“It’s locked,” I say calmly. “For your safety. You’re in shock, Haven. Your judgment is compromised.”
“My safety?” She makes a sound between a whimper and a laugh. “I’m not safe. I’m never safe. Never, never…”
She hugs her legs, voice muffled when she drops her head to her knees and starts rocking. That’s when the shivering begins, like she’s been too caught up to notice until now.
It’s a dangerous precipice she’s on. I need to bring her back before she lashes out like a frightened animal.
“Haven, tell me what you feel right now. Physically, not emotionally.”
She rolls her head against her knees like she’s saying ‘no’ but then rears up her neck, blinking hard.
Fighting the past like she’s no doubt done so many times before.
“Cold.” She’s shaking hard enough that I can hear her teeth chatter. “So fucking cold.”
“That’s expected. MDMA affects your body’s temperature regulation. Combined with the rain, you’re looking at potential hypothermia unless we can get you warmed up.” I struggle out of my tuxedo jacket and pass it over to her. “Here.”
She doesn’t move. Eyes unfocused, jaw slack.
Dissociating again.
I make the executive decision and pull over, throwing the car into park. She flinches when I lean across her, and I slow my movements, telegraphing each one.
“I’m going to tuck this around you,” I say slowly. “That’s all. Nothing else.”
Her eyes find mine in the darkness. Pupils still blown wide, but there’s a flicker of cognition behind them when she looks at me. Good. The drug is metabolizing.
I drape the jacket over her legs and tuck it behind her shoulders as tight as I dare, trying not to recoil from the feel of wet plastic sticking to my skin. Her gaze slides away from me, fixing on something only she can see.
“…time to come home,” she mutters.
I’d love to know who told her that? I assume it’s an authority figure—her father, perhaps even her mother if she retains memories from her early childhood—but this is not the time or the place.
I’m exposed on the verge of one of Agony Hollow’s main roads. Should someone drive past and spot me through the rain, spot Haven in the passenger seat…well, I don’t care for explaining myself.
But before I sink back in the driver’s seat, I pause to press my fingertips against the side of Haven’s neck.
Her pulse hammers against my fingertips. No change since I bundled her into the car.
“Your heart is racing,” I murmur. “Also normal. It’ll slow down in the next hour.”
“…time to come home,” is her only response.
That won’t do. That won’t do at all.
“Haven? Listen to me.” I glance at her as I merge onto the empty road.
Her voice sounds wooden, but at least she responds. “What?”
“I want you to tell me five things you can see right now.”
“Why?”
“It’s a grounding technique. Name five things you can see.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Her shivers have died down to infrequent, violent tremors.
“Haven—”
