Desperate to ground myself, I hook onto the one thing that has always steadied me through the years.
My fingers tangle in her curls as I replay the beautiful sound of my bullet entering that fucker’s brain.
Digging through bone and tissue, the sharp tang of his piss filling the air.
The comfort of retribution. The sweet tranquility of death.
Cassandra
I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life.
Shit that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.
Yet, none of it equaled the wave of overwhelming panic I’m experiencing now.
My head lolls helplessly against a chest, my limbs dangling from my center like foreign objects strung to a stick. The dead weight of my own body pulls against me, like I’m sinking down, down, and I can’t ever pull myself out. The numbness blazes bright like a sick imitation of sleep paralysis, but my other senses are recording too vibrantly to be anything but real.
The only thing centering me is the bizarre familiarity of the arms that hold me. My nose flares as I suck in a deep breath of that deep, spicy scent that has surrounded me since I had first collapsed. Since everything had gone dark.
“Alright, we’re here.”
A face morphs into my line of sight. I gaze up at the man currently functioning as my car seat. It’s a rather nice face. His eyes look navy inthe low light, and they flicker with the same curious, deep meaning they did that one night, so many months back.
Just a few hours ago, I had been riddled with fear of running into him again, and yet here I am now, practically attached to his hip and hoping like hell he doesn’t leave me all alone.
Life is weird.
When it looks like he’s readying himself to move, my fear spikes, jaw clenching to say something. I try to grab onto his arm, to beg him to stay with me, but nothing happens. Not a single muscle obeys the plea. The utter failure fills me with dread.
The car appears to roll to a stop, though I can’t see up to the window to confirm. A loud click resounds from the front, the driver exiting the vehicle. My terror plateaus when Mikhail changes his grip on my back. Like he’ll open the door. Like he’ll toss me right out onto the street.
I throw my gaze up to his and blink twice. My final stand. I repeat the action. Again and again. Until there’s no break between one blink and the next, and my frustration drips down my cheeks in salty tracks.
No, no, no.
“Hey, whoa, what’s wrong? What happened?” His cool hands press to my temples. “You’re safe, I’ve got you, remember?”
Safe.The muddled word washes through my mind, but it can’t clean the lingering worry that he’ll leave me alone like this. Vulnerable. Broken.
A ridiculous whine somehow escapes my throat, the raspy, fractured sound stretching through the car like a mockery of a word.
Somehow, though, Mikhail’s eyes soften with something that looks like understanding.
He stops moving. His palms still press to my cheeks, and the grounding pressure prickles my skin.
“I’m not leaving you. We’ll go see the doctor together, and then I’ll find somewhere for you to rest.
A hand buries itself in my tangled hair, coaxing out a breath of hope. He saidwe. We are going to see the doctor.
“What do you think, Menace?”
The words are soft and inquisitive, and I press my lids closed before cracking them open once more. The action earns me a small smile, and relief courses through my veins.
I can’t recall muchfrom the trip upstairs, other than the soft purr of an elevator and a warped jumble of voices, but I could tell the second we breached the apartment threshold because I practically melted like a snowman in the blasting heat. Now, I lie bundled on a comfy couch in the softest blanket I’ve ever felt, absolutely engrossed in trying to move my stiff fingers. I’d sacrifice anything in my possession to be in control of my own limbs again.
My life goals have never been so narrowed.
True to his word, Mikhail hasn’t so much as left my side since the car. Even now, he’s stationed on the floor next to my legs, dark brows pinched in tense concentration. Though some part of me is a bit wary of his help tonight, I’m in no position to be anything but grateful until I can regain the ability to walk away if I want to. Another part of me is also painfully aware that I’d start bawling again if he left me for even five minutes, because I feel so damn useless in this state.
