Teacher - Voyeur

She huffed a laugh, another smile trying to break free.

Just as quick, it slipped away, and she laid still.

“I love you, Sofia,” I whispered after a moment.

I waited to hear it back—waited for her words to wash over me with a protective layer, holding in what was left of the old me. I waited and waited, watching my sister sleep. Except…something was off. We were inches apart, and I couldn’t feel the huff of her breath on my skin. Her body laid too still. Her chest not rising and falling over heavy breaths like it had before.

“Sofia?”

Too many drugs. It must have slowed everything down. I just needed to wake her up, keep her focused on me. With a trembling hand, I gripped her shoulder and shook her. Her head lolled, and I shook harder.

“Sofia,” I whisper-yelled, not wanting to draw attention to us. “Sofia, please.”

Nothing.

I shook her harder, my body trembling at the way her arm flopped when she fell to her back.

“No, no, no. Please, no. Please. No. No. No. Please, Sofia. Please, wake up. Please.”

Fire squeezed my lungs and burned up the back of my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t focus on my sister, my best friend, with the tears clouding my vision. Stupid, useless tears.

I shook her violently, shouting her name, begging her to wake up, begging her not to leave me. I didn’t care who came in. I didn’t care about anything but seeing her eyes open and making me promise we had a future together.

Tremors wracked my body, and I clung to her. Pulling her tightly to my chest, I screamed. Screamed until I hoped they’d come in and let me go with her. Screamed until my throat was raw. Screamed until I had nothing left.

The sounds expelled in grief were excruciating, and mine would haunt me forever.

1

Hanna

“Hey, Hanna.” My eyes shot up to the woman hanging on my door frame, her red hair swaying like a pendulum. “We’re heading to grab drinks after work. Wanna come?”

You should say yes, the voice that sounded a lot like Sofia scolded in my head.

“Ummm…”

I floundered. Part of me wanted to. Part of me knew I should get out and go get drinks with my coworkers like any other normal twenty-six-year-old on a Friday night. Part of me knew I should be like Sofia, who would have had no problem joining everyone else.

The other part of me had a barre class, and a book waiting for me at home.

“Sean’s going to be there.” Scarlett’s smile turned a little devious, and she waggled her brows. “Angela said she noticed the way he looked at you.”

Instead of the flutter of butterflies in my stomach having a cute boy crushing on me should create, my chest squeezed too tight, and I fought the need to curl my shoulders in, sinking deeper into my office chair.

Sean was cute. Like, really cute. And if I closed my eyes and focused, I could sense the slightest tickle in my stomach, but fear made it hard to feel.

What would I do if I actually talked to Sean outside of work? What if he did like me and wanted to touch me like any couple would want?

Imagining his hand, reaching to brush my hair back, had a shudder working its way up my spine.

I couldn’t.

“Oh. Well.” I breathed a laugh and smiled, hoping she took it for flattery and not nerves. “I would love to, but I already have plans.”

I hated the disappointment dimming her smile.

“Okay. Next time,” she said before heading out.

It was nice of her to say because we both knew there wouldn’t be a next time. I always turned down drinks or any other outing that wasn’t work-related.

Very few people knew what had happened to me, so everyone assumed I was introverted—unapproachable. Maybe even a few assumed I was snotty or entitled because I was the boss’s sister.

The truth was, I didn’t like putting myself out there with anyone other than the friends and family I already had. Socializing wasn’t my top skill, and my words came out jumbled and awkward a lot of the time. That’s why I stayed behind the computer crunching numbers, letting other people handle the clients.

Scarlett’s words repeated in my head, and the easy smiles Sean gave when passing me in the hallway took on a new meaning. Had he been flirting? Had he wanted me to stop and talk, and I’d totally missed the cues?

“Ugh,” I grunted, flopping back in my chair.

I should have said yes.

Then I imagined standing too close. Maybe he’d rest his hand on my back to guide me to the bar. Maybe he’d leave it there and…

And I’d panic.

Intimacy had been the one thing therapy didn’t quite mend. Just thinking about it had my shoulders pulling tight and added building pressure on my chest. The one that built and built until I wanted to scream.