I can’t…
I can’t…
The words repeat in my head.
“Amy?”Matthew’s voice, sharp with alarm, seems to come from a great distance.
I can’t see him clearly.Can’t focus.
The edges of my vision turn dark.
I gasp, a desperate, choking sound, but no air reaches my lungs.
“Do you feel sick?”
I shake my head slightly, unable to do anything but claw for air that won’t come.
Without another word, Matthew effortlessly scoops me up in his arms.The movement is jarring, but his hold is secure.I focus on the strength in his arms.The solid warmth of his body.I wrap my arms around his neck, fingers burying themselves in his short hair.My cheek presses against his chest.I feel the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath my ear.A grounding rhythm in the swirling chaos.
He moves through the crowd, steps determined.
“Grab some water and follow me to the parking lot,” he calls to someone.
The blast of fresh air is a lifeline.A first true breath filling my suffocating lungs.
Matthew’s pace is brisk but steady.His shoes strike the pavement as the club’s throb fades.I cling to him, face still pressed to his chest, inhaling his scent.
Clean.
Masculine.
Comforting.
He stops, breath warm against my cheek.“I got you,” he whispers.“But I have to put you down.”
He waits for my nod before lowering me.He supports my weight with one arm, opening the passenger door with his other hand.“Easy, love,” he murmurs, guiding me onto the seat.
I sit sideways, feet planted on the asphalt.The sudden quiet is disorienting after the sensory overload.I hunch over, burying my head in my hands to block out the chaotic pounding inside.
Footsteps approach.“Here’s your water,” a gruff voice says.
“Thanks,” Matthew replies, the words clipped and brief.
I feel him crouch down in front of me, the shift in his weight, the slight rush of air.“Amy, I need to see your eyes.”His voice is a quiet, insistent plea.
When I don’t respond, his hand gently smooths my hair back, fingers lingering against my temple.
“Want me to call an ambulance?”
“No, thanks.I got this,” Matthew replies, firm.
There’s a pause and then the sound of retreating footsteps.
Matthew rests his forearms on either side of my thighs on the car seat.His body is a silent barricade between me and the world.
Silence descends again.But it’s different now.It’s not empty.It’s not suffocating.It’s…
Loaded.
