Olivia's POV

I burst out of the school's double doors, tears streaming down my face, the memories fresh in my mind. It's the first time I've brought those memories to light in 11 years.

The last person I told was Tom. He was understanding, but being from such a lovely and close family, I knew he found it hard to comprehend.

Anyone remotely normal would. I just thought sharing my story would make working with Freddie more bearable, that he'd understand why I am the way I am.

But I'm starting to regret it now. I thought I could handle it.

I clearly can't.

I'm about ten minutes from my Grandma's house, and I feel worse than I did when I left the workroom. I feel the stares of strangers burning into me as they see me crying, but none of them do anything to help. Their sympathetic glances are music to my ears, it’s not like I haven't been given them before.

A fresh wave of tears streams down my face, and my shaking becomes uncontrollable. I don’t feel in control of my body anymore. It’s like I’m paralyzed. I slump down against a nearby brick wall and try to focus on deepening my shallow breathing.

My hand instinctively goes to my heart, feeling it pounding too fast, way too fast to be normal.

My palms are clammy, and I’m breaking out in a vicious sweat. I don’t know what’s happening to me. My throat feels like it’s closing. My heart is racing. I can’t swallow.

My phone rings, sounding like it’s coming from miles away. I answer but can barely focus on the voice on the other end.

“Liv, it’s Tom. Did everything go alright with Freddie?” His voice feels like it’s coming from underwater, muffled and distant.

“I... it went... it’s...” My voice is raspy and strained.

Concern fills his tone. “Liv, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not... I talked...” I trail off as exhaustion overtakes me.

“Liv! Where are you? Please, Liv, answer me! I’ll come and get you.” Panic rises in his voice, but I can only manage the words “...round college...” before my entire world fades to black.

I remember nothing after that.

***

I wake up in my bedroom at my Grandma’s house, my eyelids fluttering open to a harsh beam of sunlight flooding the room. I squint against the light, my body aching and completely drained of energy.

Tom is sitting on the end of my bed, concern and relief plain in his expression. I manage a weak smile.

“Hey, Liv. How are you feeling?” His voice is smooth and soothing.

I glance around, confused. I don’t remember how I got back here. My hand automatically rubs the small scar near my eye, something I always do when I’m disoriented. “I think I’m okay. Just... tired. Please don’t laugh, but I can’t remember coming here.”

“Liv, you’re a little dazed and out of sorts. Of course I won’t laugh.”

His tone is soft, but something about his expression seems off. He looks upset.

“Tom, is everything alright?”

He glances down at his hands, a dead giveaway that something is bothering him. It’s a habit I’ve noticed since we’ve known each other.

“Tom, look at me.” He meets my gaze. “What’s the matter? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because you and I both know that would be a lie.”

Tom sighs and holds my gaze for a long moment before speaking.

“I feel like a bad friend, Liv. I don’t know if you remember, but I called you around four o’clock, and you sounded... off. You didn’t sound like yourself. I asked how your project with Freddie went, and it was like you couldn’t talk, like your throat had just closed up.”

I listen intently, desperation rising in me.

“When you stopped talking, I knew I had to get to you. You said you were near college, so I started searching. I looked for over an hour and a half but couldn’t find you. Finally, I thought to check your Grandma’s house. When I got here, you were already in bed, completely out of it. I don’t know if you came back on your own or... I just feel awful that I couldn’t get to you in time if you didn’t. I’m so sorry, Liv.”

I blink in shock. Tom didn’t bring me here?

“Did my Grandma bring me back?”

He shakes his head, looking as confused as I feel. “No. She said she found you here asleep with a glass of water on your bedside table. Did you have your key on you?”

I glance at the table. My keys are there, along with the glass of water. My hand goes instinctively to the scar near my eye again.

Just as Tom leaves the room, my head starts swirling again, and exhaustion overtakes me once more.

It’s not long before I drift back into sleep, my last thought a faint gratitude toward whoever brought me home.

Because I’m convinced I didn’t get here myself.

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Author’s Note: So, if Tom didn’t help Olivia and her Grandma didn’t either... who did? If you want to find out, make sure to vote, comment, and follow if you haven’t already!