Page 54 of Wild Hearts (Ruby Ridge #1)

catalina

. . .

I tear the comforter off the bed, sending the plush duvet cascading to the floor in a muted heap. I move to the drawers, digging through them like a woman possessed.

Open, slam, open, slam.

Each drawer’s ripped out with shaking hands. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m looking for.

Then I feel it, hidden beneath the lining of the nightstand drawer. Exactly where I told myself there’d be nothing left. Where a weaker, wearier version of me once tucked it away like a secret weapon.

I pull the pouch out with trembling fingers, the weight of it seeping into my skin. It feels like guilt. Failure. Like everything I swore I’d never return to.

Don’t do it. Don’t go back.

I loosen the drawstring, spilling the contents into my palm. The bottle of Xanax slides into view, and the eerie sound of the pills rattling sends chills down my spine. It’s still half full.

Still waiting for me .

My throat tightens. I hear my father’s voice— “You’re just being dramatic, Catalina.”

When grief swallowed me whole, when the panic sat on my chest like a demon in the night, he didn’t fucking hold me like a father should. Instead, he handed me pills.

The high it gave me was addictive. That slow, seductive escape. The feeling of being inside your own body but not in it. Lucid, but weightless. Watching yourself from somewhere far away, where nothing could touch you.

The pale white bricks stare up at me now, tiny and unassuming. The color of numbness. The shade of silence. A feeling I know far too well.

I shove the velvet pouch into my purse fast. Maybe if I move quickly enough, it won’t count. Like, if I don’t look at what I just did, it’ll disappear. But it doesn’t. The shame is already clawing up my spine, wrapping itself around my ribs.

I stumble back a step, my legs weak beneath me, and crash into the edge of the bed. I slide down to the floor, my arms wrapping tightly around my knees. My body curls in on itself, and then the noise comes.

Not out loud. But inside.

Loud. Violent. Suffocating.

My hands tangle in my hair, yanking hard, because I need the pain. I need something tangible to drown out the screaming in my head.

I grab my phone off of the nightstand, I need to fucking talk to someone. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely type. My back’s pressed against the bed frame, my legs curled into my chest.

It’s late. Maybe after midnight, but I don’t care. My heart is pounding out of rhythm, my breath too loud in this silent, suffocating room .

I open the group chat— Bad Bitches —and immediately read the messages I ignored.

Layla

You okay? You kinda ghosted today. We’re worried.

Amelia

I’m serious. Say the fucking word and I’ll commit a felony.

I stare at their texts, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I type I’m fine , but delete it. Again and again. Then I finally just let it spill.

Catalina

It’s my shitass of a father. He came to Tennessee, unannounced, and literally dragged me out of Carter’s house. I know he said six months, but I wasn’t planning on coming back home. He just took me, just like that.

My thumb hovers, then I hit send.

Ping.

Layla

Oh my fucking god, Cat. Are you safe? Where the hell are you?

Amelia

I will kill him with my perfectly, black claws.

I sniff and keep typing, the tears sliding silently down my cheeks as I try to keep my hands steady.

Catalina

I’m back in Los Angeles, back at this fucking estate. He says I’m such an embarrassment to him, that being with Carter was such a whore move. And to top it off, he’s arranged a wedding, like a fucking business deal. I’m trapped, I’m so fucking scared you guys, I don’t know what to do.

Amelia

You do NOT marry that asshole. That’s what you fucking do. We’ll both burn down the whole goddam city before we let that happen.

My breathing stutters. I type slower now, carefully.

Catalina

I’m scared. I love you bitches so much, I don’t know how I’m still breathing right now.

Amelia

Because you’re stronger than you know.

Layla

We got you bby, you’re not alone.

I stare at the glowing screen until the tears blur my vision, the words melting into soft light. My fingers tighten around the phone, as I hold it to my chest like a lifeline—like maybe if I press hard enough, I’ll feel their hands in mine through the glass.

It isn’t fucking enough.

I set it down gently on the nightstand. The silence that follows feels deafening, heavier than the grief pressing down on my lungs. The room grows smaller with each breath I take, the walls inching closer like they’re trying to trap me inside myself.

I curl up on the cold marble floor, my knees pulled tight to my chest as I wrap my arms around my legs. My body trembles while I bury my face against my knees, trying to hold it all in.

The sob slips out, but I don’t care. My shoulders shake as the sound rips out of me. It feels like I’ve been swallowing glass for years, and now, piece by piece, it’s finally slicing its way back out.

“Mamí,” I whisper, the word fractured and small on my tongue. “Mamí, I’m so tired.”

My voice cracks mid-sentence, splintering under the weight of the truth. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to picture her—those soft brown eyes full of knowing, her lipstick always slightly smudged from kissing my forehead. Her hands smelled like cinnamon and love.

Like home.

“I don’t know what to do,” I breathe, my voice barely audible through the sobs racking my chest. My hands clutch the fabric at my sides like I’m trying to anchor myself, but I can’t stop shaking.

“I don’t know who I am in this place. I don’t know how to get out.” The words finally fall. Each one a confession. A bleeding wound I’ve kept hidden too long.

I swipe at my face with trembling fingers as I smear mascara across my cheekbones. “I keep thinking… if I just play along, if I survive it long enough, maybe someone will come get me.” My breath stutters. “Maybe someone will love me enough to drag me out.”

My chest caves in as another sob tears free, like it’s been waiting to escape for years. I fold in on myself, shoulders trembling .

“But I’m scared,” I whisper, pressing the heel of my palm to my heart like I can hold it together. “I’m scared he won’t get here in time. I’m scared I’ll give up before he finds me. I’m scared that deep down…” My voice breaks, choking on the words. “I’m still the same broken girl you left behind.”

The silence stretches, wrapping around me like a blanket soaked in ice. I wipe my face with my hands, but the tears don’t stop.

“I miss you,” I whisper. “I miss you so much, Mamí. It hurts to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.”