GOBSMACKED! Chapter 3

STILL no sign of Boris! But maybe that was a good thing. She was still shaking, and she was still trying to catch her breath. The last thing – the very last thing – she wanted Boris to see was her in the middle of a panic attack!

She needed to find somewhere quiet. The party noise wasn't helping her panic; if anything it was making it worse. Fortunately, she knew Declan's house probably better than any other guest there that evening. She headed for the side door that most people never noticed. She slipped through, and stepped out onto a quiet, deserted patio.

She walked over to the wall and looked out over the classic English garden – Declan's pride and joy. Breathe, Annabelle. . .breathe. She concentrated on taking deep, slow breaths, and finally, she could feel the panic start to subside.

She was just thinking about going back inside and looking for Boris again, when she heard a noise behind her. Her heart skipped a beat; maybe Boris had come looking for her! She turned. . .and her heart skipped another beat. She was face to face with the drunk from the bar. . .and he was between her and the door. Breathe, Annabelle. . .BREATHE!

"Well well well. . .we meet again, Sweet Thing!"

"Not for long. I'm going in now." She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arms and shoved her – hard – up against the brick wall. She yelped when her head hit the wall; she felt something warm and sticky running down her neck. Bloody hell; she must be bleeding! And she could feel the panic bubbling up in her chest.

"No. . .I don't think so, Sweet Thing. You and me are going to have some fun!" He grabbed her face, and tried to plant a sloppy kiss on her lips.

"Stop it!" She tried to struggle out of his grip, but even drunk, he was taller and heavier than she was; she couldn't push him off. "Stop it! Get off me!" Annabelle managed to free her right arm, and she did the only thing she could think to do – she raked his face with her nails. In retrospect. . .that might have been a mistake!

"You Bitch!" And before she could react, he backhanded her across the face. Her head hit the wall again; she was afraid she might pass out.

"Stop it! Please. . .don't hurt me!" Annabelle was shaking. . .she was struggling to breathe. . .tears were filling her eyes. She was in the throes of one of her panic attacks. . .and she couldn't see any way out.

"Ohhhhh. . .you're going to pay for that! And nobody is coming to save you. You wouldn't give me the time of day; you were too busy throwing yourself at that old guy. But where is he now?"

"He is standing right behind you."

The drunk turned to see who was talking, and that gave Boris his advantage. With his left hand, he grabbed the drunk by his shirt and pulled him off Annabelle. With his right hand, he made a fist, and punched the drunk in the face. The drunk went down as if his legs had been cut out from under him.

"Good job, Boss!" The bodyguard standing closest to Boris was smiling.

"Danke schön! But, I forgot how much that hurts!" Boris shook out his hand, and flexed his fingers a few times. Turning back to the bodyguards, Boris started giving orders. "Secure him; we will wait for the police to arrive. And please call Dr. Lawson; ask him to meet me here as soon as possible."

Just as Boris was going to see to Annabelle, Declan came out the side door onto the patio, quickly taking stock of the situation. "The police are on their way."

When Boris had pulled the drunk away from Annabelle, she had literally just slid down the wall to the ground. Boris knelt down on one knee in front of her with the intention of helping her up. He was shocked when he saw her. All the color had drained from her face; she was as white as a ghost. She was shaking, and struggling to breathe. Her head had fallen forward; he gently lifted her chin. "Annabelle!" No response. "Annabelle!" Still no response. Fear was starting to squeeze his heart in is chest. Finally, after he called her name for the third time, he saw her eyes starting to come into focus. And the tears that had been shimmering in her eyes spilled over, mixing with the blood on her face.

Boris took out his handkerchief, and gently dabbed at her face, trying to wipe up the blood.

"I'm so sorry, Boris. I'm bleeding all over you. And I've ruined your handkerchief." This brought a fresh wave of tears.

Boris shook his head. "Annabelle, you have nothing for which to apologize. And I have other handkerchiefs!" Boris smiled, hoping that he could get her to smile as well. But she was still struggling to catch her breath.

Boris stood up; he needed to get her up off the ground. "Annabelle. . .do you think you can stand?"

Annabelle looked up at him. . .and shook her head. "I. . .I don't know. I'll. . .I. . .I'll try."

"Give me your hands, Annabelle." Boris counted to three, and pulled Annabelle to her feet.

"Declan!" Declan had been giving instructions to the two bodyguards. He slapped them both on the shoulder, and walked over to Annabelle and Boris.

"Take her inside, Declan. I will talk to the police. And my Doctor is on his way; he should be here soon."

Declan nodded, and walked over to Annabelle. He put his arm around her and led her toward the side door. "Come now, Lovey, let's get you inside."