What's going on with this site? I haven't been able to update... I'm guessing technical problems that are not on my end for once.

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I continued out of the building, not realizing how suffocated I was feeling until I stepped out into the fresh air and sunshine. Without thinking, I went to Blake's truck, and automatically reached for the spare key he kept under the floor mat. I sat motionless in the truck, holding the key, and berating myself for letting Olivia get to me, for letting Blake get to me after all this time.

I tried to convince myself that it was not betrayal that I was feeling, because you couldn't feel betrayed by someone who has not been part of your life for so many years. Could you? I refused to let myself go down that path, because then I would start questioning whether our relationship was doomed for failure even before the attack, and all the issues it presented. Would I still be carrying guilt around with me for the way I treated him, and the way I left him? Would it be wrong to admit to myself that I am glad I never knew about his affair with Liv, because I needed him all to myself back then. I needed to believe that he would stick by me through everything.

I jabbed the key in the ignition, and prepared myself to put my conversation with Liv out of my mind during the long ride back to the cabin, and hopefully for good. Whatever happened back then, is no longer relevant to the life I have now.

I glanced in the rear view mirror before pulling out of Blake's parking spot, and the hair on my arms stood on end. My foot instinctively found the brake pedal. It was him standing there, lingering near lobby entrance, next to the bank of elevators. When I turned and looked back, he was gone. I knew I saw him, even though the little voice in my head was screaming at me that it was just a manifestation of all the stress of the past couple days.

I knew that face. I would never forget it. It was him standing there, watching me. I am not the type of person that lets my mind conjure up images of things that are not there. He must have seen that I recognized him and left, or hid. I glanced around nervously, while random images and memories pounded through my head. I picked up my phone, and automatically dialed Booth's number. I needed to calm down. I needed to focus. I needed him to tell me that he would be waiting for me when I got to the cabin.

His phone was not in service, so he must be at the cabin. Nobody ever gets service out there. I locked my doors and put the truck in reverse, feeling a sense of panic overtaking my common sense. It didn't matter that I was locked inside Blake's over sized truck, speeding away from the garage. What mattered is that he was there, that he knew where I would be, and he was watching me. That is what chilled me to the bone.

After several more failed attempts at reaching Booth, my cell phone also went out of service, and I tossed it on the seat next to me. As I put miles between me and the studio, I felt my apprehension lessen. I knew Booth would be at the cabin when I got there. We would discuss it and decide how to proceed.

I steered off the main road, making the turn toward Blake's house, when I saw the car just ahead, pulled off on the side of the road. The panic slammed back into me with full force. Even though the road the car was parked on was technically the main road leading to the lake, it is not be any standards a main road. Very few people knew about this road, and even fewer people drove it. It didn't make sense for the car to be there, but it was not my main priority to investigate it. My priority was to get back to the cabin, find Booth, and find an explanation for everything that seemed to be happening all at once.

I drove the last mile or two without any kind of conscious consideration of what I was doing. I knew I needed to calm down, but I couldn't make my body respond to my logic. My hands were shaking, actually my whole body was trembling. I could barely see where I was going through my tears, and my heart was racing.

I shoved the truck into park as it screeched to a halt. I numbly realized that our rental car was not in the drive, but I didn't stick around to consider the implications. I stumbled out of the truck, tripping on an uneven paving stone. My hands stung from scraping them on the pavement, and hot tears burned my eyes, but I had panic on my side, forcing me on, as I blindly made my way to the porch.

I felt for the key and let myself in. I stood in the middle of the room, half expecting to see Booth sprawled on the sofa, watching the garrishly large television. When the reality of what I already knew was confirmed, something clicked, and I realized how very foolish my actions were. I found myself wishing, not for the first time, for a really big gun. I could have been followed. I probably was followed. Nobody knows that I came here alone, miles from civilization, with no way to reach anyone by phone.

Suddenly, I was hyper aware of every sound outside and in. I tensed at every click or creak, and cursed myself for not being able to keep my breathing under control. I leaned forward wiping my sweaty palms down the front of my pants. I tried taking deep breaths to calm down. I almost convinced myself that I could do this. I could pull myself together, stop crying, get a grip.

That is when I heard the car. It was actually the crunching of gravel under tires that I heard, which meant that it was a fair distance away, as I could not yet hear the sound of the actual car. I stopped breathing, and all I could hear was the sound of the blood pulsing through my veins. I couldn't move or even think. My thoughts were a jumble of mechanical instructions - to breath and to move my legs and to hide, and emotional demands - to stop being such a wreck and pull myself together. None of it had any meaning to me and it was instinct that took over.

I heard the car nearing the drive and started to back up. I backed myself into the wall furthest away from the door. Luckily, the wall was there, because my legs lost their ability to support me. I slid down the wall, until my chin was resting on my knees, and I stayed like that. I couldn't see the door because it was blocked by the sofa, but it didn't matter. I couldn't have ran if the devil himself walked through the door.

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Sorry. I know cliffies are bad...but in a good way, right? It's time for a POV change, and that means time for a new chapter. It should be up tomorrow.

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