Page 2 of Where Daisies Breathe (Star Meadows #2)
“Oh.” I pause, processing what he’s implying. “You think he had something to do with why Clover’s report didn’t necessarily match what you saw when you looked at the photos of her…” Dead .
I can’t utter it aloud.
I can’t breathe.
Air in. Air out. Air in…
Just fucking breathe.
It’s not working.
I feel like I’m dying.
Being strangled to death.
Life is leaving my body.
Did Clover feel this way during her final moments?
Her glassy eyes stare up at me as she whispers?—
I throw the blankets off me and stumble out of the bed.
Ellis’ eyes widen. “What’re you doing?”
“I need some air.” I stumble for the door, the room spinning as I move.
But I manage to make it there, yank the door open, and trip into the brightly lit hallway.
I glance left then right and become painfully aware that I have no idea how to get outside. So instead I slide to the floor, lean against the wall, pull my legs to my chest, and rest my forehead against my knees.
Air in…
Air out…
His fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing tightly.
“How does it feel, Ava?” Jason asks me. “To know I could end you right now and there’s not a fucking thing you can do about it.”
I gasp for air, clawing at his arm, but it barely fazes him as he grips tighter. And for a moment, I want to surrender—quit fighting. It’s so exhausting—existing is exhausting—I just want to stop breathing ? —
Someone moves up beside me. I’m about to look up and see who it is when they sit down on the floor beside me.
Ellis. I don’t have to look to know it’s him. I can smell the scent of his cologne.
“I think you’re having a panic attack,” he says, carefully placing a hand on my back.
“I know I am,” I whisper hoarsely.
My vision spots.
I’m veering toward a cliffside where I’ll fall off into an abyss.
“Take a deep breath, okay?” he instructs while keeping his hand on my back.
“I’m trying,” I gasp. “It’s not working.”
Breathe …
He removes his hand from my back, and I think he’s leaving when he hooks a finger underneath my chin, forcing me to lift my head and look at him.
“Look at me,” he says, then takes a deep breath. “Match my breathing.”
He gradually inhales then exhales before taking my hand and lining my palm against his chest. He takes another measured inhale and exhale, his chest rising and falling beneath my hand.
I do as he says and try to mimic his air intake.
Inhale…
Exhale…
Air in…
Air out…
Just a soft breeze dancing across my skin…
“There you go,” he tells me in a gentle tone.
Another steady breath. The air is returning to my lungs, and my vision is clearer.
Once I’m completely breathing normally again, I lower my hand from his chest. “How did you know that’d work?”
“I read this article about how if someone is having a panic attack, you should tell them to match your breathing, and they’re body automatically will do the same.” His eyes search mine. “How are you feeling?”
“Better… I mean, I can breathe now, but…” I have to summon a breath. “All of this is a lot. And I’m sure it is for you too, yet you seem to be… I don’t know, stable.”
“I might be stable on the outside,” he utters with a frown.
“But I’m fucking furious. But I need to keep my shit together so I can figure out what the hell happened to Zoey.
And Clover—to all these other girls that have gone missing or have been found dead in this town.
” He opens and flexes his hands. “I’ll have my mental breakdown later. ”
I’m unsure what to say. Ellis having a breakdown seems as foreign to me as stability. He’s always been so steady. But if anything would break someone, this probably would be it.
“Aves, I hate to ask you for help with this, but I think I might need to,” he confesses while shifting his weight.
“If you can fill in the holes in your memory, I’m guessing you probably have more information about what happened.
Plus, whoever is leaving you those voicemails and notes might be connected to this.
You might be the link to solving this case. ”
Through all of this, I’d forgotten I babbled about the voicemails to Ellis. In fact, I think I may have overshared to the point where I told him details about some of the things that Jason did to me..
Did I…
Memories slam through me.
“He’s hit you?” Ellis asks me as we sit outside, beside the hotel building, with darkness blanketing us.
I nod as I sniffle. “And that’s not even the worst thing he’s done…”
As my stomach lurches and vomit burns in my throat, I stumble to my feet. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
The door is cracked, so I can easily get back into the room. I barrel into the bathroom, slam the door shut, and drop to my knees. Then I spend the next five minutes puking and dry heaving, something that’s become more constant in my life than even my lies.
But are those a constant anymore after telling Ellis my secrets?
“Oh god,” I groan, resting my head on the toilet seat.
It’s disgusting for sure, but my issues of plunging toward rock bottom are more concerning. When I do conclusively slam against the bottom of this seemingly endless fall, will I shatter or survive? If it’s the latter, will I ever be able to climb back up?