Jenna works nights at the Teen Crisis Line handling emergencies. She’s great at her job. And she’s great at keeping emotional connections to a minimum.
Until tonight.
Tonight Jenna faces a completely different emergency.
One that will test everything about her. Including her own will to live.
This heart-pounding short crime thriller won’t let you go till the final page.
“Facing Fears” is available for the month of September 2026 on this site. The ebook is also available on most major online retail stores. You can also read this story in the collection Baverstock’s Allsorts Volume 2.
Facing Fears
By Jessica Baverstock
KLINT’S KISS WAS as smooth and sweet as melted chocolate, so warm and gentle that Jenna could get lost in it for minutes at a time. She breathed in the masculine scent left from his aftershave as she reluctantly pulled away, sitting back behind the wheel of her Toyota Hilux with that silly grin she couldn’t help wearing after every kiss. Six months of marriage hadn’t yet worn off the novelty of romance and she hoped it never would.
“Bye, honey,” he said, winking at her as he tapped the end of her nose with his finger, his wedding ring glinting in the beam of the white and blue neon sign over the hospital entrance. The ring looked so brand new on his finger, like he’d only put it on yesterday.
Jenna wished she could lean forward and kiss him again, but she’d already done it twice and time was getting on. He’d be late at this rate. So would she. Instead she reached over with a petite hand and brushed an imaginary piece of fluff off his black leather jacket just as an excuse to delay him one second longer.
He picked up his black backpack and slung it over his shoulder as he got out, the cold winter wind slipping in in place of him. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, glancing back at her with that knowing look. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
She nodded, forcing the smile to stay on her face. She blew him a kiss as he closed the door and then watched him turn around and walk through the hospital entrance.
The euphoria of the moment before now suddenly gave way to panic. She’d been staving it off for the past six weeks, since the doctor had expressed concern about Klint’s declining energy levels and booked him in for some overnight tests. It was a routine thing. It would be fine, just as Klint had said, and if they did find anything it would surely be treatable.
But she’d not been near a hospital in fifteen years, since she’d broken her arm in Grade 7, and hadn’t expected to see one for many years to come, unless it was the Maternity Ward. The idea that someone as young as Klint could need testing for a medical condition was a foreign and deeply unsettling concept.
And as she watched him walking down the stark white corridor, seeming to get smaller with each step, she realised the terrible mistake she had made.
Until this moment she had been impervious to the world. Nothing could be taken away from her that would cause lasting damage. She was estranged from her parents, and emotionally fine with that. She had friends of a sort, though some would call them mere acquaintances. She could glide in and out of their lives as she pleased. Work colleagues asked after her and invited her to drinks after hours, though she never went. She even had an older sister whom she called from time to time, but by no stretch of the imagination could they be called close. Their phone calls were more a matter of rote than anything else.
She had kept her emotional connections to a minimum throughout her twenty-seven years so nothing and no one could harm her.
Even when she’d started going out with Klint, the idea of a relationship was so new she had believed that if it all fell apart she would still simply be able to pick herself up and carry on. When he’d proposed, she’d said yes easily, quickly, swept along in the momentum of it all and entranced by his winning smile.
And now, suddenly, here, as she watched him walk away from her, she realised the enormity of what she had so innocently done.
“Don’t die,” she said under her breath, her voice shaking now that her fear had formed into words.
It was silly really. This was just a medical test. He was young and fit and even if the doctors did find something, modern medicine regularly worked miracles.
But as she heard the words, her words, drift from her lips she knew she wasn’t talking about this moment. She was talking about forever. She was talking about the rest of her life.
“Don’t die,” she said again, as if somehow the second time would ensure his safety.
She wasn’t sure why the emotional distance in her life had mattered so much to her, the imperviousness she had so carefully cultivated throughout her teenage years and into adulthood. Her family were all well and healthy people. She hadn’t lost a parent at a pivotal age or been responsible for the death of a sibling. There seemed to be nothing about her life that would explain it.
But the fear of the vulnerability she had willingly inflicted on herself by letting another human into her life, and her heart, now hit her with a cold nausea.
She forced her attention back to the present, put the Hilux into gear and drove off, leaving the hospital and Klint behind her and focusing on the night ahead.
The short drive to the crisis call centre along the night-time streets of Adelaide was easy, with so little traffic that she was in danger of her thoughts wandering back to Klint. She flicked the radio on, picking up a call-in channel discussing the many and varied uses of fresh lemons. It was the season for winter citrus, not that anyone who had seen snow in their life would ever recognise an Adelaide July as winter. Jenna’s neighbour’s lemon tree overhung the dividing fence, regularly dropping lemons onto her dead grass and so she understood the topic’s appeal.
She tried to pay attention—put half a lemon through the wash for stain-free clothes, stuff a lemon into the middle of your whole chicken before roasting, use half a lemon to clean your nails—but disquiet still tugged at her.
She tried distracting her mind with work, thinking of the marketing proposal she needed to have on her boss’s desk by Friday, but even that couldn’t cloud the fear that was hollowing out a place inside her and setting up camp.
She was relieved when she finally pulled into the small paved car park of the Teen Crisis Line centre and could turn her thoughts to much more important matters.
The building was a single storey, with a corrugated iron roof and smooth concrete walls, graffitied over so many times it was hard to tell what the original colour had been. There were no signs on the building to give away its purpose and it appeared innocuous enough, though the windows were covered with black metal bars and three small surveillance cameras watched the car park and surrounds.
Jenna volunteered here two nights a week, working on the new program that provided Internet chat and phone texting for teenagers in distress. It was a bit slow starting up but she had high hopes that it would provide a safer and more comfortable means for teenagers to contact the centre. She loved feeling a part of something that was making a difference, although she often finished her shift both physically and emotionally exhausted. Tonight wasn’t her usual night but she’d been called in to cover for Tasha who’d fallen ill halfway through her shift.
She opened the door of her Hilux and hopped out, straightening her white blouse beneath the knitted burgundy cardigan she was wearing and then brushed a few stray cat hairs from her black trousers. She liked to dress comfortably but not too casual when she came to the centre, even down to her black boots instead of sneakers, to keep her mind focused. If she came in T-shirt and jeans it was all too easy for her to feel like she was just bludging at home in front of her laptop.
She grabbed her small, brown leather backpack and then locked the car. As she strode the short distance to the front door of the centre, she glanced up at the cloudless night sky. Without the blanket of clouds, it would be cold tonight and even colder around midnight when she would head home.
On reaching the door she grabbed the card that had been hanging from the lanyard clipped to the waistband of her trousers and swiped it down the edge of the keypad by the door, then she keyed in her six-digit code. The door lock clicked and she grabbed the handle to let herself in.
Beyond the door was a small office space like any other: off-white walls plastered with posters about health, safety, and community events, a dark grey carpet spattered with strange stains, bits of carpet threads unravelling at the joins. The main area of the room was divided into ten little beige cubicles set up in the middle of the floor, each containing a desk, chair, phone, and computer.
Jenna closed the door behind her and then meandered her way to the second cubical along, glancing up at the three large TV screens that were high up on one of the walls. Two screens showed black and white images from the surveillance cameras, cycling through the different points of view, while the third screen showed how many calls were waiting and how long they’d been waiting for. It currently showed all calls were being cared for, a slow evening so far.
The room seemed to be colder than outside, although a warming smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted from the small kitchenette that could be seen through the glass wall on the other side of the room. A gentle, soothing hum of female voices came from three of the cubicles where the women were handling their calls, while a keyboard in another cubical tapped away.
The keyboard tapping stopped and Bindi stood up from her cubical, her aboriginal features relaxing in relief at the sight of Jenna. “I’d given up on you,” she said quietly enough so as not to interrupt the phone conversations that were taking place.
Jenna walked over to Bindi’s cubical. “I had to drop Klint off at the hospital before I came.”
Bindi’s eyes grew wide. “Oh no. What happened?”
“You’re not in the middle of a conversation with someone?” said Jenna, pointing to the computer.
“No,” laughed Bindi. “Was just checking the tennis scores.”
“Wimbledon?”
“Yup,” said Bindi. “But you were telling me what Klint’s doing in hospital.” She fixed Jenna firmly in the gaze of her brown eyes.
Jenna shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just some tests they’re doing overnight. It’s nothing.”
Bindi reached out a hand and stroked Jenna’s arm. “Are you coping okay with it?” she said in her soothing telephone voice.
Jenna shrugged her off with a laugh. “Yeah. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Bindi frowned. “You know you’ve said ‘nothing’ three times now?”
“What happened to Tasha?” said Jenna, wandering back to her cubical.
Bindi followed with a knowing look. It would be impossible to fool her with a simple deflection, but at least Jenna had control of the conversation again.
“Stomach pains,” Bindi said. “Thinks she might have eaten something off or perhaps it’s a bug.”
Jenna wrinkled her nose at the thought. “Poor thing.”
“So you’re shift supervisor.” Bindi grinned at her mischievously.
Jenna was definitely not the senior person in the room, although she was two years older than Bindi. Over the top of the cubical divider she could see Helen’s brunette curls in one cubical and Sharleen’s latest blond updo in the other, both of them were in their forties. She couldn’t see into the third cubical, but the lilt of the muffled words coming from there told her it was probably Hong, who was Taiwanese and in her late fifties.
Any one of those three would have been a good choice for shift supervisor in Tasha’s absence, but the decision had probably been made between them while Jenna was in transit. It made sense, as all were by now well into the rhythm of their shift and in the middle of calls, therefore it was easier for Jenna to jump into the role of supervisor. None of them enjoyed the extra paperwork or the handover procedure at shift’s end, but supervising also meant monitoring rather than helping callers—and in the end taking the calls was what all of them preferred doing.
Jenna didn’t mind though. She liked the feeling of accomplishment that came from organising things and tying everything up in a metaphorical bow before she left. She’d been shift supervisor a couple of times in the previous three months and she was becoming more confident in the role, though she still felt inadequate at times because of her lack of experience.
“Hey,” said Bindi, looking over Jenna’s shoulder. “Did someone order a pizza?”
Jenna turned around to look at the surveillance images on the large TV screens on the wall behind her. An unfamiliar small Ford hatchback had pulled into the car park and a tall man was getting out of it, his face hidden under a Domino’s Pizza cap. He wore a casual black jacket which hung loosely open and he was carrying two large pizza boxes also emblazoned with the logo. As he came closer she saw the polo shirt beneath his jacket with the Domino’s logo on it.
Jenna cocked her head and watched the man as he walked towards the door with a confident swagger. It was unusual for anyone to approach the building and a breach of protocol to invite anyone into the building except for registered volunteers. But at this moment she was coming up blank for the proper procedure for delivery men.
The man reached the door and pressed the intercom buzzer, looking up directly into the security cam as he did so. He was white, in his mid-twenties, clean shaven with handsome enough features. He squinted at the camera and then waved, grinning.
“What’s procedure for pizza?” Bindi said, frowning at the screen. She’d never been shift supervisor so this whole situation was new to her too.
Jenna looked around at the other women who were busily talking to their respective callers. Helen and Sharleen didn’t look like they were expecting anyone to arrive.
The delivery man outside pushed the buzzer again. “Hello,” he called out. His tone was friendly, but still Jenna felt uncomfortable.
Jenna moved so she could see into Hong’s cubicle. She knew she couldn’t disturb any of the calls that were going on since it was imperative that the caller felt like they had the listener’s undivided attention, but she was hoping that one of the women would be able to give her some kind of guidance, since they were the ones who had lumped her with the role of supervisor in the first place.
Hong was deep in conversation but looked up at Jenna for a moment, her short black bob tucked behind the headset she was wearing. She smiled at Jenna and gave her a thumbs up.
Jenna smiled back, taking Hong’s gesture as confirmation that Hong was responsible for the pizza.
“Hong ordered the pizza,” Jenna said to Bindi softly and Bindi nodded as if this made perfect sense.
Keeping an eye on the screen, Jenna moved to the door and pressed the intercom button. “Who is it?”
“Pizza delivery,” the guy called out, holding the boxes up for the camera to see.
“Just leave them at the door,” she said.
He frowned. “Uh, I need payment for it. $11.95 actually. With discount, of course.”
The warm, mouth-watering smell of fresh pizza had found its way around the door and was now tempting her. She realised she hadn’t eaten before she’d left home, dinner forgotten in the rush after Tasha’s phone call, and pizza was very appealing. She smiled to herself. Hong probably knew she wouldn’t have eaten. She had a mother’s sense about these things and seemed to plan accordingly.
“What is this place?” said the guy, trying to peer into one of the windows.
Jenna’s mind snapped into gear. If she left it any longer his curiosity would only increase and the last thing she wanted to do was draw unnecessary attention to the centre.
“Hang on a sec,” she said before darting back to her cubical and diving into her backpack.
Bindi was back at her side now. “I can get the money off Hong if you like. She’s probably set it aside somewhere.”
Jenna shook her head. “No problem. I’ve got it.” She pulled a couple of notes out of her purse and strode back to the door.
She checked the screen again where the guy was waiting patiently, looking casually back over his shoulder across the car park to the quiet street beyond.
She pressed the intercom buzzer again and said, “I need you to step back from the door, okay?”
“Okay,” he said.
She glanced up to the screen to check that he was obeying her instructions. Bindi came up behind her to check also, perhaps drawn by the alluring smell of pizza.
When Jenna was sure he was far enough away from the door, she opened it wide enough for her to step out.
What happened next was a blur.
The man sprang forward, tossing the pizza boxes aside as he came.
He grabbed Jenna around the throat, spinning her around with his other hand so that she was tightly held against him with her back to him.
Bindi’s cry of surprise was cut short by the door flying open.
The door caught Bindi in the side of the head, knocking her backwards.
Jenna watched in horror as blood began running down Bindi’s face, flowing before she even hit the floor.
The man propelled Jenna inside and then shut the door behind him.
Jenna’s mind was racing.
What should she do?
What could she do?
Hong, Helen, and Sharleen were all standing up now, looking over the cubicles to see what the noise was.
Their pale, alarmed faces did nothing to quell the fear rising in Jenna’s throat.
She was sure there must be a procedure for this.
Somewhere.
She just had no idea what it was.
She hoped against hope that one of the other women did.
“Is there a security guard around?” growled the man, his voice sounding completely different now. Jenna wasn’t sure whether that was because his voice was no longer coming through the intercom, or whether it was because he no longer had to pretend.
The voice before had sounded innocent, curious.
Now it rasped with a crazed paranoia.
And that’s what scared Jenna the most.
He had fooled her completely. And she believed herself good at reading people.
She wished she could see his face, see what expression it now wore.
All she could do was guess.
And the worry that was on all the women’s faces in the room was enough of a mirror to make her understand the seriousness of the situation.
She found it difficult to breathe and she suddenly understood the tightness came, not from her own fear, which was palpable enough, but from the constriction of the man’s hand around her throat.
“You’re choking me,” she rasped.
The hand didn’t loosen.
“Who’s in charge here?” he snapped, moving from side to side as his gaze must have been taking in the whole room.
Helen stepped forward, bless her, with her hands open and stretched out at her sides so he could see she was no threat. “I am in charge here. And there is no guard.”
Jenna could have kissed her at that moment. She needed someone else to be in charge. There was no way she could manage this situation on her own.
She glanced out of the side of her eye to see how Bindi was going. She had her hand up against her forehead now, blood trickling between her fingers.
“My colleague needs medical attention,” Jenna said, her voice still forced. “Please.”
She hated herself as soon as the word was out of her mouth.
Please.
How could she have said it? How could she have been so stupid as to start this conversation off with a plea?
The sign of weakness would cost her, she had no doubt. And she couldn’t afford any losses in this conversation.
What was at stake was not just health and happiness. It was her life.
And suddenly everything had so much more meaning.
Less than an hour ago she had been watching her husband walk down a hospital corridor, worried that he would die.
Now here she was with her throat in the grip of a madman and no chance to say, “Goodbye, I love you.”
Nothing.
“What is it you want?” said Helen, taking another step forward.
The man’s hand constricted around Jenna’s neck and she couldn’t help coughing in protest.
“Okay,” said Helen, taking a step back. “Okay. I won’t come any closer, but you need to work with me here. You need to tell me why you’re here and what you want.”
The hand relaxed a little, just enough for her to breathe and the blood to rush back to her head.
“One of you people spoke to my girlfriend last night,” he said, spitting the words out at them.
“We speak to a lot of young women here.” Helen remained stationary as she said this.
Jenna scanned Hong and Sharleen, watching as Hong very gradually started sidling back into her chair.
The hand constricted again.
“You,” said the man, aiming his words at Hong. “Don’t you move or I’ll snap your friend’s neck here.”
Hong straightened at once.
Jenna watched, amazed. And for a moment she couldn’t work out what caused the amazement.
Hong should have sat down. She should have hit the panic buzzer.
Had anyone hit the buzzer? It had all happened so fast.
Jenna assumed that the three women had all stood up too quickly to realise the buzzer was needed, and if that was the case, no help was coming because no one knew help was needed.
And so Hong had to sit down, if only for her life and the life of the others who were not currently in the grips of this intruder. This potential murderer.
Hong cared about her. Jenna couldn’t believe it.
Amazement, yes, but also frustration.
Jenna’s life wasn’t worth it. Hong had to take action for the sake of the others.
And Jenna would have cried out and told her this if her throat wasn’t so bruised that she was no longer sure sound could come out.
“Okay,” said Helen. “Okay, we’re not moving. But we need to understand why you’re here.”
“I want to know who spoke to my girlfriend last night.” His heart was pounding so much Jenna thought it would come straight out of his chest.
“We don’t keep that kind of information on file,” said Helen. “All calls are anonymous and all files are confidential.”
“Well unconfidential them then,” he said, taking a step further into the room.
Jenna gave Hong a pleading look.
This was ridiculous. The man, or perhaps boy was a better term, didn’t have a gun. If he did he would have pulled it already.
He might not even have a knife, because surely he’d be brandishing that by now.
The only thing that was holding these four women hostage was the fact that a fifth women was in a supposed death grip.
Four in exchange for one.
It didn’t make any mathematical sense.
If Hong were to press the buzzer, then help would be on its way. Not soon enough to help Jenna, but then Jenna was expendable.
But perhaps soon enough to help the others.
And help soon enough for Bindi, who was still lying dazed on the floor, the blood now blackening on her fingers.
Soon enough for Bindi.
Three able women against one man.
They could rush him.
And yes, he could snap her neck, but only hers.
The other women could manage to save themselves.
“I can’t give you the information you need,” said Helen, speaking calmly.
How could she feel that calm? Why wasn’t she leaping into action?
“Well I’ll snap this one’s neck and then we’ll see what you can and can’t do.”
“Okay, okay,” said Helen. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Jenna tried to cry out in her frustration, but all that came out was a gurgle.
How stupid could Helen be?
Couldn’t she see how illogical the whole situation was?
If he snapped her neck, if that were indeed possible and not just something that seemed to happen on television shows, then he would have no hostage to negotiate with.
He would have to drop her and perhaps reach for Bindi, giving the other women enough time to hit the buzzer and possibly rush him.
What was the point of prolonging the inevitable? The longer they waited the worse off Bindi was.
“I might be able to do what you ask, but I will have to speak to my supervisor.”
Clever. Jenna saw now where Helen was going with this. She would have to pick up the phone, and that would give her opportunity to hit the buzzer.
The grip tightened again and Jenna gave an involuntary whimper.
“No, you don’t,” he said. “You don’t need no supervisor to give me what I need.”
“What is it you need?” said Helen.
He relaxed a little. “I need to know who it was who spoke to my girlfriend last night.”
“Why?” said Helen.
“What does it matter? You just get what I want.”
“It matters because I need to know what will happen to the information once I give it to you.”
“That’s none of your concern.”
Jenna’s head was beginning to throb. She couldn’t follow the conversation at all. The information he wanted didn’t exist. It couldn’t exist. The callers were anonymous and their information was a closely guarded secret. No records were kept of the phone calls, messages, or chat sessions. They were wiped after they happened. That was part of the respect of privacy that was so integral to the call centre.
“Suppose it was me,” she said. “Suppose it was me who spoke to your girlfriend.”
“Was it?” he said, shifting his weight as if to make a lunge for her.
“I don’t know yet. But suppose it was me. What would you do?”
He shifted back to his previous stance. “Find out first. Then I’ll tell you.”
Helen sighed.
Jenna couldn’t tell whether it was a genuine sigh of frustration or whether it was calculated somehow to manipulate the hostage taker.
“The calls are all done anonymously. We don’t keep much information on our systems.”
“I can tell you her phone number,” he said, sounding suddenly like a high school student speaking up to make a fool out of a teacher.
“That might help,” said Helen. “I would need to write it down and then check the computer.”
“No,” he said. “Don’t touch anything.”
Helen pursed her lips. “Well how am I supposed to give you what you need if you don’t let me use my computer?”
“I don’t want you calling anyone.”
“Who do you think I will call?” Helen said. Her hands had been gradually dropping to her sides and now one hand moved to her hip as if she were indeed a school teacher showing frustration at a student.
“The police. Or whatever security company is supposed to come to your aid.”
Helen shook her head. “Do you really think we don’t have procedures for this kind of thing? The second you came through that door we hit our buzzers. The police are already outside.”
She pointed to the large television screen on the wall which was cycling security footage from the three cameras outside.
The man moved himself and Jenna a little further into the room to see the screen.
Sure enough, there were police outside, their cars parked in such a way as to make a protective barricade for them to lean against.
There had been no sirens, no loud speaker, just their silent presence for Helen to use when the time was right. They were no doubt tied into an audio feed of what was going on in the room, perhaps even receiving the video feed from the cameras within the room.
Jenna felt a little safer at this. But she glanced down at Bindi, who had somehow managed to shuffle herself away from the door and was now propped up against the wall a little way away. Her head must be throbbing more than Jenna’s and she needed immediate medical attention.
Jenna glanced up at the screen and noted an ambulance parked a little way away. The paramedics were here. They could help Bindi.
The only thing that was holding them up, holding everyone up, was Jenna’s life.
Was it really worth that much?
“Look,” rasped Jenna. “You’re not going to get what you came here for.”
His hand tightened and Jenna felt a strange thrill that he was finally going to do it. To do what he had been threatening to do all this time.
Do it and then life could continue for everyone else.
Because the second he did that, he would be helpless, defenceless.
The police would be in here like a shot.
And everyone else would then get out safe.
But what about Klint?
The thought shot through her like a hit of adrenaline.
What would become of Klint if she were to die right here?
Would he be devastated?
Would he cry?
These were questions she had never thought to ask.
She had always gone through in her mind what would happen if she were to lose him. She had set up procedures in case it happened. She knew all his passwords and even had a separate bank account in just her own name in case there was a problem with the joint accounts.
She had planned for that eventuality as soon as their relationship became serious.
But had he planned for it?
Did he know her passwords? Did he know what to tell her family and what not to tell them? Did he know how to get into her personal bank account to retrieve the money she’d been stashing away there?
“Tell me about your girlfriend,” said Helen, her hands once again at her sides. “Tell me what brought you to the point where you came in here wanting to know who spoke to her.”
“Don’t you make this about me,” said the man. The faceless man behind her who could take her life in a heartbeat. “This has nothing to do with me. It’s about who of you spoke to her.”
“But it has everything to do with you,” said Helen. “You’re the one standing in here wanting the information. I’m just trying to understand why you’re here.”
Who would look after her cat?
Jenna suddenly realised Klint probably wouldn’t know where the cat food was. Would he know when to change the kitty litter? Would he know that Sparkles liked to go outside at midnight and return at one in the morning and so the flywire door needed to be left open a little so that the cat flap worked?
There were so many things she hadn’t told Klint. She hadn’t prepared him for this.
He wasn’t ready to lose her.
She couldn’t just throw her life away.
She needed to stick around, if just for him.
He wasn’t ready for this.
“Someone from your call centre encouraged my girlfriend to leave me last night. She disappeared. Went to some halfway house or something. I want to talk to the person who arranged it. You can’t just take people’s girlfriends away from them, you know?”
“And yet,” said Helen, “that’s exactly what you’re threatening to do.”
“No, I’m not,” he said.
“Yes, you are.” Helen even took a step forward as she said this. “The woman you’re holding, her name is Jenna. She has a husband. You’re threatening to take away his wife simply because you’ve lost your girlfriend. Now we can help you. That’s what we’re here for, to help people who are in distress and who need people to talk to, but I can’t help you while you’re threatening to hurt my friend. Do you understand?”
There was silence for a moment.
And then the man spoke, but now in a softer, almost childish voice. “You’ll help me find her?”
“I’ll help you through whatever rough patch you’re going through, but you need to release my friend first.”
Friend. The word gave Jenna goose pimples.
She had thought of these women as colleagues. As workmates.
But friends?
And yet, she cared deeply about each one of them, an emotion she hadn’t even realised she’d felt.
Just seeing Bindi bleeding was enough for Jenna to wish to lay down her life for her and the other three women.
How funny that Jenna had prided herself on not feeling attachment to anyone, and yet, in this crisis, she realised the only person she felt no attachment to was herself.
The grip around her throat loosened, but the arm that held her to him remained firm.
“What about the police?” he said.
“Well, we’ll have to let them in. They’re going to want to speak to you, because what you’ve done is pretty serious. But they’re here to help you too. We’re all going to work together to get you the help you need.”
“What about my girlfriend? I just want my girlfriend.”
“We’ll work that out too. We just want what’s best for the both of you.”
The arm finally gave way and Jenna fell to the floor in relief.
The door behind her was flung open at that moment and several police came barging through, grabbing the man and taking him outside.
Paramedics raced in to take care of Bindi.
And behind them came Klint.
He ran into the room and dropped to his knees beside her, wrapping her up in his arms.
“How did you get here?” Jenna said, grateful for the stability and warmth he provided, as she found she was now shivering uncontrollably.
“They called me and told me what was happening. Are you okay?”
“Who called you?” she said. Her mind was trying to make sense of everything even as her body was letting out all the pent out anxiety.
“Never mind. We’ll get that all sorted out later. Right now we need to get you some medical attention.”
“Medical attention?” she said, still confused. “I’m okay.”
A paramedic knelt down beside her and started asking her questions while wrapping a blanket around her.
But she wasn’t paying attention.
She watched Bindi get up and walk out, assisted by the paramedics. And then as Helen and the other two women walked past, each gave her a smile.
Helen squatted down beside her for a moment and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You did wonderfully, my dear.”
And then the tears started.
Jenna couldn’t work out why they were there, but they came out as deep, throbbing sobs that wracked her body.
“It’s okay,” said Klint, wrapping her up in his arms.
She lay her head on his chest and let all the fears and worries and shocks of the day pour out in the tears.
“Facing Fears” is available for the month of September 2026 on this site. The ebook is also available on most major online retail stores. You can also read this story in the collection Baverstock’s Allsorts Volume 2.
“Facing Fears”
Copyright © Jessica Baverstock
Cover and Layout copyright © Jessica Baverstock
Cover design by Jessica Baverstock
Cover art © mtphoto19/depositphoto.com
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
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