CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

VENITA:

The tiny bathroom of the jet felt claustrophobic as I locked myself inside, desperate to escape the judgmental stares and whispers of my colleagues. The disapproving glances felt like daggers, each one piercing my skin as if they were trying to tear me apart.

I could almost picture their hands morphing into grotesque claws, ready to rip my flesh apart with every step I took. The anxiety building within me was unbearable, and I needed a way out, even if it was just for a few moments.

The faucet beckoned me with its soothing sound of running water. I turned it on, and the noise became a comforting white noise, drowning out the world beyond the bathroom door. I was hoping the sound would keep my cries muffled, so they wouldn't echo beyond these walls.

The memories and thoughts that had triggered this panic attack haunted me. The pain from their judgment had transported me back to a time when I was truly alone, facing my darkest fears.

I couldn't bear the thought of coming out of