Grey 3 (PUBLISHED)

Chapter Two

I may enter the building with confidence, but I am a mess on the inside. Like, my little brain people are scrambling around, throwing paper and coffee all around, mess. I shouldn't be this nervous, though. I have been preparing for this very moment for a very long time. I have been given advice and information about basically half the people in this building via Matthew, whom I am very excited to see in person.

The last time I saw him was when I was at the hospital. After he had gotten one look at how sick and weak I was, I told him I didn't want to chat with him like that. I promised that the next time he saw me, I'd look healthy and prepared. And I do, so I wipe my sweaty palms along my pencil skirt and take a deep breath. I have had plenty of time to rest and get better. An entire month, to be exact. The doctor approved me for this, barely, and I will not let this opportunity pass me by.

You can do this, Liv, I coach myself.

"I can do this," I tell myself in a whisper.

I walk up to the metal detector I have to pass to get to the elevators. Matthew told me I had to go to the very top. I don't know how many floors this building has, but since I could barely see it through the throng of clouds. I won't lie and say I wasn't intimidated when I got out of Grey's car. I had half a mind to turn around and get back in, letting him take me home and watch Rom-coms at my request since I'm still 'healing on the inside.' I've been having lots of privilege since the incident, but I shouldn't take advantage of it. I really shouldn't...

"I.D., miss." The tall mustached security looks at me expectantly as I retrieve my bag from the conveyer belt.

"Oh, I am new here. Just starting today," I tell him with a small smile, but his bored expression doesn't falter.

"They gave you temporary I.D's last week," his monotone voice informs.

I was at the hospital all of last week for examination. I had been diagnosed with anxiety and PTSD, and the nightmares had gotten so bad that I had ripped my vocal chords from excessive screaming. My throat clogs up at the memory of blood. So much blood...

"Miss, I need to see your I.D. or I won't be able to let you pass," his rough voice brings me out of my muddled mind.

I look up at him to explain why I don't have mine, but his face morphs and a black bandana is wrapped around his mouth. I gasp and step back. "What?" he asks, voice muffled. I look down at his hands. A gun in each hand.

Oh my God.

I lean on the folded table in front of the scanner and try to catch my breath. Deep breaths, I coach myself. I clutch my eyes closed and take big breaths. I look around to ground myself, but it does not look the same as I walked in. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Blood is everywhere. It's on the pristine glass, on the ceramic floors, on the table... on my hands.

I let out a strangled scream when a gun is pressed to my side.

"Hey, hey, it's just me," a familiar, soothing voice coos.

I jump in fear and scramble back, almost tripping over my feet.

"Liv, it's me." I am righted up and held onto. I look into the blurry face and shake my head, my mind is scrambling. Everything is bright, too bright. I can smell the metallic blood, taste it on my tongue. My lungs burst.

"Get away from me," I wheeze, pushing my hand out to protect myself. But I will not be able to stop the bullet. It will pierce through my palms and strike me in my chest. I can't... I can't breathe...

"Please," I whimper.

"Olivia, it's me - Matthew." The hold on me is tightened a tad.

Matthew?