The fire in the hearth flares wildly, the flames dancing and twisting as the wind finds its way down the chimney. And suddenly, I'm twelve years old again. Alone, with the darkness closing in.
My breath comes faster, and my chest feels tight, like someone's wrapped bands around my ribs and keeps pulling them tighter with each gust of wind.
You're fine. You're safe. This isn't the same.
But the rational part of my brain is losing ground to the panic clawing its way up my throat.
The lights flicker again, and this time they go out completely.
The darkness lasts only a heartbeat before the generator kicks in and the lights come back on, but that heartbeat is enough. That single moment of black sends me spiraling.
I can't breathe.
The room spins. My vision tunnels. The howling wind becomes the sound of metal crunching, glass shattering, my mother's scream cut short as we plunge over an embankment on the side of the road, plummeting into the darkness below.
"Holly."
Nikolai's voice cuts through the chaos in my head, but it sounds distant.
"Holly, look at me."
I can't. I'm frozen in place, my hands shaking so badly I have to press them against my thighs to try to still them. My chest heaves as I try to pull in air that won't come.
Then his hands are on my shoulders, warm and solid and real.
"Look at me,malyshka."
I force my eyes up and find his face inches from mine, those bright blue eyes locked onto me with an intensity that cuts through the panic.
"Breathe," he says, his voice low and comforting. "In through your nose. Out through your mouth. With me. Now."
He breathes in slowly, controlled, and I try to follow. Try to match the steady rhythm he's setting.
In. Out. In. Out.
"Good," he murmurs. "Again. Stay with me."
His hands slide from my shoulders to cup my face, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. The touch grounds me and pulls me back from the edge I was teetering on.
"You're safe," he says firmly. "You're here with me. The lodge is solid. The storm can't hurt you."
I nod, but I’m still struggling to breathe properly. Nikolai moves one hand to the back of my neck, threading his fingers through my hair.
"I've got you," he says. "I won't let anything happen to you."
The wind slams against the lodge again, and I flinch, a whimper escaping before I can stop it.
"You’re okay." His forehead presses against mine, just like last night at the piano. "I'm right here. Focus on me. On my voice. On my hands. Nothing else matters right now."
His thumb traces small circles at the nape of my neck, and slowly the vice around my chest begins to ease.
"That's it," he says softly. "Just breathe,malyshka."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I don't… I can't…"
"Don't apologize." His hands tighten on me slightly, reassuring and calming. "Tell me what you need."
What I need is for the storm to stop. For the wind to quiet and the darkness to go away. For the memories to stop clawing their way to the surface.
