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how old I got, or how many self love books I read, or how in love I was, or how special my husband made me feel, there were some wounds that never fully healed and it didn't take very much to rip off the scab and send me back to that painful time.
    I eked out a smile. Fake it til you make it! "Thanks."
    Megan flashed one of her own. "Anytime. And I'm sorry too. It was a stupid question and it probably just made you relive the awfulness." She shuddered, slowly pumping her arms. "You know that woman is awful, right? And it has nothing to do with you?"
    I nodded, tugging at the back of my shirt. Rachel Laraby had something broken in her too, something that made her rationalize the way she treated people. I used to think she was just straight up cruel, and that could still be true, but I remembered the flash of something else. You don't know what I’ve been through. Not even close. And I didn't. And I probably never would. But she had the reins on my story, and that was more than I could stand.
    I shut off my machine as another wave of nausea hit me, this time a slash of dizziness following, making me reach for the handlebar.
    My fingers didn't work.
    Before it could register that something was very off, another wave of dizziness hit me and darkness swallowed me up.
    ***
    T he brightness made me groan and I tried to lift my arm to shield my eyes from the light, but my body felt heavy. Too heavy. Fear choked me. Was I back in Rachel's apartment? Had I died and gone to hell?
    The light dissipated and fuzzy images swam into view, sharpening as I blinked. Megan was over me, her eyes wide and horrified. A gym staff member was on my other side, looking just as spooked. I'm sure the poor guy was thinking whatever this is, it was so not in his job description.
    I squeezed my eyes shut, my face scrunching in confusion. "What-where-"
    "Don't move, Leila!"
    Megan's voice sounded muffled, like she was trying to talk to me underwater. Her face looked so worried. Why was she so worried?
    She tossed a look at the blustering staff member. I squinted and read his name tag. 'Steve'. With his blonde hair and blue green eyes, he didn't really look like a Steve. Maybe a Josh.
    "We shouldn't move her, right?" Megan looked to her left and right, like she was trying to locate something. "I need a phone. We have to call 911!"
    Josh (or was it Steve?) was up, answering the call of duty, running off to find a phone so Megan could call- "911?" I said groggily, the world spinning back into motion. I tried to sit up. Sit up? Why was I on the floor? "I was on the treadmill. What happened?"
    Megan looked seconds away from having a full-on meltdown. "Leila, I don't think you should move!" Her voice was more authoritative than I'd ever heard it. It didn't remind me of a teacher scolding her students. It reminded me of Jacob. "Jacob..."
    Steve was back, holding a phone to his ear. "Ye-Yes, she's awake." He nodded his head like one of those dashboard things. "O-okay. We're on the second level." He almost dropped the phone, playing a one man game of hot potato. "The ambulance, uh, is, er, on the way."
    "Can I use that phone?" Megan asked quickly. "I need to call her husband."
    Steve practically tossed it at her.
    Megan looked down at me. Down because I was still laying on the floor, trying to figure out what happened.
    "What's his number, Leila?"
    I started laughing. No one knew phone numbers by heart anymore. You just tapped on your phonebook, and voila! I barely got two guffaws out before I was clutching my head. Something was throbbing. I brought my hand to the back of my head and when I pulled it away, I saw blood.
    Megan saw it too. I knew she had a thing about blood, but she shook her head wildly like she was warding off the urge to throw up. I tried to lift myself up so I could show her I was okay, but the room went hazy again.
    "Leila, you may have a concussion, I don't think you're supposed to move," she pleaded.
    I slumped back down. I didn't move, but my