“What the fuck are you doing, Hayden?” I hear Michael growl. My head jerks up to look over the top of my car, the evening sun is starting to set and there’s a glare that has me shielding my eyes.

Michael is standing by his barn, talking to his guests. The man with the hair is on his bike now and there’s a woman standing by Michael with another man beside her. She’s beautiful. Tall, skinny, with dark hair that shines and is silky smooth. She’s everything I’m not, and I can tell by the arm that Michael has close to her, she’s special to him. The man beside her is pretty spectacular too, his hair dark and cut short, covered in tattoos and definitely territorial about the woman. You can tell that just from his posture. Do they share her? I’m not stupid to the life of a club member. It wouldn’t surprise me. For some reason, it does disappoint me.

“What?” I ask, putting one load of my food into the backseat of my car. There’s at least three more inside. I’m running late…burning cookies did not figure into my time management plan.

“What are you doing carrying…that shit out by yourself?” he asks, and he has to break about halfway through the sentence to get it all out when his voice cracks—but then, he’s yelling.

“Um…the same as I always do?” I tell him rhetorically, not sure what he’s getting at and shaking my head because he’s acting crazily. I turn away from him and his guests to go back in my house, dismissing him from my mind. I’m in the kitchen loading up my second batch when Michael comes storming in with the hair-shampoo-for-men cover model, the other guy, and all of them are followed by the girl—who stands by the door. I freeze. My breath stalls in my chest, and I feel the panic literally crawling up my back. My kitchen is small. I’m trapped with three men and only one of those do I partially trust. I don’t have my gun and there’s someone standing between me and the door.

“Crazy woman. Are you trying to get yourself killed? There’s no way you can see those steps with your hands full. What happened to that damned Pastor? I thought he helped you with this shit?” Michael is grumbling under his breath, and he’s saying more than he’s ever said to me in one long sentence. Which might be good, but I can’t concentrate on it.

I feel a cold, clammy sweat pop out covering my body. I hear the blood rushing in my ears. Everything I look at begins dancing, zooming in and out—distorted. I do my best to take air into my lungs, but it doesn’t work. The pressure is so intense it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest. I can feel my fingers tingle and my knees go weak. I’m breathing raggedly at best, doing everything I can to fight through the fear and snap out of it. It’s a losing battle though. This panic attack is coming hard and strong, and I hate it. I hate it almost as much as I hate myself.

Michael is gathering the packages I have on the table, I want to find him. Maybe if I could find him it would help to center me and keep me from going under too deep. But I can’t, the blinding whiteness in my vision takes over, changing everything to a weird gray hue with no colors. I’m starting to shake uncontrollably, the carefully constructed tower of packages I’m holding, that comes up to just under my neck, begin rattling. Which causes every eye in the room to turn to me.

“Are you okay, honey?” a feminine tone questions, and maybe her voice is kind, I think it is, but I can’t be sure over the way the blood is rushing through me and the loud pounding of my heart.

That seems to be all my ears can hear. I start backing away. If I can get through the living room and out the front door, maybe I can get away. Maybe I can get control. It was a mistake letting Michael in. He was nice, but I just can’t be around people. Not long-term, even though I’m getting better, I’m just too damaged…too dirty. The desserts I’m holding fall to the floor with a crash. I shake my head back and forth, backing up faster. It feels like I might just pass out.

“Hayden?” I hear Michael, his voice laced with concern.

I stumble backwards, closing my eyes for a minute, trying to block everything out. I feel a hand touch me and I scream. It’s a scream filled with nothing but complete and utter terror.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ.”

“What’s wrong with her, Brother?” The men are asking, I don’t register it, not really.

In fact, I think I’m still screaming. I’ve hit the wall in the hallway, and Michael is here in front of me, putting a hand on each of my shoulders.

I stop screaming. Now I yell, “Don’t touch me!”

“Hayden, sweetheart,” Michael says, but even though it’s his voice, it’s not his face I see. It’s someone else’s. Someone else’s entirely.

“Don’t touch me!” I scream louder, pushing against the wall, only wanting to get away from the demon I see in front of me. “Don’t you ever touch me again!”

“What is going on in here?!” I hear just before I hit the ground.

“Oh God, not again. Please God, not again. Please…please…please…” I cry, rocking back and forth, sobs racking my body as misery fills the very air around me. “Please…” I cry brokenly. “Oh God…please.”