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Ian.

CHAPTER THREE
     
    “ Pain is temporary.
Quitting lasts forever.”
    -Lance
Armstrong
    FEBRUARY
    GIANNA
    I couldn’t
breathe.
    Ripping the comforter from
my body, I stumbled over to my bedroom window. I flipped the lock
open and pushed the heavy window up. Leaning my face against the
screen, I shivered as cold winter air hit me. It wasn’t snowing
like last night, but the temperature was below freezing
nonetheless.
    Not that I cared. I was
always cold inside nowadays. Taking in gulps of the crisp air, my
heart rate began to slow down. The nightmares always did this to
me. I’d wake up in a full blown panic attack. It didn’t matter that
Josh had been locked up at a facility for dangerous teen
criminals.
    He was still here with me,
in my thoughts and dreams. Sometimes, it seemed I’d never be rid of
him.
    The nightmares weren’t
always the same. Some were variations of the attack and others
involved fears like Josh getting out of juvie and coming after me.
After so many nightmares, my mind was triggered to wake up before
their conclusion.
    My therapist promised it’d
get better, that the nightmares would come less and less frequently
before stopping altogether. It had been four months since the
attack and the dreams were still a nightly occurrence.
    Mixed in were sweet
dreams. The kind which involved hazel eyes gazing at me in
adoration. Those dreams almost made it worth closing my eyes at
night.
    Turning to glance at the
alarm clock on my nightstand, it was after five in the morning. I
wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep so I grabbed my robe and a
towel and went into the bathroom.
    Under the hot spray, I
leaned my head against the tile. If I didn’t get these feelings
under control, my psychiatrist told my dad she’d prescribe an
antidepressant for anxiety. I couldn’t help replaying the awful
night in my head over and over again.
    Even worse were thoughts
of it happening again. Every strange male was a potential attacker.
A guy who ended up on the same aisles at the grocery store could be
waiting for me to go out to my car. Another guy driving behind me
too long could be counting on me going home to an empty house. I
never left the house at night unless it was with my dad.
    Shampooing my hair was
still a bit of an alien experience with the shorter strands. Cut
right at my shoulders, it still had some length, but nothing like
what I was used to. I’d dyed it the dark brown color myself last
month, but went to a salon for the cut. My blond roots were
starting to show so I’d have to dye it again soon using the same
box of dark chocolate brown.
    My mom had hated my hair
at first sight when we’d gone out to dinner as a family . Three Fridays
ago, my dad had driven us to meet her and Chance at a restaurant
downtown, an approximate halfway point between our new house and
hers. Her eyes had narrowed in disapproval and she’d complained it
was much too short and my natural color was perfect.
    My dad had shut her down
without making a scene in front of Chance and the entire
restaurant, but I could practically hear the snap of her mouth
closing and the grind of her teeth. Her unhappy perusal at my hair
told me she wanted to say more and probably would at a future
time.
    We had Chance most
weekends and I spent an hour or so with my mom when we picked him
up or dropped him off. I loved my mom despite our many differences
of opinion. She had her issues, but I’d learned recently everyone
did. Not that I always enjoyed my time with her. She fluctuated
between concern for my mental wellbeing and the desire to have her
golden girl back.
    Still, I didn’t blame her
for what happened. I’m the one who’d chosen Josh and I’m the one
who hadn’t handled the breakup in the best manner. Take me out of
the equation and Josh wouldn’t have flipped out. Caleb and Ian
wouldn’t be locked up.
    School was hard. I hadn’t
made any new friends yet despite a few overtures from girls in
class. Friendship meant trust and