Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
My hands tremble more than they had the last time I was here. This part of the process was the easiest part after the first time, but with new faces and new protocol, my unease is growing.
When I walk in, the smiling woman behind the counter looks like she has already run a marathon. I have a scheduled time to be here, and since I have no intention or desire to mingle, I haven't given myself much time to get ready.
"Welcome to Catalyst," she says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
A sense of foreboding claws at my skin, telling me something is off, and I should run for the hills.
Blaming avoidance behaviors, I step up to the counter and show her my driver's license.
"I have an appointment," I say, my voice weak and unsure.
I clear my throat and attempt to stand a little taller.
"Caitlyn Rudd," I tell her.
She keys something into her computer, and my anxiety triples when she seems to have trouble figuring out what to do with me.
I vow that if I have to explain why I'm here and how things are to be done, I will walk right out and never come back. Having to experience this is awful enough.
"Ah, here it is," she says, relief marking her tone as if she has had more go wrong tonight than has gone right. "If you give me just a minute, I'll find an attendant for you."
"Female," I blurt, giving her a weak smile.
"Of course, Ms. Rudd. One moment."
I pull my driver's license off the counter and shove it back into the back pocket of my jeans before taking a few steps back. My fingers tangle together, nervousness making me eye the door. There's still time to escape, and I’m seriously considering it when it opens.
Before getting a look at the people's faces, I turn away, pointing my back at them.
My face warms at the sound of two voices, one male and the other female, as they approach the front desk.
"Ma'am," I hear from the other side of the room.
I keep facing the door where I know my attendant will come from. Whatever the other people have going on, it's not any of my business. I pray they give me the same courtesy.
"Ma'am?"
The voice is closer, and I startle, pressing a palm to my chest when I turn to find a woman standing right beside me.
She's wearing the same shirt the woman at the counter is wearing, making it clear that she works here.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper.
She gives me a kind smile. "No problem. Right this way."
I follow the sweep of her arm and still fight the urge to run out the front door when the direction takes me right past the front desk and the couple standing there.
Instead of being a coward, I drop my eyes and follow the attendant from the room, walking through a door on the opposite side of where I normally enter.
I haven't been to this side of the club before, but it quickly becomes apparent that this part mirrors the other side.
"I'm Roxie," she tells me. "I was able to look over your notes. You can use that room there to change, and then we can head out."
"Thank you," I manage before walking into the small room.
I close the door, take in a few deep breaths, and then take my time undressing before slipping on the provided robe. I don't immediately leave the room. I stand in the middle, staring at my neatly folded clothes, and remind myself that I'm here because this is helping and not against my will.
I've done this every time I've come here, whispering the words as if they're a mantra I need to remember to maintain my sanity. It's why when Jersey asked if I was there willingly, it struck such a chord with me. At that moment, it made me think there was a hidden camera or something in the room. I inspected the area when I got back and found nothing.
I jolt at the sound of the knock on the door.
"Ma'am?" Roxie asks. "We have a schedule for the cross."
I open the door, offering her a sheepish smile. "Sorry."
Instead of assuring me that it's okay, which I appreciate, she simply turns and waves her hand for me to follow.
The tile floor is cold on my feet, but I know just how cold things will be in the large open room where I'll be momentarily. The reminder of it makes goosebumps start to form on my arms.
The deep bass of a song echoes around me, the beat coming alive the further into the massive room we walk. I keep my eyes down, refusing to look up because I know it would only make me lose focus and the nerve it takes to be so vulnerable.