Scars (Marked #2.5) by Lynch Marti, Elena M. Reyes Page A

and blink of my eyes hurt. At that very moment, all I wanted to do was lie back down in my comfortable and warm bed and hide from everyone and everything that hurt me. The world would continue on just fine without me.
    My sudden unwanted visitor had other ideas, though. The pounding intensified the longer it took for me to let them in. I could feel the walls vibrate with the force of their persistent knocking. Groaning, I stood and stumbled as I tried to find my footing. Something was seriously wrong with me. Never had I felt so out of control.
    The soft padding of my feet against the floor sounded like a wild horse’s trot. Loud. Purposeful. Everything around me spun, and I had to take a hold of the door’s frame to stay upright.
    “Open the fucking door, Janice. Open or so help me, God…” Jaime’s voice carried harshly through the wooden entryway. His hand hitting the doorway persisted, and my vision blurred. This wasn’t going to be good.
    Taking in a deep breath, I shook my hands out. Tried and failed to regulate my erratic breathing. This, whatever it was, was something I needed to control, or they would commit me.
    Shaking fingers gripped the doorknob and held it tight. With my unoccupied hand, I turned the deadbolt and then helped the other hand in turning the knob. I had no strength.
    The door opened, and there he stood. Jaime’s frantic eyes met mine; they wandered my body from head to toe and took inventory of how horrible I looked.
    “Thank God,” he muttered under his breath before pulling my shivering body into an almost too-tight hug. “Why the fuck haven’t you been answering your phone? I’ve been worried sick!”
    “I’m sorry,” they were the only words I could muster up at that moment. His actions were scaring me. Why was he acting so scared?
    “Babe, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. You disappeared on me, and I…” he trailed off. I knew where his mind was heading. It was a dangerous place for the two of us. This wouldn’t be the first time I’d freaked him out with a sudden disappearance.
    Guess it came with the territory of befriending a psychotic mess. I knew what I was and didn’t deny it to myself. After all, he was the one that found me unconscious and barely breathing on my bedroom floor once.
    The doctor I was seeing at that time had been nothing more than a glorified pill pusher. If it was new and on the market, it was his latest cure-all. A so-called drug he’d prescribed had caused me to have suicidal thoughts amongst a plethora of other side effects. It almost cost me my miserable life.
    “Fuck, Jan, you’re shaking.” And I was, uncontrollable shakes that rattled my teeth. Funny, the room was at a pleasant seventy-five degrees, not cold in the slightest. Jaime lifted me then into his strong arms and carried me through my small apartment and into the all-white bathroom.
    With a trembling hand, I turned his concerned face toward mine. “I’m okay—”
    “Shut the fuck up,” he all but snarled, not letting me downplay what was happening. Inside my bathroom, he walked over to the closed toilet lid and sat me down. The separation was brutal on me as I needed the comfort he provided. For some ironic reason, this man cared for me. Too bad he wasn’t the man I loved. “Have you been taking your pills?”
    “Don’t remember.” It was the truth. I didn’t. Days and weeks had blurred, the last two months had become nothing more than a hazy thought. Feeling lost and vulnerable, I lowered my eyes and stared at the shoelaces of his boots. When the tears began I had no clue, but I couldn’t seem to stop the emotional downpour I was trapped inside of.
    My mother would love this. I’d lost it, just as she’d predicted I would so many times before.
    “Look at me.” Jaime reached out and lifted my face toward his. “We’ll fix this…okay? I’m here and not going anywhere.” Nodding, I let him lift me into a standing position and walk me into the