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“Are you okay?” the guy on the phone asks, probably noticing my breathing patterns have changed.
“Yeah, he isn’t in here or anything, I just… can’t breathe.”
I thought since I didn’t have a panic attack last night, I might be okay now, but my heart is racing, and I feel the familiar crushing weight of fear in my chest. My breath hitches, and I feel like I might pass out, but I can’t. If I do and he is on the other side of that door, he could come in and do anything to me.
My cruel imagination conjures the image. I shove it away, but not before it’s burned into my brain.
It doesn’t make me breathe any easier, but I put Toast down on the bed and grab panties to put on. I need to get dressed. Being naked doesn’t help.
There’s a buzzing in my brain and everything feels foggy. I watch my hand as I reach into the dresser drawer, and it’s like it belongs to someone else. I cock my head curiously, turning my hand over to watch the movement, but I don’t feel connected to it. I remain detached as I watch myself step into the panties and pull them up, but with the detachment comes calm.
The buzzing won’t stop, but it’s like I’m watching a movie now where the audio has gone out.
I don’t want to be here.
So I’m not.
I back up against the wall, but I don’t feel the cheaply painted drywall dragging against my bare back as I slide to the floor. I pull my knees close and wrap my arms around them. Dimly, I realize I put the phone down on the bed when I was still on the call, but I don’t care.
The doorknob jiggles again. Distantly, I hear someone call, “Brynn, open up. He’s not out here.”
But I’m too far away from the door. It’s like I’m looking at it from the end of a long hall. There’s no way I can reach, and I’m not getting up and going back to open it. I’m staying right here.
“It’s Shane from last night,” he tries again. “I picked up you and Killian. This is the last warning you’re gonna get. If you’re able to, let me in.”
I don’t.
And he doesn’t wait much longer.
I hear something ram into it from the other side, then the door flies open with a loud crash, the handle slamming against the wall.
I hear heavy footsteps as he lets himself into my room and comes straight over to me. The scent of the cologne I smelled in the car last night wafts my way as he crouches down to check on me.
“Are you all right?”
His voice sounds faraway. I didn’t see his face last night, but I’m surprised by it today. He’s handsome in a rugged sort of way, with a grizzled jawline and full lips. He has big hands and muscular thighs. Big everything.
His mouth is set in a grim line as he looks me over. He looks haunted, almost like he’s watched this scene play out before.
And there’s a hardness in his eye like it pisses him off.
That doesn’t seem right, though.
He hardly knows me, and he was fine helping Killian last night when it was clear I didn’t want to be there.
Then again, I suppose whatever reluctance I had to go with Killian, it didn’t result in me dissociating on my bedroom floor, wearing nothing more than a pair of panties.
I look down and realize I dropped my towel somewhere, so nothing is covering me. Shane isn’t looking, but now aware that I’m topless, I start to feel again.
Embarrassment opens the floodgates.
Fear rushes in.
Not fear in this moment, but the fear I closed out before when I couldn’t handle it.
I should have known. Distancing myself only buys me time, it doesn’t solve the problem.
I draw in a hitching breath, and then another. Panic crashes back over me and escalates quickly because I can’t breathe.
