Catherine wobbled towards the center of the lounge's park, her heart beating fast like that of a relay race runner, and her vision was blurry. She had no idea where she was heading.
She held her head with her hands to prevent it from falling to the ground. She wanted it to stop, but it wasn't stopping.
It felt like a fog was closing in on her. Her mind darkened, and every sound triggered her more. Her face was covered in a cold sweat, and her temperature skyrocketed. The ground seemed to open, wanting to swallow her up.
"Aargh!" She screamed out.
She was struggling to break out of the tiny box she was trapped in, but no matter how much she screamed, it only got worse.
A thousand animals chased after her, gnashing their teeth and claws, about to tear her apart.
Her eyes hovered around like that of an owl. Yet, she felt light-headed and dizzy. Her whole body vibrated violently, with her teeth chattering like a falling dozen silver spoons.
Every breath she took felt like steam—hot enough that it burned her.
Her breathing became shallow, and her arms were being pulled apart by invisible hands.
Like a tree planted, she was unable to move. She slowly stooped, clutching at her chest and wheezing to the floor, fighting for more breath.
Sullivan hit the ground, running after Catherine. He was scared of what might have happened to her during the seconds he wasted trying to figure out what had just happened.
He abruptly stopped in front of the park. He dimmed his eyes and scanned around, looking for Catherine. But she was out of sight.
His face darkened in disappointment. Where could she have gone to?
Swiftly, his eyes caught a quick movement. He strode towards the center of the park to check out what that was.
On getting closer, something strange was there. He was trying to observe it more when his eyes widened.
"Oh my God! Catherine!"
She was unresponsive. He reached out his right hand to touch her by her shoulder.
With utmost speed, he quickly took his hand off her shoulder like someone who had touched a naked wire.
"Oh shit! You're burning up."
He got up and snapped his finger. His driver got the signal and drove the car to where Sullivan was.
He could also hear the chattering of her teeth, so he took off his suit jacket and covered her with it. Sullivan lifted her into his arms and took her inside his car.
The car tires screeched, and the driver rode off.
Sullivan pursed his lips, carving out a tense jaw. Worry lines appeared on his forehead. He reached out to his phone and dialed a number.
"Hello, Doctor. Please meet me up at my penthouse. It's an emergency."
"Okay, I will be with you as soon as possible."
"Catherine! Catherine!" Sullivan called out again, but she was still not responding.
Sullivan felt he had an idea of what could be wrong with her, but this adverse effect kept nudging in his heart. It was the worst he had seen, or could it be more than what he had earlier thought of? A look of uncertainty spread out across his face.
They arrived at his penthouse, and the driver halted the car. Sullivan got out, drew Catherine back into his arms, and carefully walked into his bedroom, laying her gently on his bed. He paced around as he awaited the doctor's arrival.
At exactly 9:30 p.m., Dr. Lancelot Greg, a private physician, strode into the penthouse.
"Thank goodness you are here," Sullivan muttered.
"Hello, Sullivan. Where is the patient?"
"She's upstairs." Sullivan hurriedly led the way to his bedroom.
Dr. Lancelot examined Catherine with his professional but curious gaze and wrote on his notepad while he turned to look at Sullivan.
"Does she have a history of anxiety?" the doctor inquired.
"I'm not sure," Sullivan mumbled.
The doctor exhaled loudly. "She had a panic attack. Do you have an idea of what could have triggered it?"
Sullivan placed his hands on his knees, looking confused.
"I don't know. We were just out on a dinner date when it suddenly happened. We hadn't even tasted the food we ordered before it happened."
Dr. Lancelot scribed more on his notepad while speaking to Sullivan.
"Not all panic attacks are caused by fear. They could be stress-induced, and..." he hesitated, glancing at Sullivan.
"And what, Doctor?" Sullivan's fingers curled up into a fist. "Can you go straight to the point?" Sullivan snapped in a low, stern voice.
Dr. Lancelot nodded. "It could also be caused by a reaction to intense emotional stimulation."
Sullivan's eyes darkened. "What does that even mean?"
"It means that the body sometimes could react to something even before the mind does," he said, gesturing to Catherine as he closed his notepad. "It could be she panicked as a reaction to something she desires but doesn't understand."
Sullivan nodded.
"I have sedated her, once she's fully awake, she will be a lot better."
Stretching forward his right hand to Sullivan, the doctor added, "Please take things easy with her."
Sullivan nooded his hand. "I will keep that in mind." He saw Dr. Lancelot to the door.
By morning, Catherine slowly opened her eyes. She was no longer in the lounge but in a massive master bedroom. The air carried the scent of expensive perfumes, and beneath her, she lay on a velvet bedsheet. She tried to juggle her last memory, but her mind was blank.
"Thank God you're finally awake," a voice laced with concern rumbled from behind.
He quickly walked up to her and held her hands. Catherine stared into his eyes, circled with eye bags, which showed he was suffering from lack of sleep.
"Where am I? What happened to me? And why can't I remember anything?" She saddled her face with worries.
"Easy, Catherine. I will take it one question at a time." He rubbed her chins "You're in my bedroom. You had a panic attack. I called my doctor to come check you out last night and he sedated you to sleep."
She raised her eyebrows, rubbing her forehead. "A panic attack? That has never happened before," she whispered.
"I understand, but you need to rest some more. When the table is set, the maid will come get you."
He was about to leave when he turned. "I have sent my driver to go get your car from the lounge."
She nodded, and Sullivan left the room, granting her privacy.
Sluggishly, she got out of bed, began stripping off, and strolled into the bathroom. She had no toothbrush, but her eyes fell on a mouthwash. She used it and also had a quick shower. She emerged from the bathroom with a white towel wrapped around her chest. She wanted to be all dressed before Sullivan came back into the room, even though she had no new clothes to put on.
A soft tap on the door made her jerk. She clutched her towel and went to answer the door.
"Good morning, ma'am," a maid greeted.
"Morning, Miss..." Catherine paused.
"Sonia," the maid interjected and stretched forward her hands. "These clothes are for you, ma'am."
Catherine's face suddenly lit up with joy. She now had new clothes to wear.
She smiled graciously at the maid. "Thank you, Sonia."
The maid nodded and left.
The dresses were adorned with beautiful, floral prints. She saw a two-piece dress that had her name written on it and decided to try it on. The two-piece sat perfectly well on her curves.
Immediately, Sullivan elegantly walked into the room without knocking.
He flashed a grin. "I see someone has gotten her groove back, and that dress looks great on you."
Catherine gave out a sheepish smile. "I tried."
"Are you ready for breakfast?" Sullivan asked.
Catherine nodded.
Sullivan opened the door for her. He held her hand as they walked side by side to the dining.
At sunset, the room basked in dim candlelight, casting golden shadows on the wall.
The air between them thickened with unsaid tension. Catherine sat stuck on the edge of the bed, twisting her fingers to avoid Sullivan's gaze, who sat across watching her like she was the only thing worth his time.
His expression was unreadable. What could he be thinking about? Catherine wondered.
I had barely touched her last night, but then she snapped and panicked. Certainly not because she didn't want me, but something else had played out. Even the doctor's report confirmed my suspicion.
Sullivan leaned forward, closing the distance between them. His voice was husky but firm.
"Catherine, are you still a virgin?"