Body Lock by Kimmie Easley Page B

I’m going to buy a gun.”
    I gripped the chair in front me and waited for the hammer to drop. Instead, Megan looked point blank at me and drew her lips into a hard line.
    “Like hell you are.” The stone expression on her face never changed as the words escaped through her clenched teeth.
    “Look, I don’t want to get into this with you. I know how you feel. I always know how you feel. Let’s just skip the big argument.” My chest heaved from the quick breaths. The anxiety was kicking in. I didn’t have it in me for another knock down drag out.
    “Dammit, Dakota. Don’t walk away from me.” Megan followed me to my room where I tried to shut the door, but she was too quick. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
    My breakfast sloshed around in my stomach. “Nothing has gotten into me. Why does everything have to be a fucking fight with you lately?” My insides were twisted in knots.
    “You know why. And you’re not bringing a gun into this apartment.”
    “I am a grown ass adult. You’re not my mother. Besides, this is my apartment. If you don’t like how I live, go find yourself another place to live.”
    I instantly regretted the words. Megan’s head snapped back as if I had just slapped her across the face.
    “Come on, Megan. You know I didn’t mean that. I just want to able to live my own life. I’ve been doing it for a long time now. You have to trust me.”
    I noticed the glint in her eyes soften, the anger fading to hurt. Thinking about it made my chest tighten. She crossed the tiny living room and grabbed her shoulder bag without saying a word.
    I really screwed up this time. Megan was the only person in the entire world who gave two shits about me. The left over emotions from the encounter flooded my head as anxiety crept from deep in my gut.
    It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
    I’ve been masquerading through life for eight months now. The angst is exhausting. I’m tired. I thought it would get easier being without him, but instead I feel as if I’m suffocating. I can’t seem to get enough air and my heart is shriveling up in my chest.
    I want him back. I want to touch him, to feel my skin on his, to feel the brush of his lips across mine as he leaves for work in the morning.
    I want him to back.
    I stripped away his old t-shirt, the one I never sleep without, and started the hot water for the shower. The water was steaming, and more importantly, pain inducing. I stood in front the medicine cabinet, staring at myself. My haggard face was pale, more so than usual. There were enough pills on the other side of that mirror to end my misery in a matter of seconds. I must have considered the possibility a hundred different times since he’s been gone. But in all that time, I’ve never been able to pull the proverbial trigger.
    I stepped into the shower, ignoring the harsh sting of the scalding water, allowing it to pebble off my face. The saltiness of my tears nipped at my sensitive flesh. It was the only time I allowed myself the indulgence of a release. I have a horrible habit of holding everything in just to make others more comfortable.
    I just want him back.
    ***
    A fter beating myself up all day over the fight with Megan, there was no way I could go get the gun. Not yet anyway. Megan was right; I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I scrubbed every inch of the apartment, minus Megan’s room. I even tried to take a nap, but I was still a bustling ball of energy.
    I can’t handle being alone. The walls felt as if they were closing in and my throat tightened, as if a vice was squeezing off my air supply. With shaking hands, I grabbed my wallet and rushed out the door, gasping for fresh air as I all but fell down the four flights of stairs.
    The bones in my ankle popped with every step. The snapping caused me to flinch, but I never slowed down. Rain drizzled onto the sidewalk. The cool droplets were a welcome distraction. I tilted my flushed face towards the sky. The earthy smell of