Read Online Past Imperfect by Alison G. Bailey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alison G. Bailey
Tags: Contemporary
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had in a long while. After my date with Ten and seeing Brad at my door I came in and immediately started banging. I don’t know the length of time in minutes that I banged my head against the edge of the counter. I never know the length of time in minutes. I measure the time frame in how dazed I feel. I thought once about setting a timer, an alarm, to keep it under some sort of control, but I never have. I scared myself that night. I banged so hard and for so long I think I blacked out for a moment. I remember the last strike and then waking up on the floor of the kitchen, with an intense throbbing in my head.
I’ve been sitting in front of my computer for the past half hour trying to do research on a case I’m assisting with, hoping to focus my mind on something besides my anxiety. My leg has not stopped bouncing the entire time. It’s a struggle to read and comprehend these case studies, when I feel agitated and restless. I stand and pace the floor, hoping to get rid of some of this nervous energy. I walk to the kitchen, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and head back to my computer. I can’t sit. I’m too jittery. My breathing accelerates. I walk around the condo a few more times. I know what would calm me, but I resist the urge. I sit down but then immediately pop back up. My mind wanders back to seeing and feeling Brad earlier. I can still hear his low sexy voice.
I head to my bedroom and decide to change into a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. I run a brush roughly through my hair several times hoping that will be enough of a tug to calm me, but it doesn’t work. My hands tremble and beads of sweat accumulate across my forehead. I can’t take it any longer.
Maybe just one or two decent hits, and it will take the edge off.
I close my bedroom door and slide down it. I take three deep breaths before I lean my head forward slightly. With my hands by my side, I curl my fingers into my palms, letting the nails cut into my skin. My heels dig into the carpet and all my muscles tense up as I thrust my head and shoulders back against the hard wooden door.
Thud!
My neck snaps forward causing my teeth and jaw to clench. My hair rushes past my cheeks before settling back down on my shoulders. The effects of the first strike flow through my body taking the edge off my anxiety.
Thud!
Numbness sets in.
Thud!
Anxiety is almost completely drained from my body.
Thud!
As I bolt forward I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror across from me. I stare at the figure of the young woman sitting on the floor dazed, eyes glassy, and I don’t recognize her. I’ve never watched myself do this before. I don’t know if it just happened like that or I subconsciously stayed away from anything that my image could be reflected in, but this was my first glimpse of what I had been doing for years. Knowing and feeling it is one thing. Seeing it is an entirely different experience. The glassiness in my eyes is replaced by my tears. I watch them take over my face. Disgust replaces the numbness. What am I doing to myself?
The next morning I screech into the parking lot of the firm. I’m never late for anything, especially work. I haven’t been able to get the image of myself last night off of my mind. That along with the headache I developed and continuous thoughts of Brad made for a sleepless night. I feel so groggy that I had a hard time getting ready this morning. I grab my suit jacket, briefcase, and purse before jumping out of the car. With my arms weighed down, I struggle with my keys, aiming the key remote at the car several times before it finally locks. I rush across the lobby, into the elevator, and up to the fourth floor where my office is, hoping my absence hasn’t been noticed yet. As I step out of the elevator I’m met with sapphire eyes. Brad’s at the receptionist desk, talking with Tina. I smile weakly at him.
“Good morning,” I say, sounding as cheery as I possibly can.
“Good morning,
I’ve been sitting in front of my computer for the past half hour trying to do research on a case I’m assisting with, hoping to focus my mind on something besides my anxiety. My leg has not stopped bouncing the entire time. It’s a struggle to read and comprehend these case studies, when I feel agitated and restless. I stand and pace the floor, hoping to get rid of some of this nervous energy. I walk to the kitchen, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and head back to my computer. I can’t sit. I’m too jittery. My breathing accelerates. I walk around the condo a few more times. I know what would calm me, but I resist the urge. I sit down but then immediately pop back up. My mind wanders back to seeing and feeling Brad earlier. I can still hear his low sexy voice.
I head to my bedroom and decide to change into a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. I run a brush roughly through my hair several times hoping that will be enough of a tug to calm me, but it doesn’t work. My hands tremble and beads of sweat accumulate across my forehead. I can’t take it any longer.
Maybe just one or two decent hits, and it will take the edge off.
I close my bedroom door and slide down it. I take three deep breaths before I lean my head forward slightly. With my hands by my side, I curl my fingers into my palms, letting the nails cut into my skin. My heels dig into the carpet and all my muscles tense up as I thrust my head and shoulders back against the hard wooden door.
Thud!
My neck snaps forward causing my teeth and jaw to clench. My hair rushes past my cheeks before settling back down on my shoulders. The effects of the first strike flow through my body taking the edge off my anxiety.
Thud!
Numbness sets in.
Thud!
Anxiety is almost completely drained from my body.
Thud!
As I bolt forward I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror across from me. I stare at the figure of the young woman sitting on the floor dazed, eyes glassy, and I don’t recognize her. I’ve never watched myself do this before. I don’t know if it just happened like that or I subconsciously stayed away from anything that my image could be reflected in, but this was my first glimpse of what I had been doing for years. Knowing and feeling it is one thing. Seeing it is an entirely different experience. The glassiness in my eyes is replaced by my tears. I watch them take over my face. Disgust replaces the numbness. What am I doing to myself?
The next morning I screech into the parking lot of the firm. I’m never late for anything, especially work. I haven’t been able to get the image of myself last night off of my mind. That along with the headache I developed and continuous thoughts of Brad made for a sleepless night. I feel so groggy that I had a hard time getting ready this morning. I grab my suit jacket, briefcase, and purse before jumping out of the car. With my arms weighed down, I struggle with my keys, aiming the key remote at the car several times before it finally locks. I rush across the lobby, into the elevator, and up to the fourth floor where my office is, hoping my absence hasn’t been noticed yet. As I step out of the elevator I’m met with sapphire eyes. Brad’s at the receptionist desk, talking with Tina. I smile weakly at him.
“Good morning,” I say, sounding as cheery as I possibly can.
“Good morning,
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