyelids my dreams start to play back through my mind. My memories of that night wash over me like a tsunami rolling over a shore. I’m back in my childhood bedroom with the big bloodstain on my wall.
The scene I walked in on is a lot different from the one that threatens me every time I try to sleep. In my dreams, there is no tan skinned giant with mint green eyes. Here, the giant is staring at me with a terrifying look in his eyes. In this reality, blood is everywhere. On the walls, on the bed, some even on the carpet underneath my feet. In my dreams it is only on my wall. Also, I feel no pain here, unlike my dreams.
I reach for my shoulder as an old ache starts to form. My heart beats even faster and no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to get enough breath in my lungs.
When I open my eyes again, the golden-haired giant is standing in front of me. He towers over me, his wide chest reaching the top of my head. The frown on his face tells me he isn’t happy to see me. I imagine not, considering I just walked in on him brutally murdering someone.
I should run. Some part of my brain is telling me to get the hell out of here. But my feet are glued to the bloody carpet because my panic attack won’t let me think rationally.
Even though this man is obviously dangerous and clearly a killer, I stare into his pale eyes as if they are a lifeline. Even he is more suitable than my memories.
“Please,” I plead, not sure what the hell I’m asking for.
What I wouldn’t give for some coke right now. Hell, I don’t even do heroin, but I’d take that over this.
“Breathe,” his gruff voice says.
His pale green eyes gaze directly into my brown. When I was twelve, we went on a field trip to the zoo and one of the zookeepers warned us of the dangers of looking the large silverback gorilla in the eyes. For some reason that memory is brought back to me. My brain is screaming for me to look away, but I can’t.
The giant grabs my hand and places it on his chest. Underneath my palm, his heart beats strong and steady. Nothing like the frantic beating of mine.
“Focus on me,” he says, when my eyes start to shut again.
I gaze back at him, taking in his features like an art critic examining a painting. Never have I seen such a gorgeous specimen. He looks unreal. His face has an oblong shape with eyes so hauntingly beautiful they send a shiver up my spine. They are heavy-lidded and almond shaped, but it’s the intensity of the light mint green orbs that draws you in. His nose is very Greek, and his plump lips are enticing despite the pale line that cut into the bottom one.
I notice there are a lot of old pale lines on his face. One cuts into his brow; another is under his right eye. He has a long one on his forehead that seems to go back into his hair line. This man has been in some fights, or accidents, I don’t know which. His dark blonde hair is pulled up into a lazy messy bun on top of his head. For a moment, I wonder what it would look like hanging down.
“You’re so beautiful.” The dumb words fly out of my mouth like diarrhea. I can’t be held accountable for what I say, my brain is fighting through little sleep and a panic attack. The fact that I’m forming actual words is a miracle.
The giant’s brow pinches as he watches me. He lets my hand go so suddenly it falls from his chest back down to my side.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I gasp.
This is the problem with me. It’s why Trina warned me not to be myself. Where normal people would scream or run for help, my brain seems to think of the most random and stupidest things to say.
The giant takes a few steps back, keeping his narrowed gaze on me as if I’m the murderer in the room. He then turns his back to me, his fist tightened at his side and his wide shoulders lift and fall rapidly. Is he about to have a panic attack too?
I take a step in his direction and the bloody carpet underneath me squelches.
His head turns slightly to his right shoulder.
“Don’t.” The word comes out like a whip striking through the air and I immediately freeze.
It’s then I realize, while I’ve been distracted by my own shit and his looks, I forgot that the man is obviously a killer and I’m trapped in here with him.
My gaze bounces around the room for a weapon, there aren’t any. Well, unless you count the hammer, hack saw, and power drill on the bed. But all of those are on the other side of the room and I would need to pass him to get to them. My only other option is to turn and run out the door. Hopefully, the size and height of the giant means he’s slow.
I don’t second guess myself. I turn and sprint out of the room as fast as my skinny legs will take me. I’m so close to the front door, I can taste the first sign of freedom. However, it sours on my tongue when my arm is nearly ripped out of its socket.
He turns me around and shoves me so hard against the foyer wall that I see stars. When they clear, the face that was once staring so intently at me, is now frowning as if it’s going to eat me alive.
The giant draws in close, his hard body pressed up against mine.
“You ran,” he growls down at me through clenched teeth.
