The Author and Her Bodyguard

Chapter 9

I think I could add "going to a movie premiere" to the list of things I had no desire to do twice. I would have happily stood in front of hundreds of cameras and interviewers and sung Frozen's "Let it Go" off-key and willingly allowed it to be transformed into an autotune YouTube video that I would never live down if it meant I could have skipped the movie.

It wasn't the movie's fault. It didn't know that a story about a girl losing her parents would send me running for the bathroom as a panic attack threatened to drown me. Art has a way of gut-punching you when you least expect it. Art is vulnerability incarnate. It shows you the deepest parts of yourself that have been hidden. It holds a mirror up to yourself, revealing the cracks and scars. And the movie was just that. It revealed everything I had lived with since I was sixteen.

I hadn't done my research. I forgot to ask what the movie was about. I had been caught unprepared, so I ran, which apparently was my MO lately. That lack of foresight left me sprinting for the bathroom, and shoving open the bathroom window, taking in large lungfuls of air, trying to remind my body how to breathe.

The bathroom was empty, allowing me to try and talk myself down from my panic attack without an audience. I spoke out loud, focusing on what was true. "I'm Laliana Summers." My voice wavered as memories of police cars filled my mind.

I scrunched my eyes shut. "I'm twenty-two." 

I saw police tape and crowds. "I'm alive." 

I forced several deep breaths before I continued. "I'm okay. I probably shouldn't have eaten that cheeseburger because my stomach hurts."

My heart began to slow down, my lungs began to obey and I moved on to thinking about what I needed. "I need to get outside. I need air."

Staring back at the entrance to the bathroom I sighed. I didn't want Aiden to follow me. He had made it clear that he was a silent shadow, and I had enough demons in my own life to keep me company for the evening.

So, like any girl who treats a movie premiere like any other day of the week, I transformed into a not so graceful escape artist and climbed through the bathroom window. That's what normal people did to handle their grief, right?

I hit the ground below the window outside and fell onto my butt, the death heels doing little to help me balance before assisting my fall backward. Zero points to Ravenclaw.

Ungracefully wobbling to my feet, I leaned against the outside wall, soaking in the evening air and letting it reset my soul. I hadn't realized how claustrophobic the entire evening felt until I was back outside, unwatched and unbothered by everyone.

I stood in a shallow alley under the cover of shadows. There was no light other than the spotlights that cut through the sky above, announcing the event that was happening inside the movie theater.

The sun was gone and the night was painted in an inky black tapestry with hints of stars that refused to be seen. It was like the stars were startled by the glaring flashy display that LA put out and scurried away to hide.

Stars had always made me feel less alone. Like there were millions of friends watching over me, encouraging with their bright smiles. But the stars were impossible to see in Los Angeles and I was left staring up at a vast nothingness, isolated by their departure.

Reaching down, I pulled off one of my heels, tired of looking fancy. 

"Excuse me," said a voice nearby.

My head snapped up and I took in a burly man with curly brown hair. He had a long scar along the left side of his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, stepping closer, his face falling into shadows.