LIBERTY

Chapter XX

"Look at what you've done," he spat.

Libby stared at the body. She could see the life slipping away, pouring away with the puddle of blood. How could a dead person still have the ability to stare right into your soul? They penetrated her, stabbing holes into her own body.

"Look at what you've done!"

She whimpered. "I d-didn't mean to. I s-swear."

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"

"I'm sorry," she sobbed like a child. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"You did this to me." Lambert's cold hand grabbed her chin, lifting up her gaze to his lifeless eyes. "This is all your fault."

"No, no." She shook her head frantically. "No, no, I didn't want this. I never wanted this. I-I-I-"

His lips pulled into a cruel smile. "I never want you to stop thinking of me while I'm rotting six feet under. I want you to know that the only reason I'm not breathing is because of you."

Her heart hammered against her chest when his hand slipped around her throat. And she suddenly couldn't move. Panic pooled in her eyes. "P-please..."

His breath felt warm and damp against her cheek. "Tell me something," he whispered. "Why is it that you can still breathe but I can't?"

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes pleaded with him, "I'm so sorry," she sputtered through heart wrenching sobs.

"If I can't breathe, you shouldn't be either." His fingers tightened around her throat, almost crushing her windpipe.

LIBERTY

Libby shot up in bed with a start. She was coughing, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs ached, screaming for oxygen. She was wheezing, panting, forgetting how to breathe properly.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Her ears rung, her chest ached. Her heartbeat was still erratic, trying to make up for the loss of air. Had she really been holding her breath in her sleep? For how long?

Her hand tentatively touched her throat, stroking the faint bruises. The ghost of a man's hand – Lambert's hand, Axel's hand – it still lingered. It still had a hold on her and it wouldn't let go.

Libby realized she was drenched in sweat. Her face wet with silent tears. Her mouth dry. Her heart still beating, proof that she was indeed alive and breathing.

Dragging herself out of bed, she checked the time. A quarter to three. Still in a daze, she switched to automatic pilot. She changed her sheets before deciding to take a quick shower to wash away the grime and haunting memories.

Libby didn't keep count of how long she stood under the shower, letting the water cascade down her body. She wasn't even sure if she had used her shower gel yet or not. Why was she taking a shower in the middle of the night again?

Oh right, the nightmares. They have been plaguing her for weeks now but lately they were getting bad. So bad, that waking up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, was a normal occurrence now.

A knock sounded on the door. "Libby? You alright?" Aaron's concerned voice sounded muffled.

Libby turned off the tap and grabbed her bathrobe, she slipped it on before climbing out of the shower. Her wet hair leaving puddles of water. She wiped away the damp that collected on the mirror and stared into her own eyes. She didn't even recognize herself anymore. This was a different version of Libby, a different person. Someone that knew too much, saw too much and bottled up too much.