Chapter 43 Everything Feels Wrong

Chapter 43 Everything Feels Wrong
Shenell's POV

I stood under the warm bathroom rushing water, letting it pour over my head but my mind was restless and it kept racing faster than the water flowing down my body.

I stretched out my hand to grab a towel from the rail, only to suddenly realize that I hadn’t picked one up from the bedroom before stepping into the shower. I hissed and brushed water from my face as I checked again, just to be sure I hadn’t come in with a towel.”

“Fuck!” I cursed underneath my breath.

“Vincent… Vincent!” I called out softly at first, hoping he would hear me.

I wanted him to help me with a towel from the bedroom since there was none here.

I waited a moment, my voice cracking as the water ran down my face. “Can you… can you bring me a towel from the bedroom, please? I forgot to grab one before entering the shower.” I asked.

My heart kept pounding against my ribs as I thought about how stupid and lost I must have been to have come into the bathroom without grabbing a towel. It's just like a child who forgets to go to school with his writing and reading materials.

I stood there under the running shower as I kept hoping Vincent would answer and help me with a towel.

But the silence only stretched on, heavier than the shower steam around me.

Vincent didn't respond.

Panic bubbled up inside my chest as my thoughts suddenly began to tangle with memories of last night’s nightmare—the one about Detective Big Jay.

I swallowed hard, letting the water hit my cheeks and swollen eyes, trying to steady myself under the shower even though I was too weak to stand a minute longer.

But at the same time, I couldn't step out of the bathroom without a towel.

Almost lost in thought, I suddenly snapped out of it, now feeling more impatient than before.

Why the fuck isn’t he answering? I thought.

I ran out of tolerance and suddenly raised my voice, letting it break over the water like a cry. “Vincent! I need a towel, please!” I shouted louder this time, my voice cracking and echoing off the bathroom walls.

Then I waited again—for a response.

The water dripping down my back as I let my foot clap endlessly against the tiler floor.

But still, there was no answer.

Nothing.

Not even a whisper.

No footsteps, nothing.

My chest tightened as worry replaced frustration. “What is he doing?” I muttered under my trembling breath.

I was beginning to feel cold now and even the warmth of the shower suddenly felt unbearable, and I couldn’t help but imagine the worst—Vincent’s gone, hurt, or even worse.

The thought alone made my hands tremble.

I couldn't bear it so I tried again, “Vincent! Please!” My voice rang desperate and shaky.

“Are you there? Please can I get a towel?” I cried.

The silence answered me back immediately, and my heart pounded so fast it felt like it might burst through my tight chest.

I suddenly began to feel trapped between the water and my fear, and it made me panic even more.

I eventually ran out of patience and my fear and frustration finally pushed me into action.

So I hissed and stepped out of the shower, water sliding off my body as I walked to the door and slowly peeked out.

“Vincent?” I called again, my voice trembling.

Still, there was no answer—not even a whisper or the faintest sound of footsteps.

I bit my lip, my teeth pressing into my skin as panic began clawing my chest.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

Slowly, cautiously, I stepped out fully, feeling vulnerable, exposed, and overly naked for a grown ass like me.

My skin prickled in the cool air as I rushed to the closet, grabbed the thickest towel I could find, and wrapped it tightly around myself.

I pressed the towel against me as if it could shield me from everything I feared.

My hands shook as I cleaned up quickly, my mind spinning with a hundred questions.

Where could he be?
Why wasn’t he answering?
And most importantly, why do I feel this sudden, sharp edge of dread slicing through my chest like I'm missing something?

All of these thoughts—and even more—collided in my head, twisting my stomach with anxiety and fear.”

I finally managed to dress myself, tugging on my clothes and trying to focus, trying to breathe, while I pretended not to be scared.

Even as I tried to calm the chaos in my mind, I still couldn’t bear the heavy weight of the thought that I might be losing control of everything already.

The second I was done dressing up and tied my hair into a ponytail, I didn't hesitate before stepping out of the house.

My heart was still pounding loud and hard.

I was expecting to see Vincent somewhere nearby—maybe fixing his car tires or watering the plants outside—I just thought I could see him outside doing something, anywhere.

But the yard was empty.

There was no sign of him.

His car wasn’t parked outside either, and a creeping chill of unease immediately settled over me.

He didn't tell me he was going out.

There was no note. No call. Nothing.

“He just… left?” I thought .

My mind began to race as I started to think about multiple reasons why Vincent would step out without telling me.

Was it something urgent? Was he in danger? Or was this some sudden, inexplicable thing I didn’t understand and he thought I wouldn't have understood?

Multiple other thoughts consumed my head but I couldn't even filter out a right answer to any.

I could hear my thoughts thudding in my ears, heavy and loud.

I kept whispering his name under my breath, almost afraid to even say it aloud: “Vincent…” I kept trembling.

There was no answer.

Just silence.

I suddenly turned back into the house and rushed to where my phone was.

I grabbed it at once and dialed Vincent's number with trembling fingers, my pulse quickening with each beep.

But then, a strange sound cut through the tension: Vincent’s phone started ringing right there inside the house.

I froze. It was coming from the sitting room.

My heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, cautiously, I walked over to the living room where the phone was ringing from and was shocked to see his phone lying there on the couch—alone and vibrating.

No one else was around. No other signs of Vincent too.

My stomach twisted in terror.

Who the hell goes out without their phone? I thought.

“Why the hell would he leave his phone behind?” The voice in my head screamed.

What could be so urgent that he had to run and forget it?

Every instinct in my body screamed that this wasn’t normal and it made fear coil in my chest like something dangerous was right behind me, about to chop my head off.