Everything grinds to a halt.
The sound of her sharp inhale slices through me like a blade. It's faint, barely audible, but to me it's deafening. A sound I've heard a thousand times before. The involuntary intake of breath when someone sees what's beneath my mask.
The prelude to screaming.
The instinctive fear response that sayswrong, wrong, wrong.
She sits up, weight moving off my trapped arm. The second it's free, I jerk my hand up to my face, yanking the mask back into place with such force I hear a seam rip.
Too late.
She knows.
My hands fly between us, signing rapidly, desperately.
S-O-R-R-Y.
S-O-R-R-Y.
S-O-R-R-Y.
The same word over and over, my fingers shaking so badly I can barely form the letters. She sits up straighter, moving toward my knees. Creating distance between herself and the monster.
My signs grow more forceful, more jagged. Don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Can't keep my hands steady. Can't slow down enough to make sure she understands. Panic builds like a towering wave, threatening to crush and drown me. My chest heaves with labored breaths that burn my damaged throat.
She's seen?—
"Are you okay?" she asks. Her voice is soft. Doesn't sound terrified or repulsed. Sounds worried, if anything.
Why the fuck is she worried aboutme?
Why doesn’t she hate me?
I am a living fucking nightmare.
I shake my head hard, the motion making the torn mask shift again. I grab it with both hands now, pressing it harder against my ravaged skin.
Making sure there are no gaps.
No chance of her seeing more.
My breathing comes in short, harsh bursts, not enough oxygen reaching my lungs. The panic builds higher, faster. Crushing my chest. Squeezing my throat.
I need to move.
Need to get away before she sees more.
The mask is fucking ripped.
Yanked it back on too fast.
But my body won't cooperate. I'm still frozen, trapped in a spiral of panic that constricts like an iron maiden around my entire fucking torso with each passing second. Nails driving into me?—
She plants her hands on my chest. Then up to my shoulders, squeezing, saying something I can't hear over the ringing in my ears.
But it all comes to a screeching halt.
The nails stop.
