ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond-Chapter 170: All I had

Chapter 170

KATYA POV

My foot missed a step, not by much but it was just enough to send the world lurching violently to the side, my grip slipping as the trunk jerked forward with a brutal tug that wrenched a sound from my throat before I could stop it.

Pain exploded up my spine, sharp and absolute, stealing my breath so completely I thought I might black out right there.

The railing slammed into my ribs as I stumbled, my knees buckling hard against the edge of the stair.

White burst across my vision, swallowing everything. I clung to the trunk handle like it was the only thing anchoring me to the world.

Don’t fall. Don’t fall. If I fell, I didn’t know if I’d get back up. My body shook violently, muscles spasming in protest as I dragged in shallow, panicked breaths.

The stairwell felt too narrow, too tall, too endless—like it was closing in on me. My vision tunneled. The walls blurred.

The steps doubled, then tripled, melting into one another as sweat dripped into my eyes and my hands went numb around the handle.

I sank down onto the step without meaning to. Just for a second, I told myself. Just to breathe.

But the second stretched. The pain dulled into something heavy and distant, like it was no longer fully mine.

Sounds faded—the echo of my breathing, the thud of my heart, even the noise from gina—until everything felt muted, wrapped in cotton.

I don’t remember standing back up. I don’t remember how many steps I climbed after that.

Time stopped behaving like it should. There were only fragments, the trunk bumping against my shin, the cold press of stone through my uniform, a flash of light that might have been the top floor—or might not.

Someone laughed somewhere far away. Or maybe that was in my head.

The world narrowed to one thought, looping over and over like a prayer I didn’t believe in anymore.

Just get there. Just don’t stop.

____

I came back to myself in pieces. Not all at once but in flashes. Cold marble against my cheek. The ache in my spine flaring the moment I tried to breathe too deeply.

The taste of iron still clinging to my tongue. My eyes fluttered open. I didn’t know where I was. The stairwell was gone. The endless steps. The echoing thuds.

I was lying on my side, half-curled, my cheek pressed to polished stone flooring that gleamed under soft overhead lights.

Top floor. The realization came with a dull throb of panic. I’d made it. Somehow.

My fingers twitched weakly, scraping against the floor as I tried to push myself up. The movement sent a sharp reminder through my back, and I froze, breath catching painfully in my throat.

A pair of heels clicked into view. I lifted my gaze just enough to see Gina standing a few feet ahead of me, her back to me now, posture perfectly straight as she adjusted the cuff of her sleeve like she hadn’t just watched me collapse.

She started walking. "Up," she said without turning around, I swallowed and tried again, my arms trembling as I pushed myself onto my hands and knees.

The room—or hallway—tilted briefly, then steadied. I could see the trunk now, abandoned a short distance away, one corner scuffed and darkened from the stairs.

It looked heavier than ever. Like it was mocking me. Gina stopped a few steps ahead and glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes flicking over me with open irritation.

"You fainted," she said flatly. "Don’t make a habit of it. The Donna doesn’t like weakness."

I wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or scream. This girl loves the sound of the Donna rolling of her tongue to be repeating it like a praying.

Instead, I nodded. A small, submissive movement. The kind that didn’t cost too much energy. Forcing myself upright inch by inch, leaning briefly against the wall as my vision swam.

My back screamed in protest, the bandages pulling tight, damp and unforgiving. Gina had already turned away again, heels clicking as she continued down the hall.

"This way," she called, as if I were a guest who might get lost. I followed. My head throbbing as I lifted it slightly.

Gina was a few steps ahead of me, walking like nothing had happened, heels clicking with calm precision.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. I swallowed, my heart beginning to pound, not from exertion this time, but from something sinking.

We were walking. Down the hallway. I knew this floor. Of course I did. I had lived here for months.

The realization hit me slowly at first, then all at once, like ice water poured straight into my chest. This wasn’t just any hallway.

This was mine. My heart started beating so loudly it drowned out Gina’s footsteps. Each turn, each familiar painting on the wall, each subtle curve of the corridor confirmed it.

We were heading to my room. No. Not my room. The Donna’s room.

My thoughts began to spiral, crashing into one another faster than I could catch them.

A room meant for a queen? I had been sleeping there. Bleeding there. Crying there.

Why? Why would someone like me—someone Romeo openly called his slave—be kept in a room like that?

No wonder Gina hated me.

The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity. To her, it must have looked like mockery. Like favoritism. Like I had been placed somewhere I had no right to be.

I had wondered before. I’d noticed the space, the luxury, the way even senior staff avoided that door.

But I’d told myself it was practical. Close to Romeo. Easy access. So he could hurt me faster. So he could summon me quicker.

I never once thought it meant something else. Never thought I was occupying a room meant for her.

What the fuck. We turned the corner. And I saw it. My door wide open.

My breath caught painfully in my throat. My things were scattered across the hallway like trash.

The few cloths Nonna had given me. Folded once with care, now crushed and flung aside.

My worn shoes tossed near the wall. A thin sweater half-hanging from a chair leg, its sleeve dragging against the carpet. My eyes landed on the sundress, tat one was cut in pieces.

My chest seized. Without thinking—without caring—I broke, dropping the trunk handle completely and ran.

My body screamed in protest, pain flaring hot and sharp through my spine, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

I stumbled forward, half-running, half-falling, collapsing to my knees beside the pile of clothes like they were something alive—something I needed to protect.

My hands shook as I gathered them up, clutching fabric to my chest like it could anchor me.

That was all I had. That, and the room behind that open door. The room that was never meant to be mine.

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