Page 7 of Where Daisies Breathe (Star Meadows #2)

AVA

M y eyelids are weighted down as I attempt to force them open.

They flutter, but then they won’t budge, so I can’t see.

I can barely think, but I can feel . My senses are alert, like an electric current is flowing through me.

Then I feel it, a prick against my skin, like I’ve been stung or a needle has been injected into me.

“This is for your own good,” she whispers. “It’s better not to remember—it’s safer.”

Safe? How can I feel safe when I’m frozen in terror? Paralyzed. I can’t move, can’t see ? —

My eyelids fly open, and I suck in a breath of air while trying to sit up. But my body won’t move. Panic soars through me as I struggle to lift my arm and leg. Hell, I’d even settle for one of my toes wiggling. But I’m weighed down… by what?

Slowly, it clicks. It’s been a while since I suffered from sleep paralysis. It used to happen all the time when I was younger, and while I was with Jason, but over the last few months, it has subsided.

It takes all of my effort and willpower to calm the hell down and wait it out, but I manage to do so.

Gradually, my mobility returns, and I’m able to sit up in the bed.

I roll my eyes and blink several times, then shake out my hands and wiggle my toes, my gaze wandering to the sofa where Clara and Bailey are.

Clara is facing the opposite direction of me, but she’s still asleep.

Bailey is awake and is staring at me with this look that indicates he needs to go to the bathroom.

I drag my ass out of the bed, ignoring the shakiness in my legs as I grab his leash from off the table and clip it on his collar.

I take my phone and a keycard with me as I head out of the room, letting the door click shut behind me.

I use the stairs instead of the elevator, and when I step outside, the sunlight burns against my eyes, reminding me of everything that transpired last night.

I groan, pressing the heel of my hand to my throbbing forehead. I need some damn painkillers or else I’ll never be able to get through the day.

As I’m standing in the grassy area that’s near the hotel, waiting for Bailey to find the right spot to go to the bathroom, my phone buzzes from inside my pocket.

The noise is like bees in my brain. My fingers tremble as I dig it out, knowing it could be either my mom, Ellis, or Jason.

The latter is the worst, but when I see that the phone call is from my mother, I let it go to voicemail.

When Bailey finishes doing his business, I head back toward the hotel. As I reach the parking lot, my phone pings with a text. Since my mother didn’t leave a voicemail, I’m guessing the message is from her. I almost don’t read it, but sometimes the unknown can be even worse than the knowing.

When I check the message, part of me is annoyed, but part of me is thankful.

Mom: Your aunt and uncle have invited us over for dinner.

You need to be at their house by six. I expect you to be there, Ava.

After everything you’ve done, you owe me and the memory of your father that.

I’m beyond disappointed in your behavior yesterday, and if I could’ve found you, I would have.

Hopefully you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere, but that’s where my thoughts have gone.

You should think about what you’re putting me through.

Her message makes me think a lot as I head to my car to get some dog food.

Once I have that, I make my way back into the hotel with my thoughts mainly stuck in my past. I can recall many times when my mother spoke to me this way, and it’d often take root in my brain and affect my self-esteem.

Each time, her words fed my self-doubt. I’m unsure if she does this intentionally, but regardless, I no longer want her words to affect me so negatively, so I don’t respond to her message.

And I make a mental note that she’ll be gone from the house at six o’clock, which means Clara and I can get our stuff then.

That’s one problem solved. Now just a few dozen more to go.

When I enter the hotel room, Clara is still sleeping.

I quietly feed Bailey, then deliberate what to do next.

I could go back to sleep, but I feel strangely restless.

And thirsty. I grab a cup off the table and fill it with water in the sink.

Then I notice Clover’s diary on the table.

Faint memories trickle through my mind of me giving it to Ellis last night after my drunken meltdown.

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t leave it on the backseat of my car, because with all the strangeness happening, there’s a chance it might’ve gotten stolen.

Although someone is clearly aware of its existence, since pages are missing? Or maybe Clover did that? Why, though? What would she have written that she wanted to forget?

I’m unsure if I should read it, but I pick it up anyway. Then I get situated on the bed and open it up to a page I haven’t read yet.

With each turn of the page, it’s more apparent that Clover was drowning in grief and was channeling all of that into trying to figure out what happened to Zoey. It hurts my heart, and that sensation grows?—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

My gaze snaps to the door. Who could be here? Ellis? Maybe it’s just housekeeping.

I wait for them to announce who they are, but all they do is knock again.

I hesitate, unsure what to do. But finally, I decide to get up, pad over to the door, and peer out the peephole.

No one is there. Did I hear something else, like another door getting knocked on?

I grab the doorknob, carefully open the door, and stick my head out into the hallway, which is vacant. Shrugging it off as my imagination, I step back inside and start to shut the door. But that’s when I spot it.

A vase of dried-up daisies is on the floor, and a note is underneath it.

Breathe, Ava. Just breathe.

My fingers tremble as I bend over, scoot the flowers to the side, and pick up the note. One side is blank, but the other side has words scribbled on it. Words that make my heart practically stop. Words that should no longer exist.

I’ve missed you, Daisy friend.