Page 27 of Stalked By the Alphas

26

HAZEL

As soon as Carter leaves, I slump against the counter, my mind reeling. What just happened? How did I go from smashing a creepy, masked figurine to agreeing to stay with Carter?

Part of me is screaming that this is a terrible idea. Carter represents a past I’ve been running from for years. But another part, a desperate, lonely part, is clinging to the lifeline he’s thrown me.

I busy myself with tidying the shop, trying to calm my racing thoughts. The routine tasks help keep me calm somewhat, but I can’t shake the surreal feeling of having Carter back in my life so suddenly.

As I’m restocking a shelf, movement outside the window catches my eye. For a split second, I swear I see a figure in a white, half mask staring at me from across the street. My heart leaps into my throat, and I stifle a scream as a car drives past, blocking him from view. The pavement is empty after the vehicle moves out of the way, and I close my eyes, shaking my head. My palms are sweating, and my heart is thumping. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this. These hallucinations are getting worse. Maybe staying with Carter isn’t such a bad idea after all. At least I won’t be alone. But on the other hand, what if I hurt him in some way? What if I have a terrible episode, and I think he’s a masked magician, and I stab him to death in the middle of the kitchen? What then?

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Hazel,” I mutter, turning from the window, but something catches my eye, and I turn back to come face-to-face with my worst nightmare.

The scream that rips from my throat is raw and anguished as I see a masked magician leering at me from outside the shop window. I stumble backwards, knocking over a stack of books. The man presses his white-gloved hands against the glass, his sinister grin stretching impossibly wide.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can do is stare in horror as the masked magician tilts its head, studying me with dead eyes. This can’t be real. It can’t be.

“No, no, no,” I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut. “It’s not real. It’s not real.”

I count to ten slowly, trying to calm my racing pulse. When I open my eyes again, the man is gone. The street outside is empty and peaceful, as if nothing had happened.

My legs give out, and I sink to the floor, trembling violently. Tears stream down my face as I struggle to catch my breath. This can’t go on. I can’t keep living like this, jumping at shadows and seeing monsters everywhere I look.

The door opens, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Hazel!” Carter’s concerned voice calls out.

I look up to see him rushing towards me, his face etched with worry. Without thinking, I throw myself into his arms, clinging to him desperately.

“What happened?” he murmurs into my hair.

“I saw something,” I sob into his chest. “A masked magician. It was right there, looking at me through the window.”

Carter’s arms tighten around me. “Shh, it’s okay. There is no one there, Hazel. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

His familiar scent envelops me, soothing my frayed nerves. I cling to him, trembling, as he strokes my hair gently. For a moment, I let myself believe that everything will be all right.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper brokenly. “I’m losing my mind.”

Carter pulls back slightly, cupping my face in his hands. His blue eyes are intense as they search mine. “You’re not losing your mind, Hazel. You are under some stress, or perhaps your heat is due and throwing your perceptions off kilter.”

“I just had my heat; it’s not that!” I cry and then shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You don’t need this in your life when you are trying to find yourself. I’ll be fine. You can go back to your home, and you don’t have to worry about me. ”

Carter’s grip on me tightens slightly as he shakes his head. “Hazel, I’m not going anywhere. You need help, and I’m here to give it to you.”

His words should be comforting, but a chill runs down my spine. There’s an intensity in his eyes that I can’t quite place. For a moment, I feel trapped in his embrace rather than sheltered.

I take a shaky breath and gently extricate myself from his arms, wiping my tears. “Thank you, Carter. I’m sorry for falling apart like that.”

He smiles softly. “You have nothing to apologise for. Now, let’s get you to the doctor’s office. Maybe they can sneak you in a bit early.”

I nod, grateful for the distraction. As I gather my things, Carter’s eyes never leave me. I can feel the weight of his gaze on my back.

After locking up and cursing myself for another day of no business, we walk to the doctor’s office in silence, Carter’s hand resting lightly on my lower back. The familiar touch comforts and unsettles me.

At the office, Carter talks to the receptionist while I slump into a seat, staring at the wall opposite me. Moments later, he takes a seat next to me and says, “They’re getting you in next.”

I nod slowly, not sure what to make of that, but moments later, my name is called, and I head into the exam room. I glance back to see him watching me intently. The doctor listens patiently as I describe my symptoms, carefully mentioning the masked magicians in case he thinks I’m completely certifiable .

“It sounds like you’re dealing with some severe anxiety, possibly even PTSD,” the doctor says gently. “Is there anything that you think might be triggering this response?”

“Possibly,” I say slowly. “But it was so long ago, and I’ve never had a reaction like this before.”

The doctor nods thoughtfully, clearly seeing that I don’t want to talk about it. “Sometimes trauma can resurface unexpectedly, even years later. I’d like to refer you to a therapist who specialises in anxiety and PTSD. In the meantime, I’m going to prescribe you a mild anti-anxiety medication to help take the edge off.”

Panic flares up. “I am on some herbal tablets from the naturopath on the high street, but I think they might be making it worse somehow, even though she said they are safe. Would this medication have side effects?”

“The medication I’m prescribing may cause some drowsiness at first, but that usually subsides after a few days. It’s important to take it regularly and not stop abruptly. Also, you need to stop taking the herbal supplements. There is no data to suggest how the two would interact.”

I nod, knowing that makes sense. “Okay, thank you.”

He hands me the prescription. “I want to see you again in two weeks to check how you’re doing. In the meantime, if your symptoms worsen or you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to come back sooner.”

I leave the exam room feeling slightly dazed. Carter stands as soon as he sees me, his eyes searching my face.

“How did it go?” he asks softly.

I shrug, suddenly feeling exhausted. “He thinks it’s anxiety and PTSD. Prescribed some medication and wants me to see a therapist.”

Carter nods, placing a gentle hand on my lower back as he guides me out of the office, but I can see he wants to ask about the PTSD aspect of this. However, all he says is, “That’s a good start. We’ll get your prescription filled right away.”

As we walk to the pharmacy, I get the feeling that something isn’t quite right. Carter’s presence here at this exact time when I’m going through this shit is unsettling. I glance at him, studying his profile. He looks older, harder than I remember. What happened to him in the years we’ve been apart? At one time, I wouldn’t have hesitated to ask, but now, we just aren’t there anymore. And that makes me feel sad and guilty.