Free Hell on Heels by Anne Jolin Page A

damage and sidestepped the debris as I fumbled awkwardly to the end of the hall.
    The door to my apartment was ajar, and I bumped it closed with my hip after I entered.
    “Hello?” I called out, dumping my keys on the entry table.
    No answer.
    As I walked, I looked everywhere for any signs of disaster, the walls, the ceiling, the floors, but nothing seemed disturbed in the entryway, as far as my eyes could see anyway. I could only pray the rest of my apartment looked equally as untouched.
    My heels clicked along the hardwood and stopped at the mouth of the living area.
    There was a man standing with his back to me, and he was writing on a clipboard whilst looking up at my ceiling. I followed his line of vision, but couldn’t see what it was he seemed to be inspecting so closely. He was wearing a worn out plaid shirt with the cuffs rolled up his forearms and faded blue jeans tucked into steel-toe boots. Tucked under his arm was a black hardhat.
    He also had an ass I knew at least one man on this planet would appreciate, namely Kevin.
    He also hadn’t noticed me.
    “Um. Hello?” I fidgeted awkwardly.
    The man still didn’t turn around, and it was only then I realized he was wearing earplugs.
    Taking a step forward, I yelled louder, “Hello!”
    Still nothing.
    “Okay,” I huffed, and took another step into the room. “Hello!” I shouted.
    He turned in what seemed like slow motion.
    No.
    His face came into view.
    No.
    It couldn’t be.
    No.
    My heart arrested in my chest and my body started to shake uncontrollably.
    Hope’s ugly sister Fate was a cruel bitch.
    And she was about to have her way with me.
    My airways constricted.
    Clawing at the material of my shirt, I stumbled towards the breakfast bar in the kitchen. My purse crashed to the floor as I lunged for one of the chairs, but I was off balance.
    I couldn’t breathe.
    The flooding sensation snaked around my pulse like an ambush from the past. My aim was way off and missing my target. I fell knees first and then elbows onto the hardwood floors. If I could have felt anything other than the emotional pain searing my chest, the fall probably would have hurt. Every sensory part of my body was assaulted with memories like rapid-fire, each stab going deeper than the last as my forehead made contact with the ground.
    I heard him call my name, over and over again, and like a nightmare, I was falling in the dark with no way to wake up.
    No.
    I felt weightless, hovering over the ground.
    “Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away…”
    I wasn’t sure if I actually heard it or if it was only a memory, but my consciousness seized and I stopped fighting.
    I let go.
    The day went black.

    “I can’t.”
    There was a familiar voice in my head.
    “Tell her I’m sorry.”
    It was deeper than I’d remembered, but still the same, and it was getting louder as I came to.
    “Listen, it’s work. I’ll be home soon.”
    I blinked once, then twice, opening my eyes slowly. I registered that I was lying on my sofa with a blanket laid over the lower half of my body, and my forehead had a cool cloth on it.
    A man was pacing in front of the windows. Not a boy, but a man.
    I would have recognized that voice anywhere.
    It was burned into my brain.
    We all have that one person, the one that explodes into your life and roots themselves in the depths of your world and soul. You never know it then, that your completely and utterly fucked, but you are.
    There’s no coming back from that.
    It was like a club. Once you’re in, you’re in, and no one gets out, no matter who you are or how hard you tried. You were a member for life.
    Frankly, it was a miracle if you managed to survive at all.
    I had barely survived.
    My past was still on crutches, and my soul had wounds that would never heal.
    We were wounded because of him.
    “You’ll be okay,” Henry promised.
    Lifting my cheek from my bedroom floor, I shook my head. “What if it never heals?”
    “What if what never