Page 15 of Framed Obsession

I can feel bile creeping its way up my esophagus. I have to get up. Get up, Axel. You need to get up. I wipe the strands of hair stuck to my face, my legs tremble as I reach the bed for support. I stand and gather every bit of strength in my body to make my way to the bathroom.

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot… right foot. I reach for the door handle, but all I feel is air. I swear it was right there. My eyes look ahead, and the room seems to stretch, making the bathroom door appear another 20 feet away.

Flashes of my past wave in and out. I can see my childhood bedroom. This feels all too familiar. I’ve experienced this before. I’m not going to make it. My eyes begin to flutter and I start tasting a sour bitterness in the back of my throat. I reach the air in front of me again, seeing my large hand being replaced by a child's hand. Is it mine?

My finger grazes something cold and metallic. I hope for the best while grasping and turning it. I don’t know how I make it to the toilet, but I do. Vomit leaves my body uncontrollably, as if the demons from my past are trying to escape. I wouldn’t be mad if they did.

Instant relief washes over me as I slump onto the tiled floor. My stomach leaving no remnant behind. I begin to level out my breaths before I stand and start the shower. I watch the water until steam condensates the air. I slide my clothes off, hating the feeling of them sticking to my skin.

I leave them piled on the floor, not bothering to throw them in the basket. I slide the fogged glass door open, taking one step inside, and then another. I turned the knob all the way to the hottest temperature. Maybe the burn of the water will be a good distraction.

I let the scorching water flow over me, feeling goosebumps prickle at the warmth that's turning my skin red. I reach for the loofah and soak it with body wash. Mint fills the air as I begin to scrub and scrub and scrub, as if the memories can be washed away. My fist meets the tile wall, and instant pain registers through my knuckles.

“Fuck!” I say in frustration. The shower wall has done nothing to me, but it’s paying the price for something I have no control over. A little crack ruining its perfect surface. My skin is red, my knuckles are red, my vision is red. Anger takes over, masking the trauma I just endured. I’m infuriated that I let myself get sucked in like that. I used to have control over my memories; now they have control over me. The whole reason I went to Parker Raines Therapy Center was to get a better handle on when I noticed my episodes were happening more often. Dahlia Rosen has to be my saving grace. No, Dahlia Rosen needs to be my saving grace.

Chapter 14

The Flower

My body turns while my hips dip, almost meeting the floor. My hair whips in front of my line of vision, but I don’t give it another thought. My knees stretch, making me stand, then I dip again. My hands wander over my upper body as I lose myself in the music, the air around me thickening with sensuality. I turn once more, hearing the clicking of my heels on the wooden floor over the loud music. My upper half bends forward, my hands come down, slowly feeling the length of my legs as they start from my ankles and make their way up to my thighs. Hair moving in all directions as I feel the movements coursing through, like we are one and the same. I stare at myself in the mirror under the low lighting. My mind is only here, right at this moment.

“Did everyone catch that? Or do you need me to run through it again?” My loud voice breaks through the music as I click the pause button on my phone. I turn around to face the class, making sure they heard me. Everyone nods in agreement to proceed, and I press play again, music emanating through the speaker.

“Okay, we want to see you all do it this time. Ready?” I watch as the girls turn and dip, a few of them stumbling in their heels. We have a few beginners, and watching those who have never danced in heels before is quite entertaining. They remind me of baby deer learning how to walk.

Z cuts the music once more, mid-dance. Some girls pause, not expecting the music to go silent. Others shift on their heels, turning around in wonder.

“When you turn, do it with confidence! Pick your dominant leg to flip around with; you'll have more control. Like this!” Z says, demonstrating for the class. She has them try it a few more times before restarting the music again. Even the simplest movements can be more complicated, especially in heels.

Knowing how to shift your body weight without stumbling or looking stiff isn't for the weak. Also, who knew teaching women how to feel sexy would be hard? We have a lot of attendees who join our classes to help boost self-esteem. We are all for women’s empowerment.

It's very important as a woman to feel sexy. First, because we are. Second, when you're not in a great headspace and you don't love yourself, it can take such a toll on you. We’ve had people saying it's cliché to take a heels class. That it is basically pole dancing, without the pole, which by the way, we also teach. But who cares? The amount of upper-body strength pole dancing requires is unreal—it should be its own sport.

The music cuts out once more, and I hear Z’s voice instruct the girls to take a five-minute break. It’s more for her and me, to be honest. We’ve been at this since noon. and we’re in our second class of the day. I can feel sweat coating my neck, dripping down my back, and it sends a feeling of distaste through me, so I head toward the restroom to freshen up.

I take a hand towel off the counter and run it under ‌cold water. My skin shivers as the cold, wet material touches my skin. My eyes look sunken in. You can tell I haven't gotten any sleep lately. I appreciate the girls in class not mentioning anything.

A ring at the door draws my attention. There shouldn’t be anyone coming in at this hour. I toss the damp towel into the laundry bin, hurrying to see who it is. My eyebrows pinch in confusion; there is a man I have never seen before, looking around. He is tall, pale, and good-looking. What is he doing here?

“Hi, can I help you?” I say to the man, approaching him from behind. Our classes are a man-free zone, so the women can be as comfortable as possible. He looks in my direction, confused. His eyes dart to mine, then back around the room as if he is searching for someone. My brows go up in question as I wait for him to respond.

“Uh, I’m looking for someone,” he says without explanation. My guard is up and alert. I can’t just let some stranger in here. Who knows what his intentions are? I eye him up and down, noticing something in his hands. It's a bouquet of flowers. Bright red roses, as if they had freshly bloomed this morning.

“Who are you looking for?” I say hesitantly, trying to get more information out of the man. His eyes continuously wander the room when he suddenly stops and smiles.

A squeal fills the air as I see Z running in our direction. She leaps forward, and he catches her by the hips, pulling her toward him. Her legs wrap around his waist, making them even closer.

Is this the guy she’s been seeing?

I want to be happy that she is happy, but a part of me is still unsure. She kisses him on the lips, then turns towards me with a big smile on her face.

“What a fun surprise! What are you doing here?” she asks him.

“I just wanted to surprise you.” The smile on his face is ear to ear. She squeezes him tighter for a moment before turning to me.

“Dahlia, this is Zane! Zane, this is Dahlia. This is the guy I’ve been seeing. I am so excited you're getting to meet each other!” she says. He looks at me with a shy smile, and I give him an unsure one back. He reaches his hand out in hopes of a proper greeting.

Normally, I would be delighted to meet one of Z’s boy toys, especially one who’s officially earned boyfriend status, but something feels a little… off. I can't seem to put my finger on it.