But I don’t think I’m actually going to vomit.
It’s just the fear riding through me like an electric current with nowhere to escape.I’m burning inside, and not in the fun, tingly, I’m aroused type of sensation.This one pricks at my skin, my muscles, firing pain signals all the way from my brain to my toes.
Everything hurts.
It’s bloody agony, and they haven’t done anything to me.
The mafia hasn’t touched me physically.Sure, they restrained me last night, threatened to kill me, but I’m without actual scars.
Emotionally, however, I’m a disaster.
How am I going to explain this to my parents?They’re never going to accept Luca, certainly not after knowing him for a semester.
And his parents?I’m afraid to introduce my family to them.What if they see through the horror and realize the monsters that lurk in the shadows will become my family?
They’re not going to accept Luca if they have any inkling of what’s going on.
And even if they don’t and all goes smoothly, there’s little chance they’ll be happy with the news of our engagement.
I can fake a lot of things, but pretending to be excited for a wedding neither of us wants, they’ll see through it.
There’s a soft knock at the bathroom door.
“Someone’s in here!”I shout.
“Are you okay in there?”Nikki asks through the door.
No, I’m not the least bit okay.But I can’t tell her that, not with Moreno staring me down at the restaurant table.I consider my options; none of them are ideal, and finally, I open the bathroom door, letting her inside with me.
“I’m having a panic attack,” I confess, staring up at her, praying she won’t push and ask me why.
She reaches for my hands, bringing them to her own.“Why are you panicking?”she asks, her voice calm, steady, her focus entirely on me.
It’s only the two of us.I could tell her everything—about the boy in the basement, the forced marriage, her husband is mafia—but instead, I shake my head, trembling.
“I’m overwhelmed,” I say.
It’s the truth, but it’s more of a quiet truth, compared to the real reasons I’m feeling this way.
“Because of the wedding?”she asks.
“My parents are going to freak out when I tell them.You have no idea how supportive they are, but this—it’s going to break them.”
Nikki nods slowly, and her breathing is soft and calm.“Breathe with me,” she says, telling me when to breathe in, hold it, and exhale.
I’m struggling to breathe, my heart racing, gasping for breath.
Her hands wrap around my hips to steady me.“Let’s try something else.Grounding,” she says.
I nod and tremble, my insides beginning to feel like jelly.
“Name three colors that you see.”
“Beige,” I whisper, staring at the bathroom tile of the walls.
She nods in agreement.“What else?”
“Gray and white,” I say, studying the marbling color and swirl pattern of the porcelain sink.My breathing is becoming less erratic.
