"Let me go!"
"No."
"I'll scream."
"You're already screaming."
"I'll—I'll—" The threats tangled with sobs. "I'll disappear. Go so far inside you'll never find me again. Become nothing, nobody, just empty spaces where a person used to be."
"Try it." His voice was calm against my ear, arms restraining without hurting. "Go ahead. Disappear. I'll wait."
I went limp, hoping to catch him off guard, but he just adjusted his hold. Supporting now instead of restraining, though I was still trapped.
"I hate this," I whispered.
"Hate what?"
"Feeling. You made me feel everything and now I can't stop. Can't go back to numb. Can't find the quiet spaces between heartbeats where nothing hurt."
"Because those spaces were killing you."
"Maybe I wanted to die."
His arms tightened. "No. You wanted to live. Just didn't know how. Still don't, which is why you're destroying things instead of asking for help."
"I don't need help. I need—I need—"
"What do you need?"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
The admission broke something. I thrashed again, wild and desperate, but he held steady. An anchor in my storm, unmoved by the violence of my dissolution.
"I know what you need," he said when I finally stilled, exhausted. "But you're too deep in your spiral to hear it. So we're going to reset."
"Reset?"
Without warning, he lifted me, carrying my naked form toward his bathroom. I'd been in there once before, all black marble and luxury. But this time he headed straight for the shower, turning it on full blast.
Cold.
The water hit like ice needles, shocking a scream from my throat. I tried to escape but he held me under the spray, both of us getting soaked, his clothes plastering to his body while I shivered and cursed.
"Stop! It's freezing!"
"Good. Maybe it'll cool down that overheated brain." He adjusted his grip, making sure the water hit every inch of me. "Wash away whatever demon you're fighting."
"I'm fighting YOU!"
"No." He turned me to face him, water streaming between us. "You're fighting yourself. The part that wants to trust battling the part that thinks trust equals death. The soft parts declaring war on the sharp edges. I'm just standing here, getting wet."
"I hate you."
"You love me." Said with such certainty. "And that's what's really driving you crazy. That you love someone who sees every broken piece and doesn't look away."
"Shut up."
"You love me and you don't know what to do with it. Because love has always meant loss in your experience. Meant being left. Meant not being enough."
