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He thinks I’m lying? About this? “You were hardly ever there. You spent all your time with Audrey.”
Suddenly, he plows into me, shoving me backward. Caught by surprise, I stumble and crash into the desk.
“You,” he snarls in my face. “You don’t get to say one fucking word about Audrey.”
My brain’s obviously too slow today. “I only said you were always at her place back then—”
With a crack, Ash’s mean right hook connects with my jaw. My head snaps to the side. The pain hits a second later, burning like fire, stealing away what little air I had left. I lean back against the desk.
Fuck. My vision blurs. “Feels good, hitting me?” I give him the finger as I try to catch my breath. “Have at it, Ash.”
“Fuck you,” he snarls and throws another right hook at me, which I manage to avoid—then an upper cut crashes again into my jaw and sends me down. I fall to the floor, my head throbbing.
“She’s been here for me, as has Zane and Rafe, and you haven’t,” Ash is saying. “So keep the fuck away from me.”
The sweet taste of blood fills my mouth, and then the worst thing happens: a weight settles on my legs, pinning me down, throwing me back into the past.
“No,” I hiss.
“Dad tried to carve you open, huh? I don’t believe you. Show me.” It’s Ash, sitting on my legs.
I twist and buck, trying to throw the weight off as the memory closes around me, putting me back into that fucking basement. “Get off me.” I struggle to sit up, my breath so short I’m starting to panic. “Get the fuck off me.”
“Ash, back off,” Rafe mutters from somewhere to my right. “Come on, man.”
“Ash!” Audrey cries out, but nothing happens.
No escape.
Christ. This can’t be happening. I’m not there. I left. It’s over.
Ash pushes my shirt up. “Show me, if you’re telling the truth.”
“Screw you!” I struggle to throw him off me, but he’s not budging and my lungs are working overtime. “Dammit, get off.”
The room is darkening, the walls warping. I swear I can smell blood and piss, and the knife is lifting over me, flashing. The letters carved in my chest burn. Dad’s pinning me down, muttering, his breath stinking of alcohol. My back arches off the floor as I try to move. Searing pain pierces my chest.
“Ty? What the hell, man?”
I can’t breathe. There’s no air. There’s no fucking air. I clutch at my chest, my teeth grinding.
“Dammit, what’s this… Is he having a heart attack?”
The goddamn weight on my legs finally lifts, but it’s too late to stop this. As the memory takes over me, I thrash on the floor, trying to get free.
“I’m calling 9-1-1,” I hear Audrey’s voice close to my buzzing ears.
“Tyler!” Someone is trying to pull my hand away from my chest. “Can you hear me?”
I grasp blindly for something or someone to stop the slide into the dark. My fingers encounter a sleeve. I tug. “Don’t call,” I wheeze.
“Do you have asthma? What is it?” Rafe’s face comes into focus, leaning over me. He frowns, then draws back a ways. “Fuck. It’s a panic attack, isn’t it?”
“Panic attack?” I can hear Ash’s voice from my left.
“Man, do you have Xanax?” Rafe leans over me again, a dark shadow. “What medication do you take?”
“I don’t.” I gasp for breath. Black spots swim in my eyes. “Threw it away.”
