Every Bookshop Needs a Cat (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 2)

What Scares You the Most

Don't miss the second half of today's update. This is 1 out of 2. I hope you enjoy!

Love,

K. xx

***

Anya wasn't sure if everyone reacted this way to a threatening or stressful situation, but she'd always had an emotional outburst after the event. It had been a blessing, really. Except, for some reason, this time was different.

What do you mean 'for some reason?' It is different this time. And not because you care more for him than you did for your mother. Neither were you less scared before your delivery than before his operation. The stakes are just as high. It's you who is softer. Weaker. A crybaby. A wimpish moo-moo!

She started shaking in the car. In the waiting room of the clinic the shudders running through her were so violent that the nurse asked her if she was alright. Klaus immediately leaned to her, concern on his face.

It's like he's not the one who's going to have their chest pried open, and metal tools digging in their spinal cord.

"Anna?"

She tried to smile at him, and realised that a grimace twisted her muscles painfully. She pressed her hands over her mouth.

"Anna, what is it?" he asked.

Another nurse showed up, probably to take him into the ward. The first staff member who'd greeted them in the beige coloured, bland admission lounge, came up to them as well, and stretched their hand to the bag of Klaus' belongings that Anya was clenching.

"May I take you luggage?" the nurse said, and Klaus gently brushed his fingers to Anna's fist.

"I don't–" As soon as Anya made the first sound, something as if tore inside, as if releasing some sort of darkened, poisoned blood out of an abscess. "Klaus, maybe you shouldn't," she rasped out and grabbed his sleeve. "Maybe we didn't– What if we were wrong–" She jolted and made a gurgling noise in her throat. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry– I'm so sorry– I shouldn't be saying this! But–" She gulped air with a wide open mouth. "What if it's a mistake–"

"Give us a moment, please," Klaus said firmly and pulled the bag out of her grasp.

Anya wasn't sure what happened next. Her head was spinning, and everything around her was a blur.

Klaus. Klaus... Klaus...

"Anna–"

"I– I know! I should be– supporting you, and you don't need this." Sick rose, violently, her throat filling up with bitter and acidic bile. She glanced around, half looking for a sort of a bucket or a flower pot. She swallowed, cringing in disgust. "You're the one going for an operation, and they say it's important to stay optimistic– Klaus, maybe you shouldn't!" Her attitude did a one-eighty. "Let's go home please," she begged, and the first tears rolled over her eyes. "Please? I– I'm sorry, I shouldn't–" She shook her head. "I don't know what I'm saying..."

His hands lay on her shoulders.

"Anna, look at me, please." His voice was even and deep.

Her eyes flew to his face, and a second later she couldn't see him, because she started crying silently.

"Anna."

"I'm sorry!" she said louder, and then pressed her head down, scared of her own voice. "I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't behave like this. And of course I told myself I'd be– And you need to focus on your recovery. And– And–" She sobbed. A pathetic, pathetic, stupid cow! "This is not me! I'm not like this! I– I hate myself for doing this to–"