webnovel

Not a Doormat (completed)

This is not a tale of romance as much as a tale of survival. This the story of how Meng Yina attempted to break free from the fate of being a doormat and tried to live. This is the short story of a modern day slave. Mature themes warning. This story includes violence, sexual themes and elements that may trigger or upset some people.

Tonukurio · perkotaan
Peringkat tidak cukup
15 Chs

Chapter 11

I was stopped by a security guard outside a mall while I was running and half cackling to myself in an empty shopping strip.

"Excuse me, young lady, but don't run," the security guard said. "There are road works nearby. Don't trip and fall."

I slowed my steps to a fast walk and heard his radio flush and chatter.

"Wait a moment please, young lady," the security guard caught me by the shoulder. I broke free but he grabbed my arm. His partner hurried over to help him, trapping me so that I had nowhere to go. "I'm sorry, but is your name Yina? Meng Yina? Don't be scared. We don't want to hurt you, but the boss has asked us to invite you to a room to rest. You were with him and his friends just now. Please, don't leave yet."

"Oh, alright," I gritted my teeth, pretending obedience. The moment they relaxed their guard, I shot off again.

Who amongst the big shots around Sihao owned the mall? Who was that rich fellow? Should I get to know him better?

I dodged through the crowd in a street filled with night life and then through an alleyway to take a shortcut behind some modern looking building with blue and white squares and striped patterns. There, I ducked a man in uniform stepping out a back door that was so brightly lit by the indoor lights that I couldn't tell what colour the uniform was. But then I ran into a man standing on the path to a car park where he had been chatting with a bunch of guys in smart casual wear who were leaning against the wall, smoking. There were quite a few of them.

Coughing on the smoke, I backed up and edged around them.

"Sorry," I wheezed to the man I had accidentally collided with. "I'm in a hurry."

The mobile phone of the man whom I ran into rang and he picked up, while moving aside and frowning at me. I dashed past but the smoke had gotten to me, irritating and tightening up my airways so that it was hard to breathe. Ignoring my lack of breath, I forced myself onwards, determined to get away, but I stumbled against the wall. For a moment, I paused, holding onto the wall and struggling to draw breath. The wheezing grew more pronounced and I had to sink down onto my knees to try and find a way to catch my breath.

Why did my asthma have to be triggered now of all times? Smoke didn't always trigger it. Only sometimes. When it did, it was usually bad. And I hadn't brought my puffer with me today.

The world shrank around me. It was just me and my lungs, trying to breathe.

'Don't panic. Don't panic,' I told myself. 'You can get past this. Slow your breathing down.'

"Hey. Hey, are you ok?" I heard footsteps approaching while I coughed and wheezed and realised that I was about to faint.

Why now? Why here?

"Asthma attack. She's having an asthma attack. I can recognise it. My sister gets like this sometimes. Quick. Call the ambulance."

"Hey, is the girl you wanted me to stop wearing jeans and a pink t-shirt that says 'Paint me pink' on it? Yeah. We've got her, but we're calling an ambulance. It might have been the cigarette smoke when she was passing by us. She's having an asthma attack."

"Hey, we've got a spare reliever puffer in the first aid kit in the sick bay. Use that before the ambulance gets here."

"Oh. Then I'll carry her in. You go get the puffer since you know where it is."

I felt someone pick me up and carry me as if I was nothing.

"Miss, why are you so light?" the man carrying me exclaimed in surprise. He turned to his friend. "She weighs as much as my eleven year old son."

I was carried into a room and sat down on something soft. Somebody sat next to me to help prop me up, pinching me to make sure I stayed awake, putting a puffer in my hand.

"Here. There's a puffer here. Quick."

Automatically, I shook the puffer. I blinked back awake when somebody pinched me again, helping me to guide the puffer to my mouth. I heard the puffing spray and smelled the familiar scent of the puffer propellant being released with the medication into my mouth. The spray didn't go down far, but it did loosen some of my airways a little bit. After a moment, someone helped me press the puffer button again and the medication opened my lungs up further.

It was like a miracle, feeling the tight bands around my chest suddenly loosen.

Although the wheezing and tightness wasn't completely gone, I at least could breathe a little better.

I closed my eyes to focus on slowing my breathing down. I didn't hear or notice anything else that was happening around me. The world I was in only contained me and my lungs, breathing.

Paramedics soon arrived and asked me a bunch of questions. I could only give them one word answers, being too short of breath to do much more than that. The shortness of breath was nothing. The main thing was that I was still breathing. Voices spoke but I just focussed on moving air in and out of my lungs. Someone put a mask on my face that sprayed cool, dry air, while something squishy was put on one of my fingers.

After some time, the mask was removed and I was instructed to take another two puffs from the puffer. Once I had used the puffer, the mask was pressed to my face again.

My heart beat unnaturally fast, making my chest feel uncomfortable. It was one of the familiar side effects of taking the reliever puffer. I felt my body begin to tremble and shake as one of the side effects as well.

People were talking to me again and I managed to squeeze out two or three words at a time, but didn't pay much attention to what was being said. All my concentration was on not dying right here and now.

It was embarrassing. I had just declared that I didn't want to die and run out. Then I had nearly died. Did the world have it in for me or something?

"The blood oxygen levels have come back up a little but they're still on the low side. We'd best take her to the hospital to get a nebuliser. I can still hear her wheezing and her lips are still blue."

"Yina, can you get up? The ambulance is just outside. Do you think you can walk?"

I was helped up onto my feet, but I caught a whiff of cigarette smoke again. My lungs immediately staged a protest. They shut down altogether and my throat swelled shut. This time, I couldn't stop myself. My legs buckled beneath me and I spun into dark, midnight blue.

"Way to go, Yina," said Siming's voice by my head. "You run away and get saved just when you happen to run into trouble passing by a police station. I have yet to meet someone as lucky as you. You really take the cake."

"Shut up, Siming," I croaked, taking deep breaths of the nebulised medication billowing into my face from a face mask and opening my eyes. What a blessing it is to be able to breathe freely.

"Guess what, girl?" Siming grinned at me.

"What?" I asked grumpily, not in the mood for games.

"Guess."

"No. Can't be bothered," I turned my head to the other side of the bed to see a worried Sihao coming over to take my hand. "Just tell me."

"We caught you," Siming crowed.

"What?" I frowned for a moment feeling confused and then remembered my bold words to 'catch me if you can'. "Oh. Shut up. This was a fluke. A freakish mistake."

"You didn't even make it out the city," Siming scoffed at me. "Were you planning to run the whole way? We tracked you on surveillance cameras, you know. It was so cool. There are such things as taxis, busses and cars, you know. Trains? Aeroplanes?"

"I wasn't thinking and I just needed to get out of there," I snapped. "Shut up and go away, idiota. Let me wallow in my misery a little longer, ok? Let me have my quiet pity party for another few minutes."

Three minutes later, Siming poked me.

"It's been three minutes. Had enough wallowing and pity partying?"

"Brother Sihao, can you do something about your little brother?" I complained.

"Since she's awake and lively again, we'll get going," said a bunch of people at the door. Some were in police uniforms, some not. Some were Sihao's friends from the party.

"Thanks for the save," I waved at the door with a smile. "Sorry for the trouble."

"No sweat, li'l sis-in-law," they said. "Glad you're ok. Take care of yourself."

"You guys take more care of yourself," I croaked through my face mask. "Your job is the one that's dangerous. Thank you for your hard work. Appreciate it."

"Sihao, we'll call you out to play another day," Sihao's other friends said. "Bring your brother and little wife along. They're cute."

"Cute? Cute my ass," Siming snorted and turned his back on them.

"You do have a cute ass," I rubbed my chin in contemplation and was smacked in the shoulder by Sihao.

"Stop that," he told me with dark eyes. "No thinking about other men anymore. You're mine. I'm the one who gets to say you have a cute ass."

"Yeah. You really do," Siming nodded and Sihao threw my pillow at him.

"Oi. That's my wife. Your sister-in-law."

"Aw, bro. You guys aren't even legally married yet. Can't we share? You said it was ok last time," Siming whined and I lost my other pillow when Sihao threw it at him.

"We didn't have a choice then," Sihao growled at him. "He's gone now and can't control us anymore. Besides, she's already said. She'll only be loyal to me. I'm her dream man."

"The best in the world," I sighed, staring at the ceiling forlornly.

"See?" Sihao pointed his thumb at me.

"Until you threw all my pillows away," I glared at him.

"Ugh. Bro, give Yina her pillows back," Sihao said.

"No," Siming pouted

"Come on, Bro," Sihao coaxed.

"Yes. Give my pillows back, my best bro, best man, my favourite buddy, ol' pal. Do your sis a favour. I can't breathe so well with my head down," I said through the vapour of the nebulizer.

The pillows magically appeared beneath my head and I coughed.

"Thanks, man," I said to Siming.