Chapter 4

The sound of shattering glass echoed in the sterile room.

Eleanor gasped, rushing to Chloe' s side. "You animal!" she shrieked at me.

Marcus lunged forward, his face contorted with fury. "How dare you!"

Ethan stepped between us, his body tense. But his eyes were fixed on me, cold and condemning.

"Enough, Ava!" he commanded.

Then, to my horror, he nodded to two security guards who had appeared at the door.

"Take her. Make sure she can' t hurt anyone else."

My voice caught in my throat. "Ethan, no! You don' t understand!"

The guards grabbed my arms, their grip like iron.

I was stunned. He was having me forcibly removed. Assaulted.

Chloe, from the floor, looked up, a malicious glint in her tear-filled eyes.

"Ethan, darling, perhaps... perhaps she just needs some time alone. To cool off. To think." Her voice was deceptively soft. "The clinic has a quiet wing. For her own safety, of course."

A quiet wing. I knew what that meant.

My breath hitched. The walls of the room seemed to press in.

"No," I pleaded, looking at Ethan. "Please, Ethan. Not a small room. I can' t... I have claustrophobia. Severe."

Chloe scoffed. "Oh, please. More lies. More drama."

Ethan' s face was stone. He didn' t look at me. He looked at Chloe.

He nodded to the guards. "Do it."

They started to drag me out.

The darkness. The confinement.

My mother.

The memory, always lurking, surged.

Dad, locking me in the bedroom. Mom, on the floor, her breath shallow. The pills.

Her eyes, pleading. Then... nothing.

Hours. Days. Locked in with her. The smell. The silence. The terror.

My claustrophobia wasn' t just a fear. It was a living nightmare.

The guards pushed me into a small, windowless room in the private clinic.

The door shut. Click.

Panic clawed at my throat.

I pounded on the door. "Let me out! Please!"

No answer.

The walls closed in. I couldn' t breathe.

Darkness. Suffocating.

My mother' s face, pale and still.

I slid to the floor, gasping, tears streaming down my face.

The terror was absolute.

Time lost meaning.

I drifted in and out of a haze of fear and exhaustion.

My throat was raw from screaming. My body ached.

Then, the sound of the lock.

The door creaked open.

A man stood silhouetted in the doorway. Not a doctor. Not a guard.

He was rough-looking, his eyes leering. A smell of stale cigarettes and something else... diseased.

He stepped into the room. The door closed behind him.

"Well, hello there, pretty thing," he rasped. "Chloe Vance sends her regards. Said you needed some... company."

My blood ran cold.

He moved closer.

"She paid me well to make sure you remember this night."

His intentions were sickeningly clear.

This wasn' t just confinement.

This was something far, far worse.