Chapter 225 Chapter 225.

Her breathing came faster. She tried to slow it down, but her lungs refused to cooperate.

She sucked in another breath, but it felt as though the air stopped somewhere in her throat.

Panic surged through her.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. She was going to—

Kylie scrambled off the couch.

Her knees hit the floor.

She grabbed the edge of the coffee table, trying to steady herself, but her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t hold on.

The room blurred.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

She could hear her father laughing. The voice in her memory pushed themselves forward. "You just needed a little attention. Ben could not have been able to resist you." He had said.

She clapped her hand over her ear.

"Stop!" Her voice echoed through the apartment.

The memories didn’t stop. They came faster. She remembered Ben’s large palms on her eight years old face as he desperately tried to keep her quiet.

Kylie tried to stand.

Her legs gave way.

She caught herself against the couch and sank onto the floor, with her back pressed against the cushions.

She couldn’t get enough air.

She felt dizzy.

Her hands tingled. She pressed them against her knees, trying to force herself to stay still.

"You’re okay," she whispered.

The words sounded foreign.

"You’re okay. You’re okay." She sniffed. "You’re okay, Kylie."

She wasn’t. She couldn’t make herself believe it. She looked around the room desperately, searching for something familiar.

Her eyes landed on the framed photograph on the shelf.

It was a photograph of her and Emilia at the beach, both of them squinting in the sunlight, with Emilia’s arm wrapped around her neck.

Kylie stared at the photograph.

They were laughing. She remembered the day.

They had gone to the beach because Kylie had been having a terrible week, and Emilia had declared that the only reasonable solution was to let the ocean steal her problems.

Kylie had spent half the afternoon complaining about the sand. Emilia had spent the other half trying to push her into the water.

They had laughed until their stomachs hurt. Kylie had felt happy.

The memory hurt so much that she had to look away.

Her breath hitched.

A sob tore out of her. She bent forward, wrapping her arms around herself. She wanted to disappear.

She just wanted to stop being visible.

But even with her face buried against her knees, she could still hear him.

Kylie squeezed her eyes shut. "No."

She pressed her palms against her ears, but the voice wasn’t coming from the room. It was inside her head, lodged somewhere deep enough that she couldn’t reach it.

"No, no, no." Her chest tightened again.

She tried to take a deep breath in, qnd breathe out. Simple. Except the breath caught halfway.

She tried again.

Nothing seemed to reach the bottom of her lungs.

Her next inhale came in a short, desperate gasp, and that frightened her so badly that she immediately tried to take another.

It came faster.

Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat.

She pressed a trembling hand to her chest.

"Stop," she whispered. "Please, just stop."

Her body didn’t listen.

A strange prickling sensation spread through her fingers. She rubbed them together, but the sensation only intensified. Her hands felt distant from her, almost as if they belonged to somebody else.

She tried to stand, and the room tilted.

Kylie caught the edge of the couch, her knees trembling beneath her. She stared at the floor, willing it to stay where it was.

She needed water. She needed to open a window.

She needed—

What if you stop breathing?

The thought arrived so suddenly that her stomach lurched.

She dragged in another breath. It was too quick, and too shallow. Her mouth had gone dry, and she couldn’t seem to swallow properly.

She knew she was breathing. Some distant, rational part of her understood that. Air was moving in and out of her lungs. But it didn’t feel like enough.

It didn’t feel like she could get enough.

Her body was telling her she was in danger, and every attempt to convince herself otherwise only made her more frightened.

Kylie stumbled toward the window.

Her fingers fumbled with the curtains. She pulled them apart so violently that one of the hooks came loose.

Sunlight flooded the room.

She blinked against it.

The world looked exactly the same.

She pressed her forehead against the cool window glass.

"I’m here," she whispered.

The words barely made it past her lips.

"I’m here. I’m—" Her breath broke into another sob.

She was eight years old again.

Eight years old, sitting on the edge of a bed with her hands clenched in her lap, trying to explain something she didn’t have the words for.

She remembered the shame of it. The way her father’s face had changed as she spoke. The way he had looked at her as though she had brought him an inconvenience instead of a child who needed help.

She remembered waiting for him to tell her that she was safe. Instead, he had asked what she had done to encourage it.

Kylie pulled away from the window.

"Stop." She gasped.

Her legs were shaking. Her chest hurt from the effort of breathing so quickly, and the room seemed to be shrinking around her.

She needed somebody. The realization came with another wave of fear.

She had sent Emilia away. She had told her to leave.

She had watched her best friend walk out of the apartment because she couldn’t bear the thought of being seen falling apart.

Now she wanted her back so badly that it felt like another kind of pain.

Kylie turned toward the door.

She couldn’t remember crossing the living room. One moment, she was beside the window; the next, she was stumbling yowards the door, with one hand dragging along the wall to keep herself upright.

Her shoulder struck the doorframe.

She barely felt it. "Emilia?"

Her voice was too small.

She swallowed and tried again, but her throat had tightened around the name. She reached the front door and grabbed the handle.

For one terrible second, her fingers wouldn’t close properly around it. The lock turned.

Kylie pulled the door open and stumbled into the corridor.

"Emilia!" The name echoed down the hallway.

She gripped the doorframe, struggling to stay upright as another sob shook her body.

"Emilia!"

The elevator was at the far end of the corridor.

Its doors slid open.

Emilia stepped out with a small grocery bag hanging from one hand. She had only gone down the street to buy a few things, hoping to give Kylie some space without leaving her completely alone.

There was a loaf of bread sticking out of the bag, along with a bottle of water and a packet of biscuits.

She looked up at the sound of her name. The grocery bag slipped from her hand when she saw Kylie.

It hit the floor, spilling its contents across the corridor.

Emilia didn’t look back.

She ran. "Kylie!"

Kylie tried to move toward her, but her knees felt weak. She reached out blindly, her fingers opening and closing as if she couldn’t quite remember how to ask for help.

Emilia caught her before she could stumble.

The moment her arms closed around Kylie, Kylie clutched the front of her shirt.

"I’m—" She tried to speak, but the word dissolved into a sob. She shook her head desperately, drawing in another ragged breath. "I can’t breathe."